I picked up my copy of Air Guitar again recently and have been thoroughly smitten. Dave Hickey's writing is the complete opposite of the dry, pretentious garbage that I've forced myself through way too many times. I love how he weaves his childhood and everyday experiences into the context of what he is writing about. I guess some would call it narcissistic or self-absorbed, but I'm more on the side that this is a more honest way of writing about the experience of art and that a cold and clinical approach kills the work.
In "Pontormo's Rainbow," Hickey talks about being "ravished by color," and how when art abandons color it becomes trapped by language, history and representation. Color, he writes, is "...a respite from language and history," and, in a funny way, it feels like his writing brings color back into the boring black and white realm of art criticism.
