There is a piece in last week’s New Yorker about artist John Currin. His work “Heartless” is above and believe me it was no small feat finding a Currin painting that wouldn’t crash all of your work computers with its sheer NSFWiness. He is known for his oil paintings (again, link NSFW) that appear to have been rendered by the hand of an Old Master who has been spending too much time hopped up on X. It’s pornography, brought to the canvas by an aspiring Caravaggio. But that’s not what caught my attention. Instead it was this sentence from writer Calvin Tomkins, describing the relationship between Currin and his wife, artist Rachel Feinstein:
Their marriage, which is now in its tenth year, has been a dovetailing of contrary qualities whose symbiosis fascinates and accasionally irritates their less ecstatically married friends.
It’s a puffy sentence, to be sure. But I reread it several times, enjoying its sentiment more with each pass. I even took the unusually bold step of reading it aloud to my fiancé in the middle of the Texas-Texas A&M game last night. I don’t know if it was because it struck close to home, or because the Aggies were up by 16 at that point, but his smile made my night.