The museum of modern hotties.
The artist Alexander Calder (1898-1976) is remembered for his graceful and colorful mobiles. But Campbell, a Canadian comic artist, is more concerned with a question that has probably not plagued many art historians: Was the man hot? Her answer: “Yessss. He looks like a young Donald Sutherland.…And what about that centre part!” Campbell’s text accompanies a pen-and-ink rendering of the young artist, his hair indeed parted in the middle, a rakish look in his eyes. Calder is one of 19 male artists whom Campbell scrutinizes in her refreshingly silly survey of “hotness and notness.” Campbell’s illustration of Philip Guston (1913-1980) shows the Canadian American painter in profile, shirtless and with the stern allure of an ancient Roman bust. Campbell approves of the neo-expressionist. “HOT,” she writes. “It’s hard to believe that this supermodel made those effed-up paintings, but dude had some b-a-g-g-a-g-e.” Campbell also approves of a young Henry Moore (1898-1986), saying that the sculptor’s good looks didn’t leave him “time enough to take an anatomy class: He was fending off private anatomy tutorials from every human who saw him.” The poor fellows who don’t make the grade include Kazimir Malevich (1879-1935): “This is the face of an adult baby.” And Gustav Klimt (1862-1918): “the cat/kaftan/crazy hair combo could have been anticipated.” A satirical curator’s statement introduces Campbell’s brief overview: This “authoritative tome,” it reads, “invites readers to peer into the minds of modern masters—revolutionaries who challenged and eclipsed their predecessors, and inspired generations of artists to come.” And, of course, it invites readers to wonder: Were these men foxes?
An amusing consideration of fine art—and the fine men who made it.