Harold Rosenberg was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1906. Like many of his generation of New York intellectuals, he was educated in the 1920s at City College, where debate about Marxism and its relationship to the arts flourished. The issues that concerned Rosenberg, and peers such as Irving Howe, Irving Kristol, Dwight MacDonald, Norman Podhoretz, and William Phillips, would generate influential journals such as Partisan Review, Dissent, and Commentary along with numerous other, often short-lived little magazines.

• Harold Rosenberg The Tradition Of The New
• Rosenberg The Tradition Of The New

It was in the little magazines that Rosenberg for many years found his readership. While working for the Works Progress Administration in the 1930s and for the Office of War Information in the 1940s and for the Advertising Council of America until 1973, he persistently published in these journals a prodigious number of poems, book reviews, art reviews, and theoretical essays. A selection of the essays were published as a book, The Tradition of the New, in 1959, when Rosenberg was fifty-three. The book reached a wider audience than the individual pieces had, and from that point on Rosenberg was in demand as a speaker, writer, and professor. In 1963 he gave the Gauss seminars at Princeton, and from 1966 until his death in 1978 he taught at University of Chicago as a member of the Committee on Social Thought. In 1962, he began publishing art reviews in The New Yorker, becoming, in 1967, their regular reviewer. These reviews, along with pieces he wrote for other prominent journals, were collected in the form of several books, including The Anxious Object (1964), Artworks and Packages (1969), The De-Definition of Art (1972), and Art On the Edge (1971).

Harold Rosenberg The Tradition Of The New

He also wrote books on individual artists he admired, such as William De Kooning, Saul Steinberg, and Barnett Newman. Rosenberg's particular fusion of Marxist theory and modernism employed existentialism. In the late '40s and early '50s, he published in Les Temps Modernes and other French publications with the help of Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Simone de Beauvoir.

Harold Rosenberg The Tradition Of The New Pdf Download. Ebook The Tradition Of The New as PDF Download Portable Document Format. It was he who first coined the term.

Rosenberg's theoretical interests and critical observation of artists such as DeKooning and Pollock crystallized in his signature piece, 'The American Action Painters,' published in Art News in 1952. He argued that for these artists painting was a spontaneous event in the search for individual identity, and the resultant work on canvas was but a record of that search and not an object created for the purpose of aesthetic pleasure.

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This argument was ever afterward associated with Rosenberg, and he continued to revise and adapt it for the rest of his career as an art reviewer. A brilliant polemicist who loved debate and discussion, Rosenberg had many enduring friendships among the intellectual elite of his day. The mutual animosity he and Clement Greenberg felt for each other, is also, however, an integral part of Rosenberg's personal history and the history of the New York School, whose work these critics so assiduously championed. From their early rivalry over a staff position at Partisan Review, to later mutual attacks in public and in print, Rosenberg and Greenberg, equally influential, came to represent two opposing approaches to the art of their day, even if, from the vantage point of the present day, they held many assumptions and judgements in common. The Harold Rosenberg Papers present a comprehensive view of Rosenberg's professional life from the early 1930s until his death in 1978, with the greatest portion of material from the 1960s and '70s. Correspondence offers a history of the issues and debates that concerned New York intellectuals who published and edited influential journals such as Dissent, Commentary, Partisan Review, and Art News.

The manuscripts show the range of topics Rosenberg's thoughtful writings encompassed in the little magazines that embraced him for three decades, writings on politics, literature, art, art education, and philosophy. They also show the maturation of his style as a reviewer for The New Yorker. Interviews and teaching files give a glimpse of Rosenberg as a dynamic and spontaneous speaker, a dimension of him that the audiotape also preserves. The relatively small amount of personal material, such as family correspondence, journals and photographs, evoke the climate of his personal life, while clippings and printed matter chronicle the social and intellectual era in which Rosenberg lived and worked. Arrangement note.

In Shakespeare’s England, a man waiting his turn in a barber shop would take a violin from the wall and entertain himself and his neighbors; in Louis B. Mayer’s America, millions of men (and their families) passively see the same movie or watch the same television program at the same time. For the intellectuals of our day, this mass culture has been a threat (which some have evaded by self-isolation) and a challenge (which some have answered by studying the wicked magic that makes mass culture so effective). Yet, as Harold Rosenberg here maintains, it is possible that the 20th-century intellectual, in his relations with the world of mass culture, has been himself unknowingly seduced and conquered just when he thought he was fighting the hardest.

O ne of the more improbable geostrategic surprises of recent years has been the revival of the North Korean economy under the direction of Kim Jong Un. Just to be clear, that economy remains pitiably decrepit, horribly distorted, and desperately dependent on outside support. Recent estimates suggest that its annual merchandise exports do not reach even 1 percent of the level generated by its nemesis, South Korea. Even so, the economic comeback on Kim Jong Un’s watch has been sufficiently strong to permit a dramatic ramp-up in the tempo of his nation’s race to amass a credible nuclear arsenal and develop functional intercontinental ballistic missiles capable of striking the U.S. That is, of course, the express and stated objective of the program. Pyongyang today appears to be perilously close to achieving its aim—much closer now, indeed, than complacent Western intelligence assessments had presumed would be possible by this juncture. But then, North Korea is full of surprises for foreign observers.

Full disclosure: I am one of those who seriously underestimated North Korea’s resilience in the 1990s. Twenty years ago, I would have thought it almost unimaginable for the North Korean state to survive to this day. Needless to say, subsequent events have proved otherwise, and studying my own mistakes has led to the analysis under way here. Joan Robinson, “Korean Miracle” Monthly Review, January 1965, Vol. Korea, the economic race between the north and the south: a research paper, ER 78-10008, January 1978, CIA.

Kim Il Sung, Works, Vol. 31 (Pyongyang: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1987), p.76.

Nicholas Eberstadt and Judith Banister, The Population of North Korea. (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1992).

Kim Il Sung, Selected Works, Vol. 5 (Pyongyang: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1972), p.

On this man-made, and completely unnecessary, tragedy, see Stephan Haggard and Marcus Noland, Famine in North Korea: Markets, Aid and Reform, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007). Hastings, A Most Enterprising Country: North Korea in the Global Economy. (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2016). Perhaps the best analysis of this transformation is Kim Byung-Yeon, The North Korean Economy: Collapse and Transition. (New York: Cambridge Univer sity Press, 2017). Woodward is Bob Woodward, of course. Every few years, for more than 30 years, Woodward has sent Washington reeling with a book-length, insider account of one administration after another, presenting government as high drama, with a glittering cast of villains and heroes.

The sequence of the symptoms seldom varies. First comes the Buildup. We hear premonitory rumblings: Freshly minted Woodward revelations are on the way! His publisher declares an embargo on the book, mostly as a tease. Another reporter writes an unauthorized report guessing at what the revelations might be.

Washington can scarcely breathe. At last the first excerpts appear in a three-part serial in Woodward’s home paper, the Washington Post.

We enter the Swoon. The excerpts tell of betrayals and estrangements, shouting matches and tearful reconciliations, tough decisions and disappointing failures of nerve, all at the highest levels of government. Woodward goes on TV shows to explain his findings.

Sources attack him; he stands by his book. The frenzy intensifies, the breathing is labored, until, at last, comes the Spasm, as all the characters from the book refuse to comment on a “work of tabloid fiction.” Then the newspaper excerpts end, there is a collapsing sigh, a dying fall, and the physical book, the thing itself, appears. The text seems an afterthought, limp as a wind-sock and, by now, even less interesting.

If there were more revelations to be found in its pages, after all, we would have read them already. We skulk back to the routines of what passes for normal life in Washington, slightly abashed at our momentary loss of self-control. This is the Woodward Detumescence.

Shakespeare foresaw it in a sonnet: “the expense of spirit in a waste of shame.” The Fire and Fury frenzy omitted some of these steps, prolonged others. It was touched off by an excerpt in New York, appearing a week before the book’s original publication date. Running to roughly 7,000 words, the excerpt was densely packed and so juicy it should have come with napkins. The article’s revelations about White House backbiting and self-loathing are by now universally known, and have been from the moment the excerpt hit the Web.

One thing they make plain is that Michael Wolff bears little resemblance to Bob Woodward. Over a long career, our Bob has shown himself to be a tireless and meticulous reporter. He is a creature of Washington, besotted by government; Woodward never found a briefing paper he wouldn’t happily read, as long as it was none of his business. Wolff, on the other hand, is an incarnation of Manhattan media. He’s a 21st-century J.J. Hunsecker, the gossip columnist in the great New York movie Sweet Smell of Success, although, unlike J.J., he has a pleasing prose style and a sense of irony. His curiosity about the workings of government and the shadings of public policy is nonexistent.

“Trump,” Wolff writes with typical condescension, “had little or no interest in the central Republican goal of repealing Obamacare.” Neither does Wolff. Woodward would have given us blow-by-blow accounts of committee markups. Wolff mentions Obamacare only glancingly, even though it was by far the most consequential failure of Trump’s first year. If you want to learn how Trump constructs that Dreamsicle swirl that rests on the top of his head, or the skinny on Steve Bannon’s sartorial habits, then Wolff is your man. He tries to tell his story chronologically, but he occasionally runs out of things to say and has to vamp until the timeline lets him pop in a new bit of shocking gossip. Early in the book, for example, after he has established that Trump is reviled and mocked by nearly everyone who works for him, Wolff leads us into a tutorial on The Best and the Brightest, David Halberstam’s doorstop on the 1960s White House wise men and whiz kids who thought it would be a great idea to get in a land war in Southeast Asia. He calls Halberstam’s book a “cautionary tale about the 1960s establishment.” Wolff’s chin-pulling goes on for several hundred words.

Apparently, Steve Bannon had had the book on his desk. This is interesting, I guess, and so are the excessive digressions about New York real estate, Manhattan’s media culture, the evolution of grande dames into postfeminist socialites, and many other subjects that are orthogonal to the book’s purpose. If you’ve bought Fire and Fury, chances are, you wanted to learn things you didn’t know about the first year of the Trump administration. The New York excerpt was chockablock with such stuff, told in sharply drawn scenes and vivid, verbatim quotes.

But the book dwells much more on general impressions, flecked here and there with scandalous asides. In these longeurs—most of the book—Wolff writes at an odd remove, from the middle distance. The prose loses its immediacy and becomes diffuse. He’s not so much padding his book as filibustering his readers, perhaps hoping to deflect a reader’s attention from another revelation: He really hasn’t delivered the goods. All of Wolff’s most scandalous material was filleted and packed into the New York excerpt.

Listening to discussions among friends and colleagues, I keep hearing the same items, all from the magazine: Staffers think Trump might be (literally) illiterate, Steve Bannon thinks the Mueller investigation puts Trump’s family in legal jeopardy, the president uses vulgar language when talking about women. He is a child, Wolff wants us to know, and the disorder of his government is directly traceable to that alarming fact.

And it is indeed alarming, but nobody who has followed Trump’s Twitter feed or watched his news conferences will think it’s news. Wolff wrote a scintillating 7,000-word magazine article; the problem is that he spread it over a 328-page book. The rumor has gone around (hey, if he can do it, so can I) that before submitting his manuscript, Wolff warned his publisher that it didn’t contain much that was new. This explains a lot. Wolff clearly was unprepared for the explosion set off by the magazine article. You could see it in his halting explanations of his journalism techniques.

When his quotes were questioned, he let it be known that he had “dozens of hours” of tapes. (Other news reports inflated the number to hundreds.) When quotes continued to be questioned, he was asked, by colleagues and interviewers, to release the tapes. Wolff said his book threatens to bring down the president—on evidence that he alone has and won’t produce.

Spoken like a true journalist! Much has been made of this modern Hunsecker’s techniques. One explanation for the candor of his sources is that Wolff gained their confidence by misleading them about his intentions; they had concluded he was writing a book that would show the administration in a kinder light. “I said what I had to to get the story,” he proudly told one interviewer. Many of his colleagues in the press have shrugged at his willful misdirection—his deception, in fact—as a standard trick of the trade. They’re probably right.

But they demonstrated again the utter detachment of journalists from normal life. Whole professions are generally and rightly maligned—trial lawyers, car salesmen, lobbyists—because ordinary people see that prevarication is built into their work. When it comes to the people who write the books they read, they have a right to ask how far the deception goes. If a writer will mislead his sources, how can we be sure he won’t he do the same to his readers? “My evidence is the book,” Wolff responds.

I’m not sure what he means. In any case, as the Detumescence recedes, it becomes clearer that his evidence is thin. The book isn’t particularly good journalism, but it’s a triumph of marketing. Our Trump hatred has been targeted with such precision that we’ll lower any standard to embrace Fire and Fury, even if the tale as told signifies nothing, or nothing much.

A t one point during his 2000 campaign, George W. Bush gave his listeners a folksy admonition: “Don’t be takin’ a speck out of your neighbor’s eye when you got a log in your own.” This amused Frank Bruni of the New York Times, who called it “an interesting variation on the saying about the pot and the kettle.” Bruni’s words in turn amused the substantial portion of Americans who knew that Bush was actually quoting Matthew 7:3. To them it was simply unimaginable that someone could graduate Phi Beta Kappa with a degree in English and subsequently study at the Columbia School of Journalism, as Bruni did, without having once encountered the Sermon on the Mount. The anecdote revealed the extent to which, in the space of a few generations, America went from habitual Bible reading to biblical illiteracy, and of the most abject and utter kind.

This is the justification for the Museum of the Bible. The building has one passage of real brilliance.

The entrance portal on Fourth Street is flanked by a pair of immense bronze panels, nearly 40 feet high, that call to mind Boaz and Jachin, the mighty bronze pillars that guarded Solomon’s Temple. In fact, they are panels of text inscribed with the opening lines of Genesis, as printed in the Gutenberg Bible of 1454, the first mass-produced book to use moveable metal type. The letters are reversed, confusingly, until one realizes that this aids in making souvenir rubbings that themselves embody the printing process. The genesis evoked here is that of universal literacy and the cultural transformation wrought by the printed book. I n September 2015, the New York Times ran a rather peculiar chart. It was designed to elucidate just why certain Democrats would or would not vote for President Obama’s Iran nuclear deal—and it organized Democratic lawmakers by whether they were Jewish while noting how many Jews resided in their congressional districts.

The word “Jewish” was highlighted in yellow. After brief but significant blowback online, the Times removed the “Jewish” indicator. The editor who supervised the chart’s publication was Jonathan Weisman, deputy Washington editor for the newspaper. Now, two years later, Weisman has published a book about anti-Semitism—and, more specifically, about the supposedly grave threat to Jews springing from the alt-right and the Trump administration. (((Semitism))), for such is the book’s title, suffers from two grave ills.

First, Weisman believes that political leftism and Judaism are identical. Second, he knows little or nothing about the political right, in whose camp he places the alt-right movement. Combine these two shortcomings with a heavy dose of self-regard, and you get (((Semitism))): a toxic brew of anti-Israel sentiment, bagels-and-lox cultural Jewishness, and unbridled hostility toward mainstream conservatism, which he lumps together with despicable alt-right anti-Semitism. According to Weisman, Judaism derives its present-day importance from the way it provides a religious echo to secular leftism. This is his actual opening sentence: “The Jew flourishes when borders come down, when boundaries blur, when walls are destroyed, not erected.” Thus does he describe a people whose binding glue over the millennia is a faith tradition literally designed to separate its adherents from those who are not their co-religionists. E very day, more than 500 newspapers publish “Hints from Heloise.” The column, stuffed with practical household advice about everything from stain removal to saving money, has been in syndication since 1961. It was launched at a time when running a household was considered a full-time profession (the tombstone of the original Heloise, who died in 1977, reads, “Every Housewife’s Friend”).

But the column isn’t a throwback. It has endured for more than a half-century because it continues to offer people useful advice and information about their everyday concerns even as times have changed dramatically.

Rosenberg The Tradition Of The New

I was reminded of Heloise when I learned that the New York Times recently appointed a “gender editor” to oversee the newspaper’s coverage ofwell, of just about everything, evidently. The press release announcing the appointment of Jessica Bennett described her as leading a “multi-pronged initiative” that includes “pushing forward research into how tone, storyform, subjects, sources, and other elements of the report affect women’s consumption of it, and evangelizing best practices around the newsroom.” Indeed, the Times is going all-in on gender. Reporter Susan Chira was named “senior gender correspondent,” and the newspaper also created a gender editor for the op-ed page as well as another director of an internal Times Gender Initiative. In an interview with Teen Vogue, Bennett described her approach: “To me, what gender issues means is not simply coverage of feminism or issues related to women’s rights. Though of course that is important, and we’re committed to approaching those issues and approaching them from an intersectional lens. So whether that means stories about gender identity, or sexuality, or masculinity, or race and class and how that plays into gender identity, or simply the subjects that the Times already covers—politics, international affairs, science, health.” In short: everything.

In theory, the appeal of a “gender editor” is that she promises to help us navigate these revolutionary yet confusing times; in an interview with WNYC Radio’s “The Takeaway,” Bennett said as much, noting how the #metoo moment “feels like a tsunami” (she later added that it was also an “avalanche” and a “hurricane”). “There seems to be no end in sight,” she said, describing the flood of accusations and outings of harassers and sexual predators. “There is a sense of being overwhelmed.” Her message—echoed by others among this new breed of “woke” cultural-guidance counselors—is: Trust us! We will tell you what to think and how to behave in these turbulent times. Unfortunately, this new crop of intersectional Heloises do not inspire confidence, and their advice is more likely to come in the form of a shove rather than a hint.