Hans Sedlmayr (1896–1984)

Published in 1957, you'd think it would be dated, but it isn't. Recommend not reading from start to finish. Start in the middle and try to piece together his idealization of art. Probably the collective creation of Chartres over centuries, but transposed into something more naturalistic. As Yeats said, "the center does not hold." Did it ever? So many ways for figmentary centers to fray. That's the fun of it, from an unabashedly decadent viewpoint. Architecture is at the center of his argument: buildings are the holograms of who we are. Lostness and sadness permeate Sedlmayr's analysis like the lost vowels in his name. Hieronymous Bosch popped up from nowhere into the 20th century. Will something or someone new, from hell or perhaps from heaven this time, pop or pixelate into ours?… (meer)