One of the most
striking things I've learnt from Richard Ellmann’s monumental work was that Joyce
had poor taste in art. Not in music (was a remarkable tenor and had a great understanding
of opera), not in wine (he only drank white), not in poetry (he had his doubts
about Ezra Pound) – but in the visual and decorative art.
As Ellmann writes, he
brought to his home in Europe (and Ireland was not Europe, not in those days)
absolutely hideous vases and such.
Tasteless, utterly vulgar things. And this was not Nora – he was himself responsible
for it, and in fact took some great pride in buying those pieces.
Probably not a
paradox at all. Could of course be an element of profanity in every genius. After
all, his taste in literature was impeccable. But then I’m reminded of the first
appearance of Leopold Bloom and I get this strong feeling that if you strip
that scene of words – you are not left with too much taste. Are you. But then
the words were all he had and the words were all that mattered.
