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September 1, 2006
Art? Tennis?
By Michael Kimmelman, New York Times Blog
So what is the art of tennis?
Late yesterday at the Open I bumped into the New York artist, Holly
Hughes. Many artists are obsessed with tennis. Holly, a painter, is one
of them. She spent the day scouring the grounds, dashing between
matches. She had that glazed look fans get out here in the early
rounds, the look of a glutton mid-banquet.
Tennis points, she said, are problem-solving equations for line drawings in space.
Translation: the beauty of the game is seeing, then trying to
remember, the way a ball travels around the court during a point. Its
path makes lines that arch, zig, move diagonally, straight, back and
forth. The court is like a sheet of paper, with its own lines already
drawn on it. Strategy entails mapping out and resolving combinations of
lines — patterns — just as an artist maps a drawing.
Picture Federer. He hits a sliced serve to the deuce court. The ball
makes a curving line down the middle that jogs at impact from left to
right. His opponent’s return arches toward Federer’s backhand (the line
now goes back from right to left, but differently). Roger, charging
net, volleys cross court. (left to right, again differently). Point
Federer.
The fan’s pleasure comes in redrawing the lines as a memory. Every
point, like every mark drawn on a page, is a little different. Topspin
makes a line different than slice. A smart, strategic, virtuosic player
(Federer) conceives more varied and elegant points, whose resolution,
like the resolution of a particularly complex drawing, can be
profoundly satisfying.
This is why sitting at a certain height behind either baseline is
better than sitting in the middle of the court or courtside. From the
side, the game is a jumble of movements. From higher up and behind the
baseline (where TV likes to be), the court is easier to read as a page
and the lines are clear to follow. Patterns present themselves.
Within sameness, there can be endless variety. Artists have proved
this in art over centuries. It’s the art of tennis, too — or part of
the art, because there is beauty to the sound of game and to its
passage through time. Call it the music of the sport. Which is to say
nothing of its drama, offcourt and on, or of the ballet of Federer’s
footwork….
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