Customer Reviews

Let's See: Writings on Art from The New Yorker

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Peter Schjeldahl was just awarded the 2008 Clark Prize for Excellence in Arts Writing, which recognizes one writer each year who promotes the public appreciation of the visual arts in a way that "is grounded in scholarship yet appeals to a wide audience."

'Let's See,' Schjeldahl's new collection of his essays from the New Yorker, shows why he won this prestigious award and also shows how far he has come as an art critic.

Years ago, when I used to live in Manhattan (in a studio big enough for me, my cat, and a hot-plate), I used to read Schjeldahl, who then wrote for the Village Voice, which even at that time was a pretty second-rate rag. I never really liked Schjeldahl's writing back then. He was really snarky, a kind of a hipster-poser smartypants type. But in reading 'Let's See,' or his New Yorker essays in general, you'll notice immediately that he has matured both in his attitude towards his job and in his writing style, which is consistently straightforward, to the point, and memorable. (Schjeldahl is also an award-winning poet, and his love of language shows in his criticism as well.)

I can't say that I always agree with Schjeldahl's taste in art. John Currin seems to be one of his favorites (the cover image is a Currin painting) and despite Schjeldahl's frequent praise, I just can't see why this guy is good, much less great. But you don't need to agree with all of Schjeldahl's opinions to see that they are carefully reasoned and based on a deep love and understanding of art built up over a lifetime.

Of course, some of the artists that Schjeldahl praises here are basically no-brainers: Velazquez, Vermeer, El Greco. Who doesn't like those painters? But Scheldahl brings a level of depth and insight to his discussion of their works that makes you see them in new and interesting ways.

I also really like the fact that Schjeldahl, the former hipster-dude, had the courage to put in a good word (actually a really strong defense) of Norman Rockwell, an artist he probably would have dissed big time back in the Village Voice days.

This is a really good book for people interested in art in all of its complexity. Schjeldahl makes you use all of your brain cells, but if you can follow his arguments, they're very rewarding. I enjoyed this book a lot.

Schjeldahl's accumulation of reviews from the renaissance to recent contemporary art is a fun read once you get past the author's rather pedantic writing style. I don't think I have ever encountered "insouciance" more frequently in my life. His interview with gallerist Marian Goodman was better than some of the art reviews. He has strong opinions when it comes to contemporary art--and probably the experience to back them up.

Peter Schjeldahl is simply the best. Not only is he extremely knowledgeable on art from A to Z but he is an inventive, creative thinker and writer with the gifts to make his essays works of art in themselves.

This is to say that his readers come away inspired, educated and entertained, much like seeing art but with the best of all docents.

As brilliant as Schjeldahl's essays are, they do not compete for attention with the subject at hand. They illuminate and provoke and add to one's understanding of particular artists and their works.

Own this book. See art through a different and clear lens. Enjoy the inspiring journey essay to essay. Bravo Maestro.

I am an art critic. This books helps me to SEE and to write. His writing is first rate. His observations and ruminations about art spot on, even if you don't agree with his likes and dislikes. Highly recommended for anyone who loves art. And even if you don't, it might tweek your interest in taking a gander to a gallery or museum and seeing this fascinating world. I learned so much reading this book. Thank you, Peter(after reading your book I feel like we're chums).

I have not always agreed with his opinions vis a vis certain artists, but I have always enjoyed an respected the argument. He does so most eloquently and proficiently; I always learn something about seeing.

I haven't even finished reading this yet, but I really like it. He is funny, articulate, and knows what he's talking about. Like the other reviews mention, we don't always agree but he has made me want to look or look again at the paintings he describes. I'll keep it short since so much has already been said. It's worth the price.

I am not a reader of The New Yorker so I was pleased to discover Mr. Schjeldahl's book. His reviews are part art history lesson, part criticism, and his writing is a joy in this age of dumbing down the vocabulary. I kept the dictionary handy. I didn't necessarily agree with his assessment of some of my favorite artists, but that's what makes things interesting. And I enjoyed learning about newer artists who are not yet household names.

I would have loved to have seen an example of the artist's work shown with the criticism. For unfamiliar artists it was difficult to fully appreciate the commentary without it. Was it absent in The New Yorker too?

Definitely worth a look.

A repackaged set of articles from The New Yorker. I liked the short form for each chapter of this book and many of the descriptive or explanatory insights, but think the individual articles probably had more impact when read closer to the event being described, normally a special art exhibit at some museum.

The author, Peter Schjeldahl, certainly knows a lot about art and artists but comes across in this book as more interested in showing his erudition through a prose style that seems to be always in search of the obscure word or phrase towards the destination of a sweeping judgement.

The back cover of the dust jacket shows a man who is as close to the "look" (beat up, buttoned-up rain coat with woolen scarf carelessly wrapped around a neck crowned by a head with wind-swept gray hair) of the stereotypical New York City intellectual as you might ever want to find. I also found the twenty questions (of course adoringly posed by famous art-world friends) format of the introduction annoying. My final minor annoyance is the fact that a one-paragraph only description of the author (located on the inside flap of the dust jacket) manages to shoehorn in the fact that he "has taught at Harvard University." How nice.