A father and son wax euphoric about art.
This slight collection of illustrated, wide-ranging letters between noted art critic John Berger (1926-2017) and his painter and poet son, Yves, invites readers into an intimate world of father and son. Yves writes they made “drawings with the same joy and hope we felt when playing ping-pong.” Initiated by John with a response by Yves, the correspondence bounces back and forth in a reflective, free-flowing manner. John references works by Rogier van der Weyden, Van Gogh, and Goya, among many others, reflecting on their similar spatial perspectives that bring observers directly into the work. Yves responds with a print by Chaïm Soutine, which “offers itself like an open book too.” That observation makes John think of Watteau’s “players and clowns,” while Yves thinks of Max Beckmann, his faith, and his woman wearing a carnival mask. John then brings up Kokoschka, for whom “light is a parting touch” and whose “gaze was like of a migrant bird about to leave.” Yves writes about Giacometti and Schjerfbeck’s self-portraits, closing with a photo of “our beloved Käthe Kollwitz next to one of her self-portraits,” and John compares and contrasts landscapes by Poussin and Zhu Da, especially how each questions the “notion of eternity.” John also invokes the “mystery that art strives to present to us,” while Yves affectionately writes about his father addressing the masters as comrades. Each author reflects on their processes when making art, as well as how to emotionally interpret them. John wonders if painting is the “recuperation of the invisible. Am I that far out?” Yves: “No, Papa, you’re not far out.” The book closes with a number of their drawings, including one Yves drew of his father when he was 10.
Whimsical, playful, and ruminative—a testament to the authors’ love of art and each other.