{"id":82537,"date":"2015-02-09T19:36:03","date_gmt":"2015-02-10T00:36:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=82537"},"modified":"2015-02-09T21:04:55","modified_gmt":"2015-02-10T02:04:55","slug":"certificate-of-tastelessness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/02\/09\/certificate-of-tastelessness\/","title":{"rendered":"Certificate of Tastelessness"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_82539\" style=\"width: 610px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/thomas_bernhard.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-82539\" class=\"wp-image-82539\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/thomas_bernhard.jpg\" alt=\"Thomas_Bernhard\" width=\"600\" height=\"495\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/thomas_bernhard.jpg 687w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/thomas_bernhard-300x248.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-82539\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Thomas Bernhard in Portugal, 1986.<\/p><\/div>\n<blockquote>\n<p>At this point, we tired of it! Because what happens is, when you keep on diminishing art and not respecting the craft and smacking people in the face after they deliver monumental feats of music, you\u2019re disrespectful to inspiration \u2026 Then they do this whole promotional event, and they\u2019ll run the music over somebody\u2019s speech, an artist, because they want commercial advertising. No, we not playing with them no more. \u2014Kanye West on the Grammys, February 8, 2015<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>Every year, the stately procession of awards shows delivers us another imbroglio, and every year I wish that Thomas Bernhard, who would be eighty-four today, was still around to take the piss out of them. In a just world, our country\u2019s glossiest magazines would pay Bernhard to attend awards shows around the world, allotting him thousands of words with which to vent his signature blend of misanthropy, contumely, vitriol, and spleen, with no paragraph breaks. \u201cEverything is fundamentally sick and sad,\u201d Bernhard once wrote. And: \u201cThere is nothing but failure.\u201d If the Kanye Wests of our time were stealing the stage to say stuff like that, the state of our union would be stronger.<\/p>\n<p>Bernhard was full of vinegar for just about everyone and everything, but so severe was his allergy to pomp and circumstance that he wrote a book about it. <em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.indiebound.org\/book\/9780307272874\" target=\"_blank\">My Prizes: An Accounting<\/a><\/em> describes a variety of banal ceremonies Bernhard was swindled into attending because, you know, he was being feted at them. \u201cThe Grillparzer Prize,\u201d which opens the collection, provides a useful blueprint for anyone who hopes to disrupt the prizewinning paradigm. Some general instructions follow. <!--more--><\/p>\n<p><strong>Step One: Fly by the seat of your pants, and make sure those pants are only a few hours old.<\/strong> The start of \u201cThe Grillparzer Prize\u201d finds Bernhard buying a suit on a whim off the rack at St. Anthony\u2019s, one of the \u201cso-called finer emporiums\u201d where \u201ceven if the customer immediately says what he\u2019s looking for in the most concise terms, at first he\u2019ll be started at incredulously until he repeats what he wants \u2026 I myself knew better than the salesman where to find the suit I was looking for.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He wears it out of the store\u2014carrying his street clothes in a \u201cdeeply repellent\u201d bag with the St. Anthony\u2019s insignia on it\u2014and soon discovers that it doesn\u2019t fit.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Step Two: Attend the ceremony with your aunt.<\/strong> Why not? Bonus points if she\u2019s a phlegmatic, affectless, eighty-one-year-old aunt whose catchphrase is \u201cWell, all right.\u201d \u201cShe was very happy about the fact that the Academy of Sciences was awarding me that Grillparzer Prize today, she said, and proud, but more happy than proud.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Step Three: \u201cEat a sandwich to forestall any malaise or even fainting episode during the proceedings.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Step Four: No matter what, act as if you\u2019ve been snubbed the moment you arrive. <\/strong>Sit in the back of the room and refuse to take your assigned seat until the most important person in the house greets you, thus preventing the ceremony from starting on time.<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p>Up in front on the podium at ever-decreasing intervals excited gentlemen were running this way and that as if they were looking for something, namely me. The running this way and that by the gentlemen on the podium went on for a while, during which unrest was already breaking out in the hall. In the meantime the Minister of Sciences had arrived and taken her seat in the front row \u2026 Suddenly I saw a gentleman on the podium whisper something into the ear of another gentleman while simultaneously pointing into the tenth or eleventh row with an outstretched hand, I was the only one who knew he was pointing at me. What happened next is as follows: The gentleman who had whispered something into the ear of the other gentleman and pointed at me went down into the hall and right to my row and made his way along to me. Yes, he said, why are you sitting here when you\u2019re the most important person in this celebration and not up front in the first row where we, he actually said we, where we have reserved two places for you and your companion? Yes, why? \u2026 The President, said the gentleman, is asking you please to come to the front, so please come to the front, your seat is right next to the Minister, Herr Bernhard. Yes I said if it\u2019s that simple, but naturally I will only go into the first row if President Hunger has requested me <em>personally <\/em>to do so, it goes without saying only if President Hunger is inviting me <em>personally <\/em>to do so \u2026 I saw that President Hunger was laboriously making his way toward me. Now is the time to stand firm, I thought, demonstrate my intransigence, courage, single-mindedness. I\u2019m not going to go and meet them, I thought, just as (in the deepest sense of the word) they didn\u2019t meet me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p><strong>Step Five: Judge everyone.<\/strong> \u201cThe minister was snoring, even if quietly, she was snoring the world-famous ministerial snore. My aunt was following the so-called ceremony with the greatest attention, when some turn of phrase in one of the speeches sounded too stupid or even too comical, she gave me a complicit glance.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Step Six:<\/strong> <strong>When receiving your prize, regard it as an icon of hollowness, the apex of nihilism. <\/strong>\u201cI stood up and went to Hunger. He shook my hand and gave me a so-called award certificate of tastelessness, like every other award certificate I have ever received, that was beyond comparison \u2026 I thought over the entire ceremony now ending, whose peculiarity and tastelessness and mindlessness naturally had not yet had the chance to register in my consciousness.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Step Seven: Leave early when no one is looking. <\/strong>\u201cAfter a time the minister looked around and asked in a voice in which inimitable arrogance competed with stupidity: <em>So, where is the little poet? <\/em>I had been standing right next to her but I didn\u2019t dare to make myself known. I took my aunt and we left the hall.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Step Eight: Return the suit. <\/strong>It doesn\u2019t fit anyway. Nothing fits. \u201cWhoever buys the suit I have just returned, I thought, has no idea that it\u2019s been with me at the awarding of the Grillparzer Prize of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna. It was an absurd thought, and at this absurd thought I took heart.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><em>Dan Piepenbring is the web editor of <\/em>The Paris Review.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>At this point, we tired of it! Because what happens is, when you keep on diminishing art and not respecting the craft and smacking people in the face after they deliver monumental feats of music, you\u2019re disrespectful to inspiration \u2026 Then they do this whole promotional event, and they\u2019ll run the music over somebody\u2019s speech, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13633],"tags":[13504,16972,12325,16971,1497,12943,15978,7515],"class_list":["post-82537","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-department-of-tomfoolery","tag-austria","tag-authority","tag-awards","tag-honors","tag-kanye-west","tag-prizes","tag-scenes","tag-thomas-bernhard"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Thomas Bernhard Knew How to Mock Awards Shows<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Bernhard, who would be eighty-four today, behaved so poorly at prize ceremonies that Kanye West looks saintly by comparison.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/02\/09\/certificate-of-tastelessness\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Certificate of Tastelessness by Dan Piepenbring\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"February 9, 2015 \u2013 At this point, we tired of it! 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