On the Lexicon of Traditionalism, Modernism, Post-Modernism and Perhaps Deconstructivism in the Characterization of Wine

I woke up this morning to Julian Marshall’s post referring to a wine that I commented on, Domaine Roche Nueve’s Les Memoires, a very old vine Cabernet Franc, as “post-modern”. I assume it was meant to characterize a wine that had traditional roots but modern fruit, without venturing into the spoof that we have found in some more modern styles. I clearly have fallen prey to calling wines like those made by Rolland or Cambie, as “modern”. And I definitely have used the term “modern” as a pejorative.

I occasionally cringe when I use that term. I am a modernist. I grew up in a universe of mid-century thought, influenced so heavily by my amazingly talented and artistic mother, who introduced me to the beauty of art and architecture. I was also influenced by my father, an aerospace engineer, who like many engineers, believe that the beauty of a creation is in the form following function without any necessary adornment. Minimalism, really.

I entered architecture school in 1983, without knowing what I called it, as devout modernist. My artistic ideals then, and which remain now, were the cubists and modernists, think Mondrian, Picasso, Braque. The art in my house is mostly Cuban modernism from the 1950s-70s. My architectural reference point started and literally still ends with the genius of Le Corbusier. Mies van der Rohe and Gropius, from the Bauhaus movement, would be in the mix as well. I guess we now call that mid-century modernism, and what evolved from these visionaries, think Palm Springs, California, in particular the historic gas station that is now a welcome center to the city. From that, we evolved into the modernistic styles of Richard Meier, Peter Eisenman, Charles Gwathmey, and at that time, Michael Graves.

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Le Corbusier, Villa Savoy (1931)

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Richard Meier, Smith House (1967)


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Albert Frey, Palm Springs Gas Station (1965)


And then modernism devolved. It devolved into a gross characterization of something called architecture, the post-modern generation. This style developed in the 1970s but really gained prevalence in the 1980s, with Michael Graves transforming himself from a modernist, to something where “more is more” became the motto. This style and era is characterized by a professed devotion to traditionalism but with what they called modern thought. It was Franken-architecture. Think out of proportion, collosally-scaled buildings with over-adornment of decoration. While in my architecture college, there was a clash between those of us that thought of ourselves as Howard Roark types - yes we were likely arrogant snobs for sure - and those that we thought adopted this post-modern movement because it was contemporary, easy to understand, perhaps superficially appealing to some eyes. It was the new vogue.

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Michael Graves

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Phillip Johnson, AT&T Building (1982)



See a parallel? And therein lies my conflict.

Should we not be calling the wines of Rolland, Cambie, Derenoncourt, Heidi Barrett, et al, these newer style wines, “post-modern” rather than “modern”? And you may know where I fall on my appreciation of this style, especially after my comments above, but this is really meant to be non-judgmental. I acknowledge that people like this style of wine just like they appreciate that style of architecture. My post is more on what, if anything, we call these stylistic movements. Assuming they are even styles.

Of course, to have post-modernism we must have modernism. I’m thinking Emile Peynaud, Mondavi, Baron Phillipe de Rothschild. Clearly these revolutionary thinkers broke from the orthodoxy of the past to advance wine-making practices and philosophies to a new generation. Certainly others here can wax more philosophically on their advancements better than I can. Ironically, Rolland was a pupil of Peynaud. And like Michael Graves transforming his modernist to the next generation, Rolland took Peynaud’s precepts perhaps several steps too far. This is post-modernism to me.

It’s a bit early for all this rambling. I just had this stuff in my head. I’ll circle back to add more clarity of thought, but perhaps you can help me refine, or just debunk, what I am thinking now. Maybe I’m drawing a connection to art, architecture and wine that does not exist. I think it does, I just have not been calling it correctly.

Honestly, in my opinion, I think you are way over thinking it (that’s a first in the history of oenophilia, I think). There are just so many factors that make a wine what it is that trying to place them in a couple of artificial categories is essentially meaningless. Just drink what you like.

If I like one post modern progressive metalcore band but don’t like another one, am I a fan of that style of music or not? Who really cares as I am not going to listen to a band I don’t like just because I am supposed to, or turn my nose up at bands in other genres just because someone has an artificial category that says I shouldn’t like them

I never knew people placed Heidi Barrett in the same camp as Rolland, Cambie, etc. - although perhaps more modern-styled, I’ve never found her wines to be OTT.

Perhaps, but that’s what we do!

Naturally, there is also a flaw in my premise, and it would leave me in a quandary. The quandary is, what would I call post-postmodernist wines? And the flaw, aren’t all traditional wines really modern, by my premise above? Or, perhaps in the context of our generation, modern is traditional.

Yes, way over-thinking. But that is always better than not thinking. Thinking and drinking go hand-in-hand, sometimes dangerously so. And no, I have not started my Saturday drinking. Yet. :wink:

Isn’t it usually problematic whenever you start thinking? Sure seems to be… :wink: neener

That’s also when I start billing, which is problematic. Sending you an invoice now . . . .

So basically, now I’ll have to retain you to combat your fake invoice? Nice racket.

As for thread, Dadaism is probably a better comparison than post-modernism, at least for some of the Cambie monstrosities I’ve tasted…

I spell it as “racquet” so that I can charge more.

I chortled.

Modernism and postmodernism already mean different things in art criticism and in philosophy, literary and aesthetic theory. A lot of ink has been spilled to try to make the term postmodernism coherent, really to no avail. You should back away slowly and then run as fast as you can away from trying to make these terms apply to wine in the same way, especially since wine is neither art nor criticism. For instance, a term of praise in art is to make it new and that is just what you are trying to avoid in wine. I didn’t know that the term postmodern was now being applied to wine and I hope that it soon will not be. That way madness lies.

lol, when I was writing that dribble, I was thinking you would come in and lacerate it! Damn philosophers. :wink:

There was a fantastic lecture in my senior year of architecture, 1988, with Peter Eisenmann and the Dean of the College of Philosophy, talking about this very subject. Really more about morphology, typology and character, perhaps. At that time, Peter was disassociating himself from the modernist and post-modernist pack, referring to himself as more of a deconstructivist. Frank Gehry was as well.

But, when I think of Troplong Mondot, I really do think of Michael Graves, or that picture of Tammy Faye Baker crying with her make-up running in ungodly patterns.

Wow, what did you have for breakfast this morning?!! I can’t comment much on the architectural analogies, but I do get your point - which is certainly not dribble.

Finding the right terminology is tough. What is traditional, what is modern, what is old-fashioned? You’re quite right that when I write post-modern, I should probably write post-“modern”.

The problem is that many people think of modern wines as being Parker-influenced, so very ripe and with lots of toasty oak. For me, those wines are now old-fashioned. There’s nothing wrong with them but I think times have changed. For me, a modern wine is Roches-Neuves, Clos du Jaugueyron, all the other organic wines which will become increasingly the norm. The Belle-Vue I tried last week was different but the modern touch was there too. Occasionally, I come across a St.Emilion in my cellar that I forgot to sell, which is made in the 90s style - it’s quite fun to go back in time once in a while, even if they do give me a headache. But how do I describe them in a way that everyone can understand without sounding pejorative? I can’t keep calling them mullets or Hoffs! If I say a wine is old-fashioned, it’ll mean one thing to one person and the opposite to someone else.

First off, thanks for classing up the joint here! It’s like tuning into PBS on a weekend morning.

As an English major, I will draw analogies to literature.

After WWI, Modernist writers like James Joyce and William Faulkner turned to consciousness and exploring the inner self. Narratives became more jumbled, with beginning, middle and end rearranged. Gone were enlightened and romantic ideas of social progress and a brave new world.

Starting in the 60s, post modernism took hold. Writers like Thomas Pynchon and William Gass threw ideas of traditional narrative out the window. There was no such thing as objective reality, only subjective experience. Moral relativism, irreverence, paranoia and absurdism are common hallmarks.

Later writers like Charlie Kaufman and David Foster Wallace explored meta-fiction, where references to and emphasis on the structure of the work becomes central to its meaning. The writers may wink to the reader that they know they are in the work of fiction, for example. Its bedrock: black humor, games, constant self-referencing, and above all else, an examination of irony.

The next evolution is post-postmodernism, which is still emerging. It abandons this “anything goes” mentality and self-referencing. Gone is the unreliable narrator and pop-culture nods. It aims to return to a more stripped-down, honest examination of daily life in a new century.

OK, enough of Lit 101! Now onto the hard task of applying these labels I’ve attached to literature to winemaking.

Modern: To me, these are vintners like Robert Mondavi and Paul Draper – men who embraced classic French winemaking styles but married it to a kiss of California sunshine and ripe, abundant fruit. Like F. Scott Fitzgerald building off what Henry James had done before him …

Post-modern: These are the winemakers like the brave souls in Italy or Spain who had the temerity to create the Super-Tuscan model, using “forbidden” grapes and American oak (gasp!) in their region. These become the poster children for glossy “international” wines derided by purists. (Once again, many people call these wines modern but I aruge they are post-modern.) Other post-modern examples might include the anti-terrorists – winemakers who aren’t beholden to the idea of traditional “narrative” and “structure.” Quality wine doesn’t rely on a particular patch of dirt, or elevation, or site orientation. They’ll plant whatever they want, wherever they want – so long as the wines tastes good to them. (Paging, Tom Hill!). Here we see oddball varietals planted in odd places, consciously stripped down AFWE wines, high-octane wines with grapes picked at maximum ripeness, etc. These are the Kurt Vonneguts of winemaking. And in a twist, I also put hipster winemakers embracing ancient methods in this post-modern label – skin-contact whites, wines aged in amphora for years, etc.

Post-post-modern: I think of these winemakers as the artisans who are less focused on a particular ideology or being “central” to the story. These vintners make unfussy wines that don’t make a lot of noise and speak for themselves. They are rooted in the past, but they are not hidebound. They rely on traditional sites and winemaking, but are willing to experiment and embrace new techniques for their region – be it whole cluster, picking times, site location, etc. Examples: the new breed of Young Turks in Beaujolais and Burgundy – like Jules Metras or Charly Thevenet; or Guillaume Gilles or Xavier Gerard in N. Rhone; and in CA – Tegan Passalacqua at Sandlands or Morgan Twain-Peterson at Bedrock. These are the Lydia Davises of today’s winemaking. (Please read her work!)

Actually Robert, thinking more about it and re-reading your first post: wines made in the most recent style (i.e. not Rollland/Magrez/whoever else-made) are minimalist - less intervention, less tweaking, less this, less that, purer, uncluttered - so why couldn’t they just be “minimalist”? The Noughties-style wines could just be termed Noughty!!

And you were doing such a good job of elevating the level of discussion, until you wrote dribble instead of drivel neener

Lol. The Cuban coffee wore off, I was exhausted.

You can rescue it with a basketball analogy, like the Celtics “Cousy” era, vs. “Russel” era, vs. the “Bird” era.

Robert:

I agree with Matthew’s “PBS” comment. Thanks for the informative and thought-provoking post.

Thanks for all the thought-provoking comments, guys. Well, except Alex and Alan. [wow.gif]

Great post overall, Matthew. This statement resonated. This is where I am at, and I think Claus and Julian are, too. Wines like Clos du Jaugueyron typify that point. Iconoclasts, but seeking honesty, transparency. They build upon obvious predecessors like Jean Gautreau, Foucault, and Marcel Juge.

The wines do not have to be great to be great. That have to be honest, transparent, and be what they were intended to be, from that place and time. Pardon the existential tangent, but it’s relevant. I’m not just seeking wine that tastes good. That’s pop culture.