High life
Old-fashioned manners
Taki
Gstaad Balthasar Klossowski de Rola, better known as Balthus, is by far the greatest liv- ing painter. Last week I drove the ten or so miles to Rossiniere, the tiny Alpine hamlet where the 90-year-old artist lives with his Japanese wife Setsuko. They live in a beau- tiful 17th-century chalet, said to be the largest in Switzerland. Setsuko is a very tal- ented painter in her own right, very un- Zelda Fitzgerald in her eagerness to give credit to the master.
I was with Elise Goulandris and the mother of my children, Elise being the widow of Basil, one of our greatest collec- tors and owner of some of Balthus's mas- terpieces. Balthus came down dressed in a kimono, Dutch wooden shoes, accompa- nied by a young Japanese man who helped him along. He is frail but with a strong voice and luminous eyes. Like most people aged 90, his face is bird-like, but his high Slavic cheekbones help retain the aristo- cratic look. We conversed in French, although his English is perfect, as are his Polish and Japanese.
Balthus chain-smokes Dunhills, holding the cigarette with stiff fingers close to his It's gratifying Chandler to know you've decided to give up heroin and cannabis for Lent.' mouth, puffing continuously, in an old- fashioned manner. In fact, the beauty of it is that everything is old-fashioned. The conversation, the mannerisms, la politesse avant tout. Setsuko told me how he has refused to talk about his art in the past, but now does answer questions about particu- lar paintings. What surprised me was that he has never visited New York, South America or Poland. Not even for his famous retrospec- tive at the Metropolitan in 1984? `No, it just never happened, I don't know why. There is no particular reason for it.' His atelier is in a large barn across from the chalet. We were permitted to visit, a rare privilege, and saw his latest landscape can- vas being given the finishing touches. His Japanese nurse holds him up when he stands. He took the time to make sure we understood that his infirmity is from an old war wound — caused by a landmine during the last war, and not from old age. A wry smile followed my remark that Bill Clinton will never have to worry about old war wounds.
He perked up when Julio Santo-Somin- go's 14-year-old daughter arrived accompa- nied by her father. 'Would you like to pose for me?' A few blushes and then the sub- ject of what constitutes art came up. 'But everything is considered art nowadays.' He did not elaborate but he had said enough. After Andy Warhol conned the easily conned by exhibiting shipping cartons of Brillo boxes, how can anyone call some- thing not art?
The Saatchi Collection is the true succes- sor of Andy Conman. There are no longer essential qualities to art. With the right spin, a dog's poo-poo is art, pluralist art, as it's now called, i.e., all forms of expression are permitted, including dung.
Although the poor little Greek boy is hardly an expert, I know what is total crap and what is not. All Pop art is crap, although Damien Hirst and the Saatchi Collection are more crappy than, say, the Johns, Lichtensteins and Warhols. I told the master that if I had the power I would force any soi-disant artist whose works sell for more than five figures to draw an apple. If he failed he would forfeit his fee. None of these modern-day conmen can draw a straight line. It is like having a tailor who can't cut, or a doctor who thinks one's liver is located in one's throat. Yet today's philistines pay millions for stuff that would embarrass a zoo keeper if created by goril- las.
Balthus and Setsuko are now collectors of his work. He has been known to work very slowly, sometimes for years at a single painting. His output is not exactly mass- produced a la modern standards. This is why it's so wonderful. Today's conmen have. managed to spread the idea that no one type of art is inherently better than another. They would, wouldn't they? It is the only way to muddy the waters between true talent and non-talent. They've man- aged it everywhere, including literature. In Balthus's drawing-room is a landscape painted by him at the age of 15. It is his view of Rilke's garden, Rilke having been the man who encouraged the young Balthus to become a painter. But the talent was there from day one. The Damien Hirsts and Salman Rushdies of this world are also talented. As snake-oil salesmen. Balthus only as an artist.
Previous page
