I know you're not allowed to say this now. Art could be anything. Anyone's an artist.
People go to court, you know,
"I can't make a cake for a gay couple, a wedding cake,
because the cake is my art."
Aside from the political aspect of that, which is reprehensible,
there's also the aspect… I have news for you, Mr. Baker, you know?
If you can eat it, it's not art.
-Okay? -[Martin laughs]
If you can say, "I'll have that and a cup of coffee," that's not art.
That's a snack.
-♪ Baby ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Oh baby ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Do I love you? ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ No one above you ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Now hold me tight ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ And make everything all right ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Because the night time ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Oh, is the right time ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ To be with the one you love now ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Oh yeah, now ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Tease me ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-♪ Squeeze me ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
-[Fran] Yes? -[man] Hi.
Can you talk about your current projects?
Can I talk about current writing projects? Give me your number. I'll call you.
[laughter]
[woman] How can one learn a sense of humor?
How can you acquire a sense of humor? The same way you can acquire height.
-[laughter] -Yeah.
[Martin] What were you saying about somebody putting a shoot on Instagram?
I'm outside, a guy goes, "I saw this on Instagram so I thought I'd come by."
Who put this on Instagram?
-[Martin] No, I know. I can't believe it. -Isn't that a bad idea, don't you think?
-♪ I said, baby ♪ -♪Night and day ♪
-♪ Baby ♪ -♪ Night and day ♪
♪ Whoa! ♪
I remember the first time I recognized a lack of talent in myself.
I played the cello as a child,
and we had a school orchestra. Every school had an orchestra.
This public school… Every public school had an orchestra.
Um, and they lent you the cello.
At a certain age, I don't remember what age it was,
the school took back these cellos,
and if you wanted to continue playing, you had to buy a cello.
So I remember very well telling this to my parents,
"We have to give the cello back and now we have to buy a cello."
Um, and I remember we lived in a little split-level house.
There were like, I don't know, four stairs and then the kitchen.
And I would sit on the stairs and listen to my parents talk.
And I heard my parents trying to figure out how to pay for a cello.
And so I went into the kitchen,
where I wasn't meant to know they were having this talk,
and I said, "You know, don't buy me a cello."
"I'm not good. I'm really not good.
It's not worth it. It's not worth spending the money on me on this."
And my mother said, "Well, you know, that's 'cause you don't practice enough."
"If you practiced more, you'd be good."
And I said, "No, if I practiced more, I'd be better,
but I'm never gonna be good."
I really enjoyed it. It's the only thing I can remember enjoying that I was bad at.
-Um… -[Martin chuckles]
With the whole orchestra playing, you don't hear how bad I am.
It's a kind of beautiful experience.
Plus, Leonard Bernstein was my childhood idol.
["William Tell Overture" by Gioachino Rossini playing]
Leonard Bernstein had a television show when I was a child
called Young People's Concerts,
and it was on Sunday,
and I would be waiting every Sunday to see Leonard Bernstein.
I adored him.
Real children went to these concerts.
Not me, but I would see the children go in.
It probably was, like, two years till I realized they were real.
Like, "These are real children?" I guess I thought they were actors.
Okay. Now what do you think that music's all about?
Music is notes.
Beautiful notes and sounds put together in such a way
that we get pleasure out of listening to them. That's all there is to it.
He would explain things on TV,
and also he looked exactly like a child's idea of an orchestra conductor.
This was also very helpful.
["William Tell Overture" by Gioachino Rossini playing]
"This is the thing that can be done on this instrument,
and this is not you, Fran. You cannot do this."
It wouldn't matter how much I practiced. I knew that. Okay? So that was it.
So I knew what talent was,
because I was very aware of the lack of it in myself, okay, in this.
When I was little, at one point, I wanted to be an artist and I thought,
"Why did you decide not to?" Because…
And then I thought, "You decided not to be an artist. Too pleasurable, Fran."
Too pleas-- It's pleasurable for me to draw.
So it's like, the kind of harsh judge that I am of other people,
I am much worse on myself.
It's like when people say, "Why are Jews not allowed to eat bacon?"
-And I always say, "Too delicious." -[Martin laughs]
"It's too delicious."
At some point, someone said, "This is really delicious. No."
So, at some point, I must have thought, in some unconscious way,
-"Drawing, painting, too pleasurable. No." -[Martin] Too good, yeah.
Where do you think your sense of humor comes from? Is it more nature or nurture?
I would say nature, because there wasn't that much nurture of it, I assure you.
-[laughter] -I mean, in fact, it was punished.
As a child, I was a girl. Perhaps you do not share this experience.
And my mother said to me,
when I got to be 12 or something like that,
"Don't be funny around boys. Boys do not like funny girls."
-Unfortunately, she was wrong. -[laughter]
But the only thing I ever won, in the ninth grade,
I won the Class Wit award, and I was afraid to bring it home.
What school did you go to that they gave an award for wit?
It was the Morristown Junior High School,
which was the last time I graduated from anything.
-They had the Wittiest Person in Class? -Yes. Class Wit.
-It wasn't a rough field, you know. -[laughter]
I wasn't vying with Oscar Wilde.
[laughter]
I remember when I was young, really young, like 12, 13 or whatever,
I would be at my parents' house, where I lived. Um…
I remember lying on the lawn, looking up into the sky, thinking,
"How am I gonna get out of here?"
I don't want you to think I had a Dickensian childhood. I didn't.
But it was not suitable for me.
You know, it wasn't that it was a bad place.
It was just like, "No, this isn't the right place for me."
[Martin] Why do you think so many young people still come to New York?
What's here?
New York. That's what's here.
-[Martin] I mean-- -What's not here?
That's the way to look at it. Wherever they're from is not here.
So they come here.
One of the reasons people our age came to New York,
if you were gay, was because you were gay.
So now you can be gay anywhere.
Okay? So, um…
But we came here, um, because you couldn't live in those places.
Um, and so that created, you know, a kind of, um…
density of, um, angry homosexuals,
which is always good for a city.
There's nothing better for a city than a dense population of angry homosexuals.
Um, also, and then, at a certain point, very happy homosexuals
when you find out it's so fun here!
Many people, um, that I know who came to New York from places other than New York,
um, many people had a lot of success.
More than people who were born in New York.
And I think that's because people born in New York understood how hard it was.
But if you didn't know how hard it was, you just came.
You know, I mean, I wrote poetry when I was young.
I walked into the office of Grove Press,
which was this very revered, kind of, you know, bohemian press,
um, with a book of poetry I'd written.
And I walked in, barefoot, I'd like to point out.
I walked around New York barefoot.
The astonishing thing to me is that I'm alive, having walked barefoot in New York.
And I walked in, and I put the manuscript on the desk of the receptionist.
And I said, "I'm a poet."
-I mean, "I'm a poet." Really? -[Martin chuckles]
"Hello, John Donne."
"I'm a poet. I'm a poet,
um, and I'd like to submit this manuscript."
"Okay," she said.
And I left it there, and then I waited every day
for the letter to come, saying,
"We are so delighted to have discovered you as a great poet."
Finally, the letter did come, saying, "Thank you anyway."
[chuckles] Um…
But after my first book came out, one of the first things I thought was,
"Thank goodness they didn't publish that book,"
because, of course, I was a terrible poet, and then they would've republished it.
So I was very lucky to have been rejected.
[woman] As legend has it, you were tossed out of high school
and went to New York. How did you survive?
-What did you do when you got to New York? -[Fran] It never seemed daunting to me.
At least I didn't think that I couldn't do things, you know.
And that's kind of remarkable,
considering the fact of what a failure I was in school,
which was my only profession before that.
You can't be a bigger academic failure
than to be thrown out of high school senior year.
It wasn't like I had a lifetime of success behind me buoying me up.
Um, but I just didn't think about it.
I just went to New York to be a writer, and that was it.
I loved to write when I was child.
I loved to write until the very first time I got an assignment to write for money.
And then I hated to write.
I have known…
I would say, only one really, really good writer in my life who loves to write.
Only one, um, loves to write. Most people who love to write are horrible writers.
Of course they love to write. I love to sing. I'm a horrible singer.
If you love to do something you're really bad at, that's not surprising.
Here's the thing.
Like, you can do a lot of things that are not good,
and there's nothing wrong with doing things ineptly or badly or horrifyingly,
but keep it to yourself.
Do not share this.
I think people have an obligation to show to the world things that are…
Not great, most people aren't capable of that,
but better than most things people show to the world.
Now, people show everything. Every single thing. Um…
Uh, there's nothing wrong with it, morally, um,
but I wonder, like, you know, how these people who are…
The people who have always done this, who are young,
who have always lived in this world,
um, I wonder how they would judge anything.
-[Martin] Mmm. -You know?
And since, you know, basically, making distinctions is my profession
and judging is my profession,
I don't think there's any people like me in a young generation.
They wouldn't be allowed to be like me.
Not that my life has been a bed of roses, not that people love the way I am,
but, you know, they're…
they're either incredibly critical in a kind of crazy way,
like, you know, "I hate your hair style. You should die."
You know, or they're incredibly overpraising of people.
"Oh, that's great. Oh, you're great. Keep going. You're great."
You know, I would basically say, you know,
"Your hairstyle?
No one should be killed for your hairstyle, but your writing?
Stop. Don't keep going. You're not great."
Once I asked you because you often express how much you like to write.
-Not a thing writers frequently say. -[laughs]
I asked why you like to write. You said, "Because otherwise I'm stuck with life."
[Toni laughs]
Well, yeah.
Well, I have to say that after I finished the first book I wrote, The Bluest Eye,
there was a period of melancholy that was very profound, and I--
Now I know.
I can anticipate that feeling at the close of a novel, um,
and at the close of the last revision,
that constant picking over it and picking over it
and making sure it's this word and not that word.
Um, but it's true.
"Stuck with life" may be a little strong, Fran, but it's certainly--
-I'm just quoting you, accurately. -[Toni laughs]
The main thing writers need, or painters, or any other kind of artist, is talent.
And the great thing about talent is that it is the one thing,
the only thing I can think of,
that is absolutely randomly distributed throughout the population of the world.
It has nothing to do with anything. It has-- You cannot buy it.
You cannot learn it. You know, you cannot inherit it.
You can't. It's not genetic. Okay?
It is just sprinkled like sand around the world, and it could come up anywhere.
Now, there are many places where you might have this talent,
but you have no ability to express it. Okay?
There are many places like that, but,
um, and it is probably the reason why people are always,
especially in this country, um,
looking for explanations for, um, success of a book or--
When I say "success," I don't mean commercial success. Other than talent.
Because it's infuriating to people.
[Ted] How rich was Edith Wharton when she started?
[Fran] Very rich. Edith Wharton was extremely rich.
She was immensely rich. Okay?
The main thing that makes Edith Wharton a great writer is talent.
But the privileges of her wealth and her class is why we have this book,
which is riveting.
But it's very rare for someone in that class to write.
So most people who wrote about that class were outside.
That was real unusual for a woman especially.
I mean, there were plenty of other rich women
during the era of Edith Wharton, and they didn't write these books.
Since there's always gonna be rich women, it's good if you get one like this.
There's a letter here that I'm gonna read from the New York Times on July 31st, um,
in this article I read the other night.
"An administrator in the city's education department denounces a reading skills exam
that used an extract from Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence."
And it was, it read, the passage in question begins, quote,
"It was generally agreed in New York that Countess Olenska had 'lost her looks.'"
The complaint is that, quote, "Any girl taking the exam," unquote,
will experience the mention of losing your looks as a, quote, "psychic punch."
-[laughter] -Unquote.
Not to mention the countesses, who might… You know, it's like…
Um, I've always taken a lot of care not to offend any countesses. Um.
[laughter]
What am I-- This is insane!
Okay? I mean, but I'm very delighted.
This is the only way you're gonna get them to read Edith Wharton, by the way, so, um…
[seagulls mewing]
[Marvin Gaye] An artist, if he is truly an artist,
is, um, only interested in one thing,
and that is to wake up the minds of men.
To have mankind and womankind realize
that, um, there is something greater than what we see on the surface.
So, that, um, is always reflected in a true artist's music
or his works, his paintings.
♪ Want you, baby ♪
♪ Did you hear me? Hey ♪
♪ Oh baby ♪
♪ I want you, baby ♪
♪ Get it, woo! ♪
♪ Did you hear me? ♪
[Marvin] We're going to the top right now. Go on to the top.
Top, top.
This is the vamp, vamp.
Say, we'll probably do four of these, four of these.
I like it. [vocalizes bass sound]
♪ Oh, I want you ♪
♪ Want you, baby ♪
♪ I want you ♪
[Fran] I understand how many things are made.
Not that I could do it, but I know how you make a painting, you make a drawing.
But I don't know how you write a song.
[Marvin] All right, y'all, play it for me one time.
♪ Woo! ♪
[Fran] I know how you write lyrics,
but I don't know how you write a piece of music.
And I realize sometimes I have seen films
of, um, huge concerts of very popular musicians.
Um, and now they have all these cameras that go over there,
and you can see the faces of the people, you know.
And I'm always, when I see this, I'm very interested in the audience.
And I see this, and I…
You see how happy and grateful the people are for this music.
You know, especially popular music of their youth.
It doesn't matter whether the popular music of their youth
was Frank Sinatra or Billy Joel or David Bowie or, you know, Q-Tip.
This is, "Don't you remember when we went on our first date?
This was the music. Remember?"
This is centrally important to people.
And they love the person who gave this to them.
And the whole thing is a mystery to them.
-No one is loved like musicians. -[Martin] Mm-hmm.
You know, no arts… Musicians are loved by people.
You know, really loved,
because they give them the ability to express their emotions and their memories.
There's no other form that does that.
I mean, I really think that musicians,
probably musicians and cooks,
are responsible for the most pleasure in human life.
You know. And so, like,
Motown music, which was very popular when I was a teenager,
um, whenever I hear it, I instantly become happier.
There's just no question that it makes me happier.
Now, this is true of almost nothing.
Okay. Now, do I think, like, Motown is the greatest music ever made?
You know, I don't.
But if you asked me, "The second you hear this, do you feel happier?" I do.
Okay? That's a very important thing to do for human beings.
I mean, music makes people happier, um, and it doesn't harm them.
Most things that make you feel better are harmful. You know, so it's very unusual.
It's like a drug that doesn't kill you.
There is a lot to be said for being in physical contact with other artists.
Hanging around.
-Hanging around is important. -[Martin] There was Max's--
Yeah, Max's and a million places. And a million places before that.
And that was New York. That was Paris. That was…
Different times, different cities. Um…
But it's very important.
And I remember when Michael Bloomberg first made that smoking law, um,
and I would still, like, actually speak to him,
I said, "Do you know, um, what artists sitting around in bars and restaurants,
talking and drinking and smoking, is called?"
He said, "What?" I said, "It's called the history of art." Okay?
If you… Like just think.
If Picasso had to get up, go outside to smoke…
[Martin chuckles]
…he might've missed something.
Would you say a great athlete is on par with a great artist?
Um, I would say that a great athlete is on par with a great dancer.
But not a great writer.
[Spike] I disagree.
I know. I'm shocked.
[laughter]
I am flabbergasted.
I would say, for me--
The only person who disagrees with me as much as you are my relatives.
I wouldn't… Michael Jordan is on par with Sinatra,
Michelangelo…
Count Basie, Duke Ellington.
He's on that level. And you can't… For me!
He may be on that level in his sport. I'm not saying he isn't. I don't know.
Everyone calls him the greatest basketball player. I believe you.
I'm not gonna argue who's the greatest player.
But it's not he's just a great, but what the man… I mean…
Whatever field you work at, when you go to that level, it's like the pantheon.
Of course, I agree, they're the highest level.
However, 40 years after he dies, no one's gonna listen to a Michael Jordan record
like you can a Duke Ellington record.
You can always have Duke Ellington, because there's a,
not just a record in the sense of a vinyl record,
there is a record of his work.
The work is the same. Michael Jordan doesn't continue to play basketball.
He doesn't leave a permanent record.
Do you watch old Michael Jordan basketball games?
-You can. -[Fran] I know you can.
Okay? I know you may.
-[Spike laughs] -But do you?
Isn't part of the excitement how the game ends?
-Yes, but-- -You already know.
But after…
Does Picasso still paint? Is he still painting?
No, but the pictures we have are the same pictures that he painted.
-What do you mean? -There's no element of suspense.
You don't say, "How does this come out?" That's not why you look at a Picasso.
Isn't part of the reason you watch a basketball game to see who wins?
If you already know who wins, Michael Jordan already won, do you watch it again?
Yes. You're more like, "How the fuck did he do that?"
Okay. Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it.
[dramatic music playing]
[man 1] We move to the Femmes d'Alger.
Picasso's Femmes d'Alger. Wonderful painting.
Where do we open this? $100 million to open it. 100 million.
105 million.
[man 2] Great Picasso, Nude, Green Leaves and Bust from 1932.
$58 million to start us.
Why not? 129 million. Who will give me 130? 47 might do it.
At $92 million. 93 million.
Wait, wait, wait. 147, you see? 147.
93 million. Against you here. Against you here.
Don't wait. 147, I'll sell it against you.
$95 million. Last chance at 95. 95 million.
Valiant bidding. Thank you so much. At $160 million, ladies and gentlemen.
Fair warning. Picasso's Femmes d'Alger, selling it here at Christie's.
$160 million.
-Right. It's yours, sold. -[applause]
You think, in terms of our culture now, any of the art forms,
which is the most, I don't know, wanting at this point?
-You mean which is the worst? -Yeah.
-[he laughs]
[Martin continues laughing]
-[Martin] Yeah. -Yeah.
-It's a tough field. Um… -Yeah, no, it's hard. It's hard.
Uh, which has the most opportunity for chicanery?
I would say, um, the visual arts.
You know, or what are called the visual arts.
You know, um…
But I'm certainly, one of the few things, I'm not alone in thinking that, you know.
I think there's wide agreement on this.
It's quite a racket.
-Yeah. Yeah. -[audience laughs]
-[Fran] Do you agree? -I do agree, but the…
I keep thinking of the prices and the extraordinary… Yeah, the racket.
-That's what we hear about. The prices. -The prices.
I mean, if you go to an auction, um, out comes the Picasso, dead silence.
Once the hammer comes down on the price, applause.
Okay? So we live in a world where they applaud the price but not the Picasso.
I rest my case.
[laughter and applause]
Okay? So, I mean…
They applaud the price. They should applaud when the Picasso comes out.
-I know. -"Isn't he good at painting?"
[Martin laughs]
Not, "Aren't you good at buying?"
[uptempo jazz music]
Zzzap!
[Fran] I used to go often to jazz clubs when I was younger,
when there were a lot of great living jazz musicians.
[Spike] Right.
I probably saw every great jazz musician alive during my lifetime.
-Numerous times. -Who was your favorite?
-Mingus, I would say. -Charlie Mingus?
I know him quite well.
[man] What's the gun for?
Someone robbed me. They broke in and took everything when I moved in the first day.
[man] Who robbed you?
Hmm.
Friends or enemies? I have no idea.
It had to be a friend, because they went right to my jewel box.
Had to be someone who knew me. Someone, not a friend, but someone close.
[Fran] He once shot himself in the foot,
because his wife, who at that time was his girlfriend, broke up with him.
So he shot himself in the foot and then walked, bleeding,
up the stairs of her apartment to show what she'd done to him.
He, like, deliberately shot himself in the foot.
[gunshot]
I was friends with Charles, because his wife, um, owned the magazine.
Newspaper. They used to call them underground newspapers.
Owned the first, um, magazine, in a way,
it was a quarter fold newspaper, that I worked for when I was, like, 19.
She owned it. Um, and that's how I knew him.
[Charles] Two, three, four.
-[jazz music plays] -[applause]
[Fran] I mean, he was very volatile. Like really volatile.
He once got mad at me and in the middle of a set at the Vanguard,
when he saw me, jumped off the bandstand, ran up the stairs…
And he was fat. He was not, like, an athletic guy.
And, you know, I thought he was old. He was probably in his late forties.
But I was a young kid. I was, like, 19. But not a good runner.
And he, like, ran after me, yelling at me, all the way down Seventh Avenue,
'till almost we got to Canal Street,
and then finally I could not run anymore, and I, like, fell into the street.
And then he, by the way, he's supposed to be playing.
The rest of the band is on the bandstand at the Vanguard,
which is now, like, 20 blocks uptown.
And I fell down like this, and he fell down,
and then he sat down, and he looked at me. He goes, "Wanna go eat?"
So I pointed out to him,
"Well, you're in the middle of a set, and people went to see you."
Um, he was such a famous eater that to walk through Chinatown with Charles
was to have chefs come out of basements applauding him.
-[Martin laughs] -This endeared him to my mother.
He came to my parents' house for Thanksgiving.
-[Spike] Yeah? -Yes.
My mother loved him. He was such a good eater.
[laughter]
She said, "That Charles, he's such a good eater.
Not only did he eat so many portions, but afterward,
he came in the kitchen and finished the turkey."
[laughter]
Most people see him as a musical genius. My mother saw him as a great eater.
-I had breakfast once with Duke Ellington. -Yes?
-With Charles, and-- -Where was this at?
Reuben's, which used to be an all-night restaurant,
which used to be on 58th and Fifth Avenue.
And Duke Ellington is the only person I ever saw Charles Mingus defer to.
Charles, when he was a young guy, played in Duke Ellington's band, and was fired.
And Charles was a very, um, arrogant person.
Um, he really didn't want people to talk to him.
Um, he had a lot of contempt for most people.
Um, and the only person I ever saw him defer to was Duke Ellington.
But he was so deferential to Duke Ellington
that he hardly would look at him.
And Duke Ellington was yelling at him, "Charles!"
"Oh, sorry, Duke." It was like a completely different person.
Like, "What happened to Charles?" You know?
So everyone has someone like that in their lives,
no matter how, you know, arrogant they may be or how great they may be.
I mean Charles, in my opinion, was a great artist,
but in Charles's opinion, Duke Ellington, more important.
[gentle jazz music]
[man] If you admire somebody's work, you absorb a certain amount of it.
It's getting to the point now where the modern, contemporary composer
and the guy who's supposed to be a, a modern jazz composer,
uh, they all come out of the same conservatories.
Exactly.
And, uh, it's very difficult to find a place to draw the line.
Well, you were certainly one of the pioneers in that.
Oh yeah, but I didn't come out of a conservatory.
No, but you were one of the first people who wrote so-called symphonic jazz.
I had a conservatory in the Capitol Theater.
That's right. Exactly.
Listen to the symphony before the picture.
Maybe that's really the difference between us.
That you wrote symphonic jazz, and I wrote jazz symphonies.
[laughter]
-Love you, man. -Something like that.
["La Dolce Vita (Finale)" plays]
[Fran] Did you see my Calder cuff links?
These were lent to me by Sandy Rower, who is the grandson of Alexander Calder,
who made these with his hands.
Not designed a line of cuff links like artists do now. He made them.
He must have made them for himself, Calder, you know? I mean…
He did not make them for Fran. Um, he made a lot of jewelry.
There was a show at the Met just of Calder's jewelry
and it was fantastic.
There's a very wonderful biography of Calder.
I don't know. His sister, when he was, like, seven years old
gave him a pair of pliers for Christmas, and he writes about this.
"This is the greatest Christmas of my life. I got a pair of pliers!"
-[Martin] That's great. -And he used them to make these.
And I think these may have been made with the same pair of pliers.
-[Martin] That's amazing. -I mean, I just think they're spectacular.