Jennifer Crusie's Blog: Argh Ink

Worth1000.com has a display of contest entries that put classic two-dimensional cartoon characters seamlessly into classic paintings. Not surprisingly, Dali and Picasso get quite a workout. It’s fun to flip through all the entries, but the successful ones go beyond fun; they make you look at both the old art and the new in different ways through the juxtaposition of two famous images. Charlie Brown in the Miro painting may be the best (and thank you to Andrew Sullivan who sent me to the site originally with that image) but others are equally interesting. Take, for example, Dali’s “Galatea of the Spheres:”

It’s beautiful and disturbing, but somehow not as disturbing as “Wonder Woman of the Spheres” by TheMouse:

Granted, I have a thing for Wonder Woman, but to me, Galatea looks like she’s made of flesh bubbles, floating in time, while Wonder Woman looks as though she’s exploding, radiating sex and possibly rage (although that could just be me because I have a thing for rage, too). The differences are Wonder Woman’s bright colors, open eyes, and that red, red mouth, and they send me back to look at Galatea again, making me notice the deadness of her image, the corpselike hues of her skin. One is resignation and death, and one is action and life. I see Dali’s painting with new eyes, and I see Wonder Woman in more detail than ever before.

I think this is what a homage should do, not slavishly imitate but ring a change on an old theme so that both the old and the new are seen in a different light. Miro’s Charlie Brown is infinitely sadder than the Charlie Brown I remember, but he’s also the same Charlie. Disney’s Aladdin heroine and villain are both more disturbing in a Giger painting and also more convincing, liberated from their candy-colored world, while Giger’s sterile images take on new life and even become more threatening because there are people in there. The Wizards in the Durer painting look more at home there than they did in their apocalyptic cartoon universe and more menacing, more human if that’s possible, while Durer’s landscape takes on energy from the threat of the magic riders.

Which brings me back to Star Trek. Had it just been a clever revision, drawing on the original source without ringing in changes, I would not be enthusiastic. It’s Star Trek. How many times can you exploit the myth? But to take the original, turn it sideways, and the set up a new story from the ashes of the old, honoring both . . . It’s that kind of give and take between source and homage that raises the level of the homage to art, or at least to more than a clever play on words and images, to a work that stands on its own even if the reader/viewer isn’t familiar with the original. If you haven’t seen Dali’s “Galatea,” “Wonder Woman of the Spheres” still has meaning, still startles. If you’ve never seen the original Star Trek, the new Star Trek is still visually stunning and brilliantly written. But if you’ve seen the originals, there’s a richness to the new versions that is only possible with familiarity with both.

Yes, I am thinking about Always Kiss Me Goodnight. I’m cogitating. I should have deeper cogitation shortly–although the next post could be about the Pig, too, you never know–so feel free to weigh in here. Not that you wouldn’t anyway.