A Slight Delay

 The Dada painters and poets aren’t exactly on the tip of people’s tongues these days. Styles and tastes change, and what seemed fresh and shocking in 1920 doesn’t have the same impact now that it did then. Hell, things done more recently than that don’t shock like they used to, either. Just ask Damien Hirst.

But as I was saying. John Heartfield (1891-1968) has faded into obscurity, known mostly to art history students, artists, and a handful of other people. It’s a shame, really, because Heartfield presaged some of the methods, and the esthetic, of Pop art, influenced his contemporaries, and helped–whether he either realized it, wanted it, or not–to usher in a breed of contemporary artists (Cindy Sherman comes to mind) who would mine the same vein that Heartfield did, but without his insight or mordant humor. (more…)

  Hooray! The cardboard is gone! So what, you ask, does John Heartfield have to do with sports nutrition?

Well, here’s the thing: I don’t always have time to eat breakfast, or find myself needing a little something to pick me up during the day. I thought, a long time ago, that “sports nutrition bars” might be the way to go. And I would see the bars in health food stores, at supermarkets, and in train stations, all promising flavor with a burst of energy. Sounds good.

But what it tastes like is something else altogether. Power Bars, for instance, taste as though someone has bound pine needles, rat ears, tree bark, eye of newt and the bones of some saint or other together with high fructose corn syrup. Zone, Power Bar Pria, and others taste about the same; less like food than the byproducts of some industrial process or other. The only energy generated by these things comes from the calories burned when you discreetly rid yourself of (or spit with tremendous force) the offending mouthful. I invariably feel, in other words, like one of the hapless individuals in Heartfield’s montage.

But I keep trying. They can’t all taste like you’ve licked the floor at a bad Country and Western joint (ie. sawdust and peanut shells), can they? The answer is, they don’t. Clif Bars (roughly a buck at your local Trader Joe’s) have a great texture, and a taste that’s maybe a little too good. Take your pick: Cherry Almond, Crunchy Peanut Butter, Peanut Toffee Buzz… not a dud in the lot. Even flavors like Chocolate Brownie, Banana Nut Bread, and Carrot Cake taste like the things they purport to represent. No more cardboard!

Trader Joe’s
Clif Bar
The art and life of John Heartfield, courtesy of Towson University.
And you can find a more substantial post on Heartfield (minus the oats and fiber) here.