As the title suggests, so forth.
Gigantic
“Any stupid idea executed on a sufficiently large scale becomes art” – Tiernan Clements
A sentiment I feel I could have uttered myself… But which I hold is more nuanced than it appears at first sight. I was after all knocked for six when I first saw Alex Da Corte’s surrealist mobile of ‘Big Bird’ slowly creaking in the Baltic wind. Much as I had been stunned the first time I encountered a slowly wheeling Alexander Calder mobile that took up an entire room in an art gallery at the Sydney biennale. Creating art on that gigantic scale is a matter of will and resources. Much like Lawrence of Arabia could have been told on a smaller scale, it was a choice by David Lean to tell it in the epic manner, these works gain impact from their sheer stature. And so I hold that no matter how silly the concept might have sounded when pitched, in execution it becomes imperious. But then there are the film installations beloved of modern conceptual artists. The recent Andy Warhol exhibition ran a number of his screen tests in a darkened room. These are short enough to watch particular ones from start to finish, as I did for Dennis Hopper and Bob Dylan. But then there are the films, Sleep, that are too long to watch. These recall GK Chesterton’s joke about the chair that was too good to sit on. How long can a film be and still be watchable in an art gallery? I’m tempted to say, in a Warholian feint, just under 15 minutes.
Build a train!
It was extremely aggravating to see Dublin Airport recently crowing about how more bus seats had been added to the services so that soon nearly every passenger could be guaranteed a seat out of the airport. This is only acceptable as a band-aid, and barely at that. The 16 reliably takes at least 1 hour to get from the Airport to O’Connell Street. You can get a fast train from the airport to the city centre in half that time in Berlin, London, Copenhagen, Vienna, Zurich, Kuala Lumpur, Sydney, Nuremberg, Munich, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Lisbon, but not in Dublin. Because, reasons. Much like we can’t have a subway because either the ground is too marshy or the ground is too granite or, and this is the best excuse, both at the same time. It is simply embarrassing that there is no train from Dublin Airport to Dublin city centre. And it only becomes more embarrassing the longer we are forced to do without one. To paraphrase Oppenheimer: “Build a train, build it fast”.
The Atlantic v Jon Stewart
I was surprised and dispirited to read on the Atlantic an intemperate attack on Jon Stewart’s return to The Daily Show. There was so much that frustrated and disappointed in Devin Gordon’s muddled piece. The New Yorker’s expose of Hasan Minhaj’s habit of lying publicly about identifiable people being racist towards him was masterfully glossed over as an article “suggesting that Minhaj had taken creative liberties with some of the stories he’d told onstage in the past”. No, he was lying. He hadn’t encountered the kind of racism he wanted to do a routine about, so, in a spirit of can-do self-victimisation, he just made it up, and attributed it to blameless people, who suffered the consequences for his actions. Gordon wanted someone in the mould of Minhaj, explicitly in the name of diversity, and named Ronnie Chieng, Michelle Wolf, or Roy Wood Jr as his picks. Well, while Gordon may have watched Trevor Noah every day, Noah did not break thru here in the same way that Jon Stewart had. But someone else did during the Noah regime – Jordan Klepper. Extremely funny, very smart, and astonishingly quick-witted at turning people’s logic against them in a faux-supportive way in his Covid era vox pops. Klepper would be the obvious choice as the new host, if Gordon wasn’t against a white man being hired. And at one point Stewart’s deal with HBO that produced nothing was used as a cudgel to beat him with. Well, then please similarly beat Phoebe Waller-Bridge for her 60 million dollar deal with Amazon that produced nothing. (And which has somehow been renewed!) I regard the return of Stewart as something like a conquering hero returning at a moment of peril. The Cincinnatus of late night.

















