The idea sounded good - an art critic talking about art and making it relevant to every day life. In practice, it was hit or miss. If I had reviewed the book 50 pages or even 111 pages in, I would have said it made great bedtime reading. I could barely focus on the pages and several times I found myself re-reading a section because I had not remembered a thing. At least 3 times I started reading and 2 pages later realized I had read that before. I was then able to skip ahead 10 or 20 pages.
Then somewhere around half way, I found myself actually enjoying the reading. It never made me want to keep reading when I was tired or make me think, I wish I could go start reading it. But I was no longer forcing myself to read it. At this point, it turned almost travelogue or adventure story. I believe the first chapter was about taking pictures in Antarctica on ill-fated journeys and one of the last was about traveling to artists making art in remote places.
While I don't recommend it for everyone, I think it gives insight into an artist's mind - which apparently sometimes bores me to tears.
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