Gib, the two Toms and Ken
Thanks for the thoughts, all of which are well expressed. There are a lot of dimensions at work in this conversation. One is whether “art” is best defined as a continuum or some sort of binary choice. I can live with the “inclusive”/continuum school, if it is recognized that it means that you include the daily drawings of my 4-year old just as much as the Chevy Camaro, landscaped gardens, Pine Valley AND Rancho del Pueblo, any score which inspires Miles Davis to play his music, and the sculptures of Praxiteles or Henry Moore. All are art” in some sense. Nevertheless, even if you believe this theory, you must also recognize that, as Napoleon once said, in effect, “All art is created equal, but some art is more equal than others.” Even in a relativistic universe, there is as much of a quantum difference to me between NGLA and any of Turner’s paintings as there is between how I and Paul Robeson would play Othello, if given the same supporting cast, stage settings and costumes.
Which brings me to the interactive dimension. For most “art” the interaction between the artist and the observer is passive and personal. The Parthenon just sits there and we can not do much more than look at it, albeit through different lenses of experience, preference and observational skill. A golf course, on the other hand is more like a musical score or a screenplay in that the “artistry” which is expressed is at least partly dependent on the actions of the participants. I can read music well enough to play any note that Mile Davis can. Only the most diehard deconstructionists, however, would call what I produced in this experiment as “art.” In music and drama (and in some “performance” art), the “art” is in the playing. When Tiger Woods plays Pebble Beach, who is the “artist?” Tiger, or Chandler Egan or Jack Neville or Robert Hunter, or even the great MacKenzie? To me it is Tiger. To others it may be one of more of the archies who had a hand in creating the matrix of the the venue.
Which leads me to the question of the relationship between art and the artist. Can something like Pebble Beach, or Pine Valley, or TOC or Dornoch be considered a “work of art” if it evidences the hands of many people, over broad swatches of time? Would “The Last Supper” still be considered a work of art if Poussin had redone the architecture and in the 17th century and David redone the figures in the 18th and Jordaens added a Flemish touch to the food on the table and Degas softened the faces of the Disciples and Van Gogh added some texture to the background sky? To me art is, if nothing else, an expression. Of one person. When Gielgud played Hamlet, there were two art forms on display—Shakespeare’s and Sir John’s. Tom MacW is very right that my feeling on this matter are strongly influenced by my experience at and understanding of Dornoch. I know of and can see many hands on that most beautiful course—some from a variety of architects, trained and avocational, some from superintendents—the good, the bad, the ugly and the inspired, some from the actions of time—shifting sands, the subtle emergence of “poofs” on greens and in fairways, and some from the actions of players themselves.
PS to this final note—one man’s “patina” is another’s “green rust.” Pyramids, paintings and sculptures erode. Golf courses evolve—many very much for the better. And, Tom MacW--great Fruedian tyop in the "roll" of achies phrase.
Tom P
I was very much thinking of Behr when I thought of the cheesboard analogy. As in chess, there are “good” and “bad” “squares” on any golf course, and these change from day to day and from person to person. As Tom H has said on another thread, players of different ability have different “hazards.” Those lesser mortals such as Tom’s Dad and myself can “tack” around squares that are hazardous to us, but inconsequential to Jamie Slonis or Matt Ward. And yet, on some days, due to winds, or the maintenance meld, or the fact that I ate two bowls of porridge for breakfast, I might even just try to carry that swale that I usually get trapped in. On other days, that bunker that I normally fly looks as if it is licking it's lips in anticipation of gobbling up my ball. This is one of the great fascinations of golf, but it is inherent in the nature and rules of the sport itself—NOT a results of some dilettantes “art.” To me, "lines of charm" are just the possible strategies for playing a hole, and they varying from day to day. A great course allows these variations to be multiple and interesting--that's all. IMHO.
Ken C
Keep “piling on.” I agree with most of what you say, and have tried to incorporate responses above.
Cheers
Rich