J'accuse: This Sweet Land

This article and accompanying Bertoon appeared in today’s edition of The Malta Independent on Sunday.

L’Oreal, the cosmetics giant has commissioned an encyclopaedia that encompasses the history of Beauty. They are not the first and will certainly not be the last to tackle this topic – one can only think of Umberto Eco or Alain de Botton to mention but two titans who tackled the subject. L’Oreal’s encyclopaedic effort is interesting as it is a multidisciplinary effort that spans a hundred thousand years – and if anyone is interested in the works they will be available both in English and in French.

The concept of beauty has definitely evolved over time and judging by the disparities between the statuettes found at prehistoric temples and the waifs that populate the word of fashion today it will continue to do so as times change and people (and their tastes) change with them. I found myself pondering on an interesting question this week when watching another installment of the Clark documentaries (yes, the pace is slow – too much work at the good old Curia). The discussion had moved on to Van Eyck’s extraordinary painting of Giovanni Arnolfini and (what most persons suppose to be) his wife. Ever since my Systems of Knowledge days and my one year stay in Bruges I have always had an affectionate eye for this painting.

I remember Ernst Gombrich’s emphasis on the particulars of Van Eyck’s portrait. The little details in the painting are one of the points that make it stand out in fact – that apart from Van Eyck’s genius hand of course. There’s the pose and dress of the merchant and wife in their reception room (yes, they did have beds in reception rooms in those days). They are dressed in their finest clothes, fine jewellery and all around them are left indices of their social status – a sort of muffled opulence that would be described in today’s terms as a hushed up “bling bling”.

From the ornate chandelier (expensive) to the oriental carpet (ditto) to the oranges (a hard to find fruit in the north in those days) everything about the painting says that Giovanni Arnolfini was a latter day Soros and Gates rolled into one. The wool merchant’s message with this portrait of himself and his dear beloved is clear: Yes, I can. He may not be an aristocrat but he has bought his way into the fine corridors of opulence and this portrait in the northern city of merchants is a testament to that power, signed by none other than the great Jan Van Eyck – who could not resist the temptation to note that on the wall in the painting: Johannes Van Eyck fuit hic. You’ve seen it before on the child’s schooldesk: “Johnny woz ‘ere”, only this Johnny is Johannes and the moment encapsulated for posterity on canvas is one of the most brilliant renaissance paintings we get to witness in this day and age.

Pimp my Van Eyck

So in 1434 Arnolfini would be adding this portrait to his portfolio and displaying it as publicly as he could in order to give the world an idea of how far he has advanced in life. If we could, by some quirk of that scientific improbability called time travel advance Signor Arnolfini by some five hundred seventy five years, he would be getting busy having his portrait snapped and uploading it onto his facebook profile. It’s not like we don’t do it. It’s useless laughing at a man who deemed it fit to include his ugly Brussels griffon (that’s a dog) and his chandelier in the painting when you’re busy posing next to your brand new car or in your latest purchase from the High Street fashion stores.

The funny thing about facebook and the internet pages in general is that most times we are busy manufacturing a fake reality about ourselves. Whether we insist on using the same photo for years on end in absolute denial of the works of gravity, time and expanding waistlines on our general get-up or whether we are actually involved in some vast effort to avoid any depiction of oneself except in officially approved poses – we become reluctant participants in this Warholish nightmare. We’d love to know more and more about everyone else but the less said about us the better. You do get the occasional Susan Boyle who will relish the popularty afforded by the fast media of the day after some initial shock but on the whole we are generally loathe to advertise the true side of ourselves.

Some people manage to set up a whole website without allowing even a glimpse of their facial features and it is quite a curious exercise to see how many of your facebook friends have actually gone through great pains to avoid having their mug appearing on the site. Not that having your mug on the site will give you any particular pleasure but the very fact that a conscious effort of suppression or distortion of information is made by each and every one of us does tell us something about the way we use our media today.They’re not friends in facebook and that’s not the face of your favourite columnist – it’s just an avatar or image of what they would like to be perceived as… and if they ain’t good enough at it they might find that they need the services of a good marketing guru.

Sweetener and Other Edulcorations

Speaking of people who need the services of a marketing guru, Salvu Balzan of Malta Today seems to be suffering a particularly strong attack of universal misanthropy that alternates with bouts of self-aggrandisement worthy of the greatest moments of J’accuse the blog. I always believed that the Media Today publications play a necessary role in the general panorama of the local media scene: let’s face it there is as much of a need of the cynical, dark journalistic sword of a Matthew Vella as there is for the departure from the conventional signed Stephen Calleja. The Schembris, Vellas and Callejas of this world add some proper colour to the dual tones of local reporting. Columnists like Friggieri are worth the weight of a hundred of the faux bloggers available on the boring conservative rag that passes for Malta’s Old Faithful.

I might risk incurring the wrath of the ginger editor from hell but if he still deigns the Indy with as much as a glance then I would suggest a toning down of his crusade. There really is no reason for his self-trumpeting assertions regarding his weekly rag – particularly when one considers that the statistics that might be underlying his current peak in “readership” might be directly related to the apex of the levels of disgruntlement currently aimed at the occupiers of 1, Castille Square. In other words, Salvu Balzan’s pimped portrait might currently involve some board covered with in-house sales statistics as he poses all decked out as the Real Richelieu but he would do well to remember that his Warhol moment too will pass.

Nods and tips of the hat anyway to the rest of his crew who together with the staff at the Indy never shy from calling a spade a spade. Long live the third estate of Maltese journalism…. warts, hogs and all.

Land of Merciful Employers and Strong Workers

That is what we pray for every time we sing our national anthem. It’s basically a prayer to God in which we ask him to do a number of services to this land that has bestowed its name upon us. We ask for wisdom for our governers, merciful employers and strength or health for our workers. It’s a bit of a whingey set of lyrics that Don Carmelo scribbled for the occasion. You can’t blame the old priest for having set the tone of a nation that had long turned a beseeching prayer to the heavens every time a marauding invader was at our doorstep (or shores). Most times we damn well had to hope that God was not gainfully occupied elsewhere and that He or one of His messengers (varying from the flying Saint Demetrius to Our Father Paul to the Our Lady in Victory Formation) did the job of saving this rock from eternal damnation.

God must have been terribly busy for quite a large part of our history since the wisdom supposedly showered on our rulers seems to have been lost along the way. Maybe the heavenly messengers entrusted with the package of grey matter might have encountered an overenthusiastic hunter and ended up their days stuffed on some shelf while our governors toiled on – ever in the hope that divine illumination might strike them one day is it does the cardinals in an enclave. Notwithstanding the faulty lines of communication and the seemingly futile prayers, this little nation has braved on and even achieved independence fourty five odd years ago.

Incredible isn’t it? One minute we were dithering between integration, irridentism and interdictions and before you knew it we had settled for independence. Now we had a good reason to stuff the Floriana granaries with all kinds of Mediterranean delicacies while one of our unenlightened leaders made his annual appearance landing off a helicopter to remind us of the day when George first waved the documents to the delighted masses.

That Spoonful of Sugar
And so it came to be that every year we were doomed to have the discussion whether the 21st of September is the most suitable of National Days. Again, our prayers for unity and peace among the Maltese must have fallen on an engaged line in the heavens as year after year we take up the baton to engage in the most nonsensical of arguments. For heaven’s sake… are we so stupid as to be waylaid by this ridiculous non-issue every bloody year? The politicians with their sugared tongues seem to think so. Cue Dr Gonzi suggesting that this IS the day for national celebration – probably secretly hoping that it will keep our minds off the oncoming budget which promises some nasty surprises.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, our coffers are not exactly full and its not thanks to those VAT defrauding gentlemen that they will be full again any time soon. Whether we consider it a national day or not we should not exactly be popping the champagne open on or around the day. A couple of bottles of lemonade should do the trick old sport … at least until we get back on our feet. N’est-ce pas?

Dulcis in Fundo
We’ve had the usual Independence day celebrations here in Luxembourg. Unfortunately I could not attend this year’s do otherwise I would have been late in submitting this article. The Maltese expat community is always on the increase and may I add that there is still no direct connection in sight for the winter months… we still pray assiduously for an AirMalta service – at least a stop-over flight combining Malta, Brussels and Luxembourg three days a week.

Tomorrow I am off to the fields of France to take part in a massive paintball fight organised by Court staff. Cavorting and war games on the fields that hosted two world wars might not be the best of ways to celebrate the country’s Independence but that reminds me – how about Armistice Day as a compromise national holiday? The 11th November would be as neutral as it gets and it is full of solemn remembrance that could work to silence the partisans. Yep, I definitely think it should be Armistice Day that solves the impasse… at least that way I get to have a public holiday every year on my birthday.

This has been J’accuse. Tongue firmly in cheek as always wishing you the most independent of independence days.

Jacques has been busier at work than on www.jacquesrenezammit.com/jaccuse. Independent opinions are welcome in the comments sections.