So this meeting with my advisor on Friday, yeah, it was 45 minutes long. Good
Christ!! And he pretty much just read me his comments. Dude, I can read!! There
was this one passage, I loved it, where I reacted to an
oft-quoted statement on Lisa's work (the artist that I'm
writing about. Since I've spent a year on this project, I 've
decided that I can call her by her first name). The critic
said that he felt like a rock fan "parsing nuances on a guitar
strum." After I looked up what parsing meant (sorta like examining)I took issue with it. Because, well, that is completely dumb to me, there's nothing
subtle about her work, at all. So I likened her technique, in
the conclusion of chapter one, to a riff. And I began a
sentence with the phrase, "Like the opening chords to Smoke on
the Water...yadayada art speak pretensious...." And he didn't
know what I was talking about. HE doesn't know this song!!
He's in his late forties, I think, maybe early fifties. GOD!
Even if you don't know what it's called, you know that riff.
He said that I can't assume my audience is as hip as I am.
Uh, dude, the song, it's about 30 years old!! I give up, I will never impress him. Sigh