"The article also reprised what for me has always been one of the most intriguing notions about golf's appeal, and which I think bears on the art question: namely, that at a subconscious level the game connects us (men especially, I suppose) to our evolutionary past as hunters. We stalk golf courses that themselves often resemble our primordial hunting grounds in East Africa: grassy savannahs with scattered stands of protective trees and abundant watering holes (read: water hazards) that attract prey. In one study Mr. Sailer cited, people in 15 nations were quizzed about what scenes they would most like to see in paintings; the collated responses in 11 of the countries pointed to landscapes that looked very much like golf courses, viewed from elevated tees.
I don't know how much credence to give this charming hunter-golfer idea, but its enduring popularity among pop intellectuals suggests that golf courses work on us in much the same way that great art does: at a very deep level. I dare offer this opinion only because my wife by trade is a painter, and one of her (and thus our) favorite hobbies is debating which paintings, movies, music and books are true art and which aren't.
For her, the real test is how profoundly a work appeals to the gut and lingers in memory."
BobCee (or should it be Bobzee?
).
That probably is some of the essence of Behr---eg his implied comparison between Man's inherent relationship to Nature VS Man's inherent relationship to Man.
This, after-all, is at the heart of Behr's strong assumption that the golfer would object to an obstacle (that tripped him up), for instance, that he feels is created by man (an arcthitect)--eg looks artificially made, but is not so likely to critiicize an obstacle feature (that trips him up) that he feels is wholly the work of Nature---eg "natural" looking.
Obviously Behr's intuition must've been that Man (the golfer) feels that Nature is and should be more dominant over him than some other man should be, and therefore has an inherent right to dominate him where another man does not.
As for that last line of John Paul Newport's about his wife regarding landscape or art or memory you really do need to read Simon Schama's "Landscape and Memory".
There's little question according to it that the two (landscape and Memory) are inextricably intertwined.