Sweet Nothing

Charles Baudelaire provided his famous description of Modernity in his essay: ‘The Painter of Modern Life’: ‘By modernity I mean the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other half is the eternal and the immutable.’1

Commonly, descriptions of modernism seem to pick up on the first half of this statement but the ‘eternal and immutable’, perhaps alternatively described as ‘soul’ are also absolutely an integral part of Baudelaire’s poetry and the art he advocates. The conflict between the two ‘halves’ in his statement are examples of the contradictions in Baudelaire’s writing and his life. Attempting to reconcile these two halves leads eventually to nothing.

In his writing Baudelaire criticises what he calls ‘Philosophic Art’, the humanitarian, realist painting of the nineteenth century that he claims attempts to teach morals in a manner similar to books. He argues that ‘Philosophic Art’s over-complicated depictions of antiquity are irrelevant in the modern world: ‘The more an artist turns an impartial eye on detail, the greater the state of anarchy”2. Abundant visual information is dense cloud obscuring the viewer’s imagination. ‘The more art strives to be philosophically clear, the more it will denigrate itself.’3

Baudelaire encourages curiosity in the artist and sites Edgar Alan Poe’s short story: ‘The Man of the Crowd’ as an example. In this story, a convalescing man sits in a café, idly watching the rush-hour crowd passing by on a busy London street. He identifies a variety of character types by their mannerisms and characteristics before developing a fascination with a particular old man who he follows in circles through the streets in an ultimately futile attempt to discover more. Eventually he gives up and the story ends with the words:

‘The worst heart of the world is a grosser book than the “Hortulus Animae” and perhaps it is but one of the great mercies of God that es last sich nicht lessen [translation: it does not permit itself to be read].’4

The ‘Hortulus Animae’ was a 16th century prayer book for moral guidance. Perhaps Poe is alluding to God’s instruction to Adam and Eve not to pick fruit from the tree of knowledge. The chaos of the modern city is analogous to the awe inspiring chaos of the firmament.


“The Man of the Crowd”
Illustration by Harry Clarke for a London edition dated 1923

Baudelaire celebrates the heroic Dandy’s disinterested, streamlined approach to life:

‘A dandy may be blasé, he may even suffer, but in this case he will smile like the Spartan boy under the fox’s tooth’5

Baudelaire refers to an ancient tale of loyalty where a Spartan boy who stole a fox hid it under his clothes and rather than reveal it, allowed the fox to scratch him to death. The Dandy is the mould from which all subsequent disinterested and nonchalant artists have been cast.

Walter Benjamin picks up Baudelaire’s ideas and interprets them in a more technologically advanced historical context. In his essay ‘On Some Motifs in Baudelaire’ he sites Baudelaire’s poetry volume: ‘Les Fleurs du Mal’ as the last lyric work that had a European repercussion. Benjamin compares modern mass-media to storytelling observing that newspapers’ linguistic use paralyses the imagination of readers through: information volume, brevity, comprehensibility and above all, lack of connection between items. Once again, this points to the problems resulting from an abundance of data.

Benjamin compares the short, sharpness in descriptions of crowd scenes with the short, sharp actions of switches in mechanical technology:

“The invention of the match around the middle of the nineteenth century brought forth a number of innovations which have one thing in common: one abrupt movement of the hand triggers a process of many steps”6

This separation from a process results in a loss of experience and it is through experiences that thought and imagination are sparked.

The ‘eternal and the immutable’ referred to by Baudelaire can be seen as similar to what Benjamin calls the ‘aura’ in art – the ‘ritual value’. Technology increasingly removes this ‘aura’ as the experience or ritual is compromised. Benjamin uses photography as an example to illustrate another means by which imaginative capacity is affected:

“The techniques based on the use of the camera and subsequent analogous devices extend the range of the memoire voluntaire; by means of these devices they make it possible for an event at any time to be permanently recorded in terms of sound and sight. Thus they represent important achievements where practice is in decline”7

John Cage’s work reflects Baudelaire’s desire for non-didactic art. It responds to the problems associated with the rapid production and accumulation of information characteristic of the modern age.

“When the war came along I decided to use only quiet sounds. There seemed to me no truth, no good in anything big in society.”8

Eventually the quiet sounds were reduced to silence in Cage’s piece: “4’33’”. This silence does not represent passivity though. Here the complete silence forces the listeners to reflect on the physical, sensory and ideological context within which the piece is performed. The silence provides the space for experience which is commonly denied or obscured by the abundant noise and speed of daily life.

Robert Rauschenburg made blank white paintings that functioned similarly to John Cage’s piece. He described them as follows:

“I always thought of the White paintings as being not passive but very – well, hypersensitive. So one could look at them and see how many people were in the room by the shadows cast or what time of day it was”9

rob rauschenberg white
Robert Rauschenberg, White Painting (3 panel) 1951

In his performance work (also written as a score): ‘Lecture on Nothing’, John Cage described methods for making nothing.

“If one is making something which is nothing then one must love and be patient with the material he chooses. Otherwise he calls attention to the material, which is precisely something, whereas it was nothing that was being made; or he calls attention to himself, whereas nothing is anonymous.”9

This is not ‘Minimalism’ – an expression Cage never applied to his pieces. Any aesthetic judgement on his part is deliberately avoided. He is, as Baudelaire described his quintessential painter of modern life, Constantin Guys: “the ‘I’ with an insatiable appetite for the ‘non-I’”10.

John Cage acknowledges and accepts happily a lack of knowledge. He offers a blank book in which you are encouraged to write your own personal experience. Lyric poetry and other established art forms may be ineffective in the climate of the modern world but the raw materials remain, perhaps buried in forgotten memories, the subconscious or hiding somewhere in the familiar fog of daily life. Imagination must be employed in order to uncover these. This as the job of the artist as Baudelaire describes.

La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;
L’homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l’observent avec des regards familiers.

Comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent
Dans une ténébreuse et profonde unité,
Vaste comme la nuit et comme la clarté,
Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent.

II est des parfums frais comme des chairs d’enfants,
Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies,
— Et d’autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants,

Ayant l’expansion des choses infinies,
Comme l’ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l’encens,
Qui chantent les transports de l’esprit et des sens.

Charles Baudelaire, from ‘Fleurs Du Mal’



Nature’s a temple where each living column,
At times, gives forth vague words. There Man advances
Through forest-groves of symbols, strange and solemn,
Who follow him with their familiar glances.

As long-drawn echoes mingle and transfuse
Till in a deep, dark unison they swoon,
Vast as the night or as the vault of noon —
So are commingled perfumes, sounds, and hues.

There can be perfumes cool as children’s flesh,
Like fiddIes, sweet, like meadows greenly fresh.
Rich, complex, and triumphant, others roll

With the vast range of all non-finite things —
Amber, musk, incense, benjamin, each sings
The transports of the senses and the soul.

Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)



  1. Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life 1863
  2. Charles Baudelaire, Philosophic Art 1857
  3. Charles Baudelaire, Philosophic Art 1857
  4. Edgar Alan Poe, The Man of the Crowd, 1840
  5. Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life, 1863
  6. Walter Benjamin, On Some Motifs in Baudelaire, 1939
  7. Walter Benjamin, On Some Motifs in Baudelaire, 1939
  8.  John Cage, Lecture on Nothing, 1959
  9.  Calvin Tomkins, The Bride and the Bachelors: Five Masters of the Avant-garde, 1965
  10.  Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life 1863
  11. Charles Baudelaire, Fleurs Du Mal, 1857




Tresses Shall be Laid in Dust

The characteristics of human hair make it highly symbolic in society. It is our most obvious distinguishing feature and with its malleability offers the best opportunity for decorative display. Apparently, the average woman in the UK spends £140,000 in their lifetime on hair care. Symbolically, its potency means its styling has the potential to provoke violence within and between different communities whilst it also provides an opportunity for corporations to generate great wealth as their fast evolving hair related products are consumed.

In Milton’s Paradise Lost, Satan makes special reference to Adam and Eve’s hair when he first spies them in the Garden of Paradise:

“His fair large front and eye sublime declared
Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clust’ring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
She as a veil down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied
Subjection, but required with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best received,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
and sweet reluctant amorous delay.”1

The difference between gender is striking: Adam’s hair style helps portray strength and power whilst Eve’s long hair is representative of her submission to Adam and God.

Milton draws from classical mythology for his illustration of ideal beauty. In ancient Greek culture, physical beauty was associated with virtue as it still is today through celebrity culture. “Hyacinthine locks” refers to the classical legend of Hyacynthus, a handsome Spartan prince loved by Apollo who meets his unfortunate if aesthetically significant demise when Apollo’s discus hits him on the head. His blood transforms into Hyacinth flowers to which the hair on Greek sculptures resemble. Milton’s appropriation is  perhaps derived from Homer’s “the Odyssey”:

“Athene, daughter of Zeus, made him seem taller and sturdier and caused the bushy locks to hang from his head as thick as the petals of a hyacinth in bloom. Just as a craftsman trained by Hephaestus and Palas Athene in the secrets of his art puts a graceful finish to his work by overlaying silverware with gold, she endowed his shoulders and head with beauty.”2

The analogy between the hair and gold leaf points to hair as the final ingredient in Odysseus’ physical perfection. Here, it seems to function purely as rich decoration.

Historically, men’s hair symbolises strength and virility. In the biblical tale of Samson and Delilah, Samson loses his God given strength when his hair is cut. The message of the story is that true strength is provided by God – spiritual as opposed to physical.

Samson and delilah
Peter Paul Rubens, Samson and Delilah. About 1609-10,

The ancient Greek myth of Scyla and King Minos is another tale where strength resides in hair, in this case her father, King Nisus has a purple hair that holds his strength. Midas is at war with her Father and having fallen in love with Midas, Scyla betrays her father, removing his purple lock thus diminishing his strength and taking it to Midas. Midas rejects her though and she finishes up being transformed into a lark.

As described by Milton, growing hair long in Christian tradition is seen as a sign of subjection to God. Mary Magdalen is usually depicted in art with long flowing hair. According to the bible, she washed Jesus’s feet with perfume and her tears using her hair. Accounts of the saints that elaborated on bible accounts in the medieval era (probably conflating her with tales of another Mary) tell that she went into the wilderness after Jesus’s crucifixion where her clothes wore off so God allowed her hair to grow to cover her modesty. She is depicted completely covered in hair in some gothic depictions.

levation of Mary Magdalene with angels raising her in SS. Johns' Cathedral in Toruń
levation of Mary Magdalene with angels raising her in SS. Johns’ Cathedral in Toruń

Hair is perceived to hold something of the soul of a person. Locks of hair were kept as relics of saints, supposedly containing the power to heal illnesses. Locks of hair are also kept in remembrance of family members or by lovers as keepsakes.

In Alexander Pope’s hyperbolic poem, “The Rape of the Lock” he uses the stealing of a lock of hair as a vehicle to represent the shallowness of high society in the 18th Century England. It’s based on a contemporary event where a man stole a lock of his fiancé’s hair causing a feud between families. Pope was asked to write a poem based on the event in order to demonstrate its absurdity and help mend the rift. The poem appropriates themes and devices from heroic classical literature but with fairies replacing the Gods, card games and flirtatious scuffles replacing battles, leisurely trips on the Thames replacing epic voyages. The “rape of the lock” is portrayed in a similar manner to the numerous atrocities carried out by gods and mortals alike in myths from antiquity. The absurdity demonstrates how superficial appearances of beauty had seemingly become held in higher regard to qualities of greater value and the trivial was taking precedence over more substantial political problems.

“The Nymph to the destruction of Mankind,
Nourish’d two Locks which graceful hung behind
In equal curls, and well conspir’d to deck
With shining Ringlets the smooth Iv’ry neck,
Love in these labyrinths his Slaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains,
With hairy springes we the Birds betray,
Slight lines surprise the Finny prey,
Fair tresses Man’s imperial race insnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair.”3

Aubrey Beardsley drew illustrations to accompany a later publication of the poem and his drawings demonstrate how hair offers the opportunity for highly decorative images.

Illustration by Aubrey Beardsley from ‘The Rape of the Lock’ by Alexander Pope, Canto III.

Whistler said of Beardsley:

“Look at him! He’s just like his drawings, he’s all hairs and peacock’s plumes– hairs on his head, hairs on his fingers, hairs in his ears, hairs on his toes and what shoes he wears – hairs growing out of them.”4

When Beardsley showed him the illustrations for “the Rape of the Lock” he changed his mind. He proclaimed Beardsley “a great artist” causing Beardsley to burst out crying.

Artists have exploited the decorative opportunities that depictions of hair provide. Especially the pre-Raphaelites. Baudelaire in his Symbolist poem: “La Chevelure” or “Hair” uses metaphors like ‘aromatic forest’, ‘Ebony sea’, ‘Clamorous Harbour’ 5 (english translation) for erotic effect. Painters have achieved similar effects as depictions of hair cover wide expanses of the field of view – pre-empting Abstract Expressionist field painting. For instance Dante Gabrielle Rossetti in his close up portraits of women which he made aware that their sensual nature made them popular with patrons.

Dante Gabrielle Rossetti, Helen of Troy, 1863
Dante Gabrielle Rossetti, Helen of Troy, 1863

Women’s hair depicted in paintings throughout history generally objectifies. Seen through the “male gaze”. This image by Lee Miller is interesting to contrast. It seems less steeped in the mythologies and ideas largely stemming from male dominated culture where hair represents strength or submission.

Lee Miller, Untitled (Woman with Hand in Hair) 1931
Lee Miller, Untitled (Woman with Hand in Hair) 1931


  1. John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 4, 300-310 (1667)
  2. Homer, The Odyssey,  6. 229-237 (quote from E.V Rieu translation, 1946)
  3. Alexander Pope, The Rape of the Lock, Canto 2, 19-28, 1717
  4. Elizabeth Robins Pennell, Joseph Pennell, Whistler: The life of James McNeill Whistler 1908
  5. Charles Baudelaire, La Chevelure, 1857

Agnes Martin – Sylphide Muses

Walking through the Agnes Martin retrospective at Tate Modern brings to mind Rosalind Krauss’s essay – ‘Grids’ the first of her essays in the collection, ‘The Originality of the Avant-Garde and other Modernist Myths’. The essay is based around Krauss’s observation that the grid has become the emblem of modern art, representing ‘modern art’s will to silence’1 and its hostility to literature. Using structuralist terminology, she describes the grid as a ‘myth’, masking a repetitive trauma or neurosis stemming from modernity’s failure to reconcile the secular and scientific with the spiritual. Agnes Martin’s paintings are surely the most iconic modernist grid paintings besides Mondrian. However, beneath the myth lies the ideas behind these paintings which are rich and offer insight into a remarkable artist’s view of the world. She seemingly strives for spiritual peace in an increasingly mechanised, modern world.

The most interesting room contains a set of paintings made in the mid-sixties when Martin was a successful member of New York’s artists’ community: Adventure (1967), Morning (1965), White Stone (1964), The Rose (1965), The Tree (1964) and Grass (1967). The paintings in this room demonstrate the range of carefully tuned appearances Martin was able to achieve through: contrasts between her pencil lines and slightly uneven backgrounds, the density of the grids and the resulting arrangements of space. Many of her paintings are untitled with numbers but all these have titles providing some reference. The titles provide a suggestion of the intent and each painting is characteristic of its title, but Martin’s choice not to title most paintings is one means by which she fall foul of Krauss’s criticism of modernism’s purge of objective references.

Morning 1965 Agnes Martin 1912-2004 Purchased 1974 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/T01866
Morning 1965 Agnes Martin

Agnes Martin was strongly influenced by ideas stemming from East Asian philosophy and religion, particularly Taoism which she was introduced to at Columbia College, New York, where she studied teaching. Her work involves an intuitive approach, frequently referring to “Inspiration”:

“There are two parts of the mind: The outer mind that records and the inner mind that says ‘yes’ and ‘no’. When you think of something that you should do, the inner mind says ‘yes’ and you feel elated. We call this inspiration. For an artist this is the only way. There is no help anywhere. He must listen to his own mind”.2

This intuitive approach has similarities to Andy Warhol’s methods for producing his work in New York at the same time as Martin, which he describes:

“I look at my canvas and I space it out right. I think, “Well, over here in this corner it looks like it sort of belongs,” and so I say, “Oh yes, that’s where it belongs, all right.” So I look at it again and I say, “The space in that corner there needs a little blue,” and so I put my blue up there and then, then I look over there and it looks blue over there so I take my brush…”3

Another similarity is the use of repetition which the two artists were incorporating. Martin knew Warhol and said of him, perhaps summing up the difference between the two: “I liked Warhol but I was afraid of his friends”.

Both artists were interested in emptiness, a concept important in East Asian ideas.

Martin: “The empty form goes all the way to heaven”4

Warhol: “If I see a chair in a beautiful space, no matter how beautiful the chair is, it can never be as beautiful to me as the plain space.”5

Despite the stylistic differences in their work, both artists shared interests. Perhaps more than Martin shared with the Abstract Expressionists and Minimalists with whom she was closely associated.

In spite of her incorporation of squares and the visual simplicity of her paintings, Agnes Martin’s inspiration for her paintings was different to the minimalists. She has said she was inspired to start using the grid in her paintings after going on a walk in the mountains and emerging on the wide open plains. The horizontal line, to her represented freedom and expansion: “Happiness is being on the beam with life – to feel the pull of life”5.

She said that she inserted the rectangles within squares in order to counteract the power and dominant strength of the square. This is in contrast to minimalists such as Carl Andre who employed the square as an imposing and powerful form. Her desire to create softer, quieter paintings points to the Taoist philosophies that Martin was interested in. The soft, weak and tranquil (eg.water) are perceived as more powerful than the hard and tough. Better to be a grain of sand than a rock. It’s these ideas that the paintings evoke. There may be no narrative but the paintings’ are not purely formal. They evoke calm and tranquility as beautifully as any poem or book.


1 ‘The Grid’. From ‘The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths’, Rosalind E. Krauss, 1986

2 & 4 ‘Beauty is the Mystery of Life’, Agnes Martin, 1989

3 ‘The Untroubled Mind’, Agnes Martin, 1972

3 & 5 ‘The Philosophy of Andy Warhol’ 1975,