On an assignment in New York, William Boyd visited a group show where he chanced upon a drawing by an artist called Nat Tate. Intrigued by what he saw, he began to unravel the sad but intriguing story of this Abstract Expressionist painter whose brief career ended tragically, and almost without a trace, at the age of thirty one."
Such is the nominal explanation for Boyd"s enthralling and hilarious fake biography. At heart, this is an investigation of authenticity: what make something real as opposed to invented? The answer lies, almost exclusively, in the way it is presented. Photos, documentation, personal reminiscence by others, acknowledgments, notes, copyright declarations, permissions, and, of course, the 'monograph' format itself.
Nat Tate is both an unusual spoof and also a fascinating investigation of the blurry line between the invented and the authentic, the wholly false and the utterly real.
Such is the nominal explanation for Boyd"s enthralling and hilarious fake biography. At heart, this is an investigation of authenticity: what make something real as opposed to invented? The answer lies, almost exclusively, in the way it is presented. Photos, documentation, personal reminiscence by others, acknowledgments, notes, copyright declarations, permissions, and, of course, the 'monograph' format itself.
Nat Tate is both an unusual spoof and also a fascinating investigation of the blurry line between the invented and the authentic, the wholly false and the utterly real.
The book freely mixes fact and fiction, as Tate interacts with famous artistic figures in the way of Woody Allen in "Zelig" and of Tom Hanks in "Forrest Gump." (Picasso barely speaks to him; Braque is gracious but gently corrects his pronunciation of van Gogh).
New York Times, April 1998