It’s incredible how Dave Hickey uses his own, very American middle class, experiences to explain and critique works of art. Sometimes when I was reading through these first 100 pages I found myself wondering if the artists of whom Hickey was critiquing would even see this; failed musician, Los Vegan, car buff of a guy as someone worthy of critiquing their art. Then I realized American art in the 20th century was being created by people just like Dave hickey. What gave me this impression was Hickey’s comparison of Norman Rockwell’s paintings to his dad’s Saturday evening jam sessions. “I have no doubt that Rockwell taught me about how to remember that jam session, because I could never polish it. I clung to the ordinary eccentricity, the clothes, the good-heartedness, the names of things, the comic incongruities, and the oddities of arrangement and light.” Hickey then goes on to talk about how that jam session was an excellent example of America; just like a Norman Rockwell painting. What made it so great, Hickey says, were the participants and their individuality, but what truly made it great was quite the opposite; everybody had the spot to solo. I think this is why American artists rarely make or respect high art, because we’re all Americans, right? Nothing more nothing less.
    I was very intrigued with Hickey’s thoughts on imperfections in music. “And you can thank the wanking eighties, if you wish, and digital sequencers, too, for proving to everyone that technologically perfect rock, like free jazz, sucks rockets.” I wonder, if this is true for art as well? Would such clean perfection ruin something significant like the natural quality of human error, hence, making art work less human and less interesting? Can human error actually be a quality?   -Drew