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Banshee, whole no. 7, March 1945

Page 3

stition held by Bok that any painting of his giving an eyeful to the unwary onlooker, in a partially finished state, is bound to develop latitudinal and longitudinal cracks, turn sour overnight and fall to powder at the touch of a finger. In addition to his other work, Bok has also turned out a number of straight portraits, of which more later. 

During this general period, in the meantime of which a world war had broken out and the planet was crmubling to ashes, I found it necessary to devote some time to evaluating Bok's actual standing in the world of painting. Clearly, judging from the various contradictions contained in his work, there seemed to be only a shaky foundation for the hozannahs rising from cheering throats, and it was screaming for air. 

My qualifications for such analysis and evaluation arc, to my knowledge, perfectly sound and valid; as good, indeed, as anyone's and probably better than most, due to the fact that I have spent rather a considerably number of years as an onlooker in the entire field of art. All this does not mean that my criticisms are 100% correct but at least it affords my mistakes the grace of being authoritative. 

From first to last, there has always been much to criticise, in Bok's painting. Being a gentleman, and painfully aware of Hannes' quaint habit of immediately excluding from his universe the unhappy critic who remarked that Finlay might have gotten a better grasp on this picture, or maybe the technique in that Bok masterpiece was a trifle sloppy or that it was only as good as the preceding work, I kept my mouth shut. I will admit to this being rather remarkable, as I possess perhaps the loudest mouth in stf, but there are few daubs of delicacy still plastered on my soul.

Granted that the subject never amounted to much. I was and am a busy man, as most men and even most women are, and the importance of an artist who in the space of fifteen years of active work had gathered about himself an audience of pulp readers possibly should never have ruffled my thinning locks. But whose time is valuable?

Beginning such analysis was an unenviable job in the case of Hannes Bok. So much can be dug from a man's past and antecedents and the whole earlier part of Bok's life is, as far as I can determine, known only to his family and a few Gila monsters on the Mojave desert. Even such important data as the artist's chronological age is still, in his lifetime, a matter of debate. Bok himself has variously stated it as 28, 23, and 32 in my presence on separate occasions. To others he has mentioned 30, 20 and 35. Looking at Bok honestly I would put his actual age at something between 38 and 40. Intellectually it might be said that Bok is mature, if indeed an elfin spirit can ever mature. His emotional age can be safely judged from the subject matter of his serious paintings and they are the kind I was enjoying while also reading Penrod.

The opportunity to bring the whole matter to a climax arrived early in 1945 when Hannes had his first public exhibition, much material for which had been in preparation for many years, although the greater part of it was rushed to completion in a single twelvemonth.

p3

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stition held by Bok that any painting of his giving an eyeful to the unwary onlooker, in a partially finished state, is bound to develop latitudinal and longitudinal cracks, turn sour overnight and fall to powder at the touch of a finger. In addition to his other work, Bok has also turned out a number of straight portraits, of which more later. During this general period, in the meantime of which a world war had broken out and the planet was crmubling to ashes, I found it necessary to devote some time to evaluating Bok's actual standing in the world of painting. Clearly, judging from the various contradictions contained in his work, there seemed to be only a shaky foundation for the hozannahs rising from cheering throats, and it was screaming for air. My qualifications for such analysis and evaluation arc, to my knowledge, perfectly sound and valid; as good, indeed, as anyone's and probably better than most, due to the fact that I have spent rather a considerably number of years as an onlooker in the entire field of art. All this does not mean that my criticisms are 100% correct but at least it affords my mistakes the grace of being authoritative. From first to last, there has always been much to criticise, in Bok's painting. Being a gentleman, and painfully aware of Hannes' quaint habit of immediately excluding from his universe the unhappy critic who remarked that Finlay might have gotten a better grasp on this picture, or maybe the technique in that Bok masterpiece was a trifle sloppy or that it was only as good as the preceding work, I kept my mouth shut. I will admit to this being rather remarkable, as I possess perhaps the loudest mouth in stf, but there are few daubs of delicacy still plastered on my soul. Granted that the subject never amounted to much. I was and am a busy man, as most men and even most women are, and the importance of an artist who in the space of fifteen years of active work had gathered about himself an audience of pulp readers possibly should never have ruffled my thinning locks. But whose time is valuable? Beginning such analysis was an unenviable job in the case of Hannes Bok. So much can be dug from a man's past and antecedents and the whole earlier part of Bok's life is, as far as I can determine, known only to his family and a few Gila monsters on the Mojave desert. Even such important data as the artist's chronological age is still, in his lifetime, a matter of debate. Bok himself has variously stated it as 28, 23, and 32 in my presence on separate occasions. To others he has mentioned 30, 20 and 35. Looking at Bok honestly I would put his actual age at something between 38 and 40. Intellectually it might be said that Bok is mature, if indeed an elfin spirit can ever mature. His emotional age can be safely judged from the subject matter of his serious paintings and they are the kind I was enjoying while also reading Penrod. The opportunity to bring the whole matter to a climax arrived early in 1945 when Hannes had his first public exhibition, much material for which had been in preparation for many years, although the greater part of it was rushed to completion in a single twelvemonth. p3