During
the seminar on biodynamic viticulture Michel
Chapoutier made a number of comments involving the relationship
of winemaking and art. His comments raised some interesting
issues, and some unusual paradoxes. Michel
and his co-speaker, Ron Laughton from
Jasper Hill in Australia, both discussed their approaches to grape
growing and winemaking from a scientific standpoint. In fact,
Michel emphasized the importance of bacteria in the soil, which he
stated was important to the process of extracting minerals from the
soil. He also discussed the role of sulfites in the winemaking
process to avoid disasterous results in the wine. Notwithstanding
their emphasis on the science of winemaking, both winemakers stressed
their relatively "non-interventionist" approach. For
example, Ron spoke at length on the topic
of irrigation, which he believed was inappropriate intervention.
His goal was to grow grapes with lots of flavor, rather than growing for
volume of grapes. In particular, he believed that the most
expressive wines came from small berries with high skin to pulp ratios. The
question in my mind then arose: If winemaking is so heavily
reliant on the application of scientific knowledge, and if the goal in
making the "best" wine is to be as
"non-interventionist" as possible, then is winemaking really
an art, as opposed to a highly developed craft? When you think of
the current methods of "non-interventionist" winemaking--lack
of irrigation, low yields, use of indigenous yeasts, lack of filtration
and fining, etc.--the stated goal is always the same; to reduce the role
of the winemaker in order to express as clearly as possible the
attributes of the vineyard (the terroir). To
my mind, true art (at least great art) involves the act of creation, a
comment that Michel himself made. True art, therefore, requires
the active agency of the artist. It is the artist who channels the
creative force, from whatever inspiration, and then uses the media at
his or her disposal to express that creativity. Moreover, in my
view the most profound art is not simply about being attractive or
entertaining. Instead, the most profound art speaks to the human
condition--what it means to be human, either viewed as an individual, or
viewed in the context of one's universe. The
fundamental goal of winemaking, by contrast, is to produce a beverage
from fermented grape juice. While wine can be complex, its
essential purpose is to deliver pleasure, either by itself or as part of
a meal. It serves the same basic purpose as an appetizer, an
entree or a dessert. And while an entree may be creative and
complex, its essential function is to be delicious. An entree may
look fabulous on the plate--intricately constructed, with fascinating
combinations of colors and textures--but if it doesn't taste good, it is
a failure. Moreover,
if you accept the thesis that wine is best--most interesting and
expressive--when the winemaker intervenes as little as possible, then
the role of creativity in winemaking is reduced. I asked Ron
and Michel if they had an idea for the oak
treatment of the new wine that they would be making in Australia as part
of their joint venture, and the response was that they would wait until
they see what the vineyards produce and then decide what oak treatment
would be most appropriate. While I personally believe that this
approach is best, it also indicates to me that winemaking is really more
of a craft than a creative artist endeavor. While
I was ruminating on this topic, Michel came
back to the subject of artistry in wine. He used the analogy of a
painting. According to him, the artist's signature does not cover
the entire canvas; it is written in small letters in a corner of the
painting. Similarly, according to Michel, the true art of the
winemaker is NOT to place his signature predominantly on the wine.
His comment was that if you smell a wine and you immediately think of
the winemaker and not the vineyard, then the winemaker has not
appropriately used his or her art and has not respected the soil. Needless
to say, analogies can lead you astray. In winemaking, it may well
be that the best wines are made in the method he describes--letting the
raw materials do the talking. In art, however, it is not
necessarily the case that the best or most profound art is based
primarily on expressing the qualities of the raw materials. To use
an obvious example, two artists may take a blank canvas and three
colors. The first artist may paint a picture of a landscape,
keeping the colors distinct (unblended) and matching the colors on the
canvas to those in the landscape (the trees are green, the sky is blue,
etc.). The second artist may paint the same landscape, but may
freely blend the colors available and may often paint an element of the
landscape with a color other than what the eye sees. Is the first
painting necessarily a better work of art because it arguably is truer
to its raw materials? Of course not. A great painting need
not be wholly representational and true to its raw materials. Returning
to Michel's comments on the artist's
signature on the canvas, it is true that it would be unseemly for the
signature to take up the entire space. Even so, many artists work
with a style that is so unique, with specific colors, brushstrokes,
and/or compositions, that their work is instantly recognizable from
across the room. Think of Van Gogh, Picasso
or Monet. Or Motherwell
or Rauschenberg. Even in another
medium, like photography, it is relatively easy to pick out an Ansel
Adams. Or a Diane Arbus.
While they may not have stamped their actual names on their works, their
personal vision stands out. Put another way, art is not simply about capturing nature (although it can be); it is about symbols and ideas. The "Rosebud" sled in Citizen Kane is not solely there as a physical object; it is there as a symbol of what has been lost. Art can supply us with what appears to be a pipe, but with the caption "ceci n'est pas une pipe." Can you imagine a truly world-class wine tasting like a lemon-lime soda carrying a label which reads "ceci n'est pas un vin"? It might be interesting art, but it would not be a good wine.
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