Art is Bitten by Shark

I read the news today, oh boy… On the cover of the USA Today insert in my newspaper was a curious article with the headline: Record sums for artwork – Most expensive paintings known to be sold (in millions). In a gold frame with a little price tag, read the following:

“Nafea faa Ipoipo (will you marry me) Paul Gauguin $300 Sold: 2015

“The Card Players” Paul Cezanne $250 Sold: 2011

“Le Reve (the dream) Pablo Picasso $150 Sold: 2013

Two thoughts sprang to mind. Firstly, how do you justify these prices? And secondly, I need to change my name to Paul. There’s a pattern here, the top 3 most expensive paintings were all painted by men named Paul (Pablo is Spanish for Paul). Being named Paul must be the secret to getting the big bucks. Now, how can these prices be explained? And, what are the forces surrounding the paying of enormous sums for art today?

Let’s forget about the prices for Impressionists paintings for this post. Instead, let’s focus on contemporary art? Forgive me, but I am going to pick on British artist Damien Hirst to symbolize a sizable segment of the art world today. Damien Hirst’s career started with the now famous shark immersed in formaldehyde. It was the result of a £50,000 commission from Charles Saatchi in which Hirst was allowed to do what he wanted. Hirst simply hired people to catch the shark and put it in the fabricated tank. Later, there was a bit of a setback when a fin fell off, the liquid went murky and the shark turned green and wrinkled. No problem. Saatchi had his curators skin it, get rid of the decomposing body and stretch the skin over a fiberglass mold. Then he sold it to an American collector for around $12 million. 

Damien Hirst, The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, 1991

Is this folly or am I unable to see great art that is worth millions? A clue to answering this vexing question might be found in the 1837 short tale by Hans Christian Andersen – The Emperor’s New Clothes. Take a minute and read it, you won't be disappointed.

http://www.andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/TheEmperorsNewClothes_e.html

This short story is both wonderful and brilliant! It is about status, symbolism, and their connection to art (fine clothes in this case); the ego and desire; genius con-men; belief in magic (superstition); self doubt and the preservation of power; the insight of the pure of heart; and the inability to change in the face of facts. As you know, in the story the Emperor is obsessed with clothes and wants nothing better than to show them off at every opportunity. It might be said that clothing became his identity and he used it to symbolize good taste, wealth and power. This made him venerable. One day two swindlers in the guise of weavers came to town. “…they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.” Perfect! The Emperor paid them an obscene amount of money and the “weavers” went to work spinning air. (Isn't spin art sort of the same thing?)

Damien Hirst with one of his spin paintings. Before I was aware of Hirst's spin art, I used to use carnival spin art as an illustration of how easy it is to get seduced just by technique rather than balancing it with spirit, content and form. 

No doubt the spin technique can produce beautiful visual results but its value should be questioned. 

Back to the story. Curious as to the weaver’s progress but fearing his own exposure the Emperor thought, “I'll send my honest old minister to the weavers,… He'll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he's a sensible man and no one does his duty better.” When the most trustworthy and truthful minister saw nothing he was filled with self doubt and despair but responded, “Oh, it's beautiful -it's enchanting… Such a pattern, what colors!" The minister sounds like he could sell art. 

Are there swindlers in the art world selling works at prices not commensurate to there true value? Many people feel there are. If we follow the story we find that the "weavers" needed unwitting accomplices to work their deception. Trustworthy ministers went along with the scam, albeit without evil intent. In the art world, are there counterparts? Are some contemporary artists and powerful gallery owners the new weavers come to town? Do museums, art schools, magazines, and even some critics react like the Emperor’s ministers? In today’s crazy art environment, are art institutions like accomplices may be full of self doubt – fearful that they are unable to recognize an important new art form when it comes along. Does their acceptance of almost any new thing reflect today's art culture? More important, are they influenced by powerful art dealers?

It was Charles Saatchi, the gallery owner, who funded Damien Hirst’s shark project and help make his career. The relationship began after he saw Hirst's A Thousand Years, consisting of a large glass case containing maggots and flies feeding on a rotting cow's head. Hirst had recently graduated from school and said, “I can’t wait to get into a position to make really bad art and get away with it. At the moment if I did certain things people would look at it, consider it and then say 'f off'. But after a while you can get away with things.” God help me! What kind of art is founded on this point of view? It is akin to the thief who shamelessly states, "there's nothing wrong with stealing, it's only wrong if you get caught." Intention and sincerity are everything in both art and life. Shouldn't we resist the temptation to devalue noble attributes when establishing the criteria for quality art?

In the story, it is assumed that everyone in the kingdom was immersed in a culture of superstition, for everyone at court whole-heartedly believed in the power of the magical fabric. Today, the world’s art culture seems to be closely related to the one in the story. It’s a culture where art quality is indefinable and where poison and nourishment have become indistinguishable. It’s a world where anything can be art, anyone can be an artist, and where artists are convinced they must out do one another by creating the most shocking art imaginable in order to succeed (To this end in 2003, Chinese artist Zhu Yu eats a stillborn baby as his art exhibition). The importance of artwork today seems to be measured by who can pay the most for it. The high price comes with an added benefit, because the more you pay, the more powerful the art’s status symbol becomes. Can there be any other explanation why a museum in Qatar just paid $300,000,000 for a Paul Gauguin?

Paul Gauguin, “Nafea faa Ipoipo (will you marry me) $300 million, 2015

Side note: Damien Hirst eventually bites the hand that fed him by saying of his patron, “I'm not Charles Saatchi's barrel-organ monkey ... He only recognizes art with his wallet ... he believes he can affect art values with buying power, and he still believes he can do it.” Isn’t Hirst revealing art world’s dirty secret as well as how he became the wealthiest living artist in the UK (worth £215 million in 2010). Who was it that set these prices that made him so rich? Who bought or displayed his "artwork?” Not all museums have embraced his work – one venue rejected his art for fear they would have to clean the vomit off the floor.

Is the artwork of today's shock artists knit to art institutions the equivalent of the Emperor’s new clothes? Some critics think so and even say so. I am inclined to agree to a degree. Do you think that the collectors and museums that bought Damien Hirst’s collection of dead animals in glass cases, spin art, and dots might feel naked and ashamed in the future? I don’t think so. Remember the end of Andersen’s story.

After the pure hearted child blurts out the truth and everyone realizes it, an amazing thing happens. “The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all.” 

It amazes me that we have the capacity to lie to ourselves and can hold contradictory thoughts in our mind without feeling troubled by them. One study showed that only 1 in 50 people change their minds when presented with facts that disprove their beliefs. In the end, the Emperor and his attendants went forward “more proudly than ever” as if the truth of his nakedness and the folly of being conned had never been revealed. 

Our egos can be extremely strong when it comes to self-image. I am sorry, but I can’t help using Damien Hirst again to illustrate this point. By 2009 Hirst was now both rich and famous. He understood the art market. For some reason he actually decides to paint with his own hand. He selects The Wallace Collection, a museum renowned for its collection of old masters and 18^th century French furniture, as the venue to exhibit his paintings. He explains, “…My new work somehow feels like they belong here with other works and objects from other times.” Success can blur your view of yourself and your abilities. In his statement, Hirst is linking himself and his work with Rembrandt, Rubens, Titian, Hals and French master craftsmen! This can mean one or two things. First, it's a manifestation delusional hubris brought upon by fame and wealth. Comparable statements have been made by other famous artists – Jeff Koons and Walter Keane, are examples. In Keane’s case he continued to compare himself with the old masters after it was proven he couldn’t paint.

The second possibility could be that it is a deliberate marketing strategy referred to as “rub-off.” This is used when you conflate quality and status to your product by association. It also helps create products as status symbols. A recent Cadillac Escalade ad ‘Evolution of Indulgence’ uses this device wonderfully.

It portrays the conveyance of the rich and powerful throughout history – the pharaoh, an Indian raja, a 18^th century monarch and culminates with you in a Escalade. The message is: own a Cadillac, and you’ll ride like a king and have the status of the powerful! Hirst is basically doing the same thing by exhibiting his painting where the masters once hung. Quality by association. Good strategy but it quite didn’t work. The problem was that almost every art critic seemed to disapprove of his paintings. One said, “To try to be accurate: Hirst, as a painter, is at about the level of a not-very-promising, first-year art student.” However, you have to give Hirst credit for trying. And, I bet the poor reviews didn't stop the wealthy from getting out their check books.

Hirst at his exhibit at the Wallace Collection venue

In the end, Hirst got his personal wish: “to make really bad art and get away with it.” Are you O.K. with that? Or do you think we should seek a higher standard, where it's not about the artist but the art. Art that elevates the spirits of the viewer through the power of its content and not its cost.

Painting and Science Get Hitched

If you read my last post, you’ll see that my thinking about abstraction led me on a historical journey that explored influential societal forces of the past. This morning I awoke realizing that in trying to deal with this complex subject, I forgot an important civilization-advancing phenomenon of the 19^th century. Namely, the illumination of the mind of man beginning around 1844 with the accompanying explosion of innovation. The long history of flat scientific achievement prior to this date can be expressed by a unverifiable story: In 1844, it was believed by some that everything that could be invented had been! One far-sighted Senator proposed that the patient office was no longer necessary and should be abolished. You can be sure that Thomas Edison wouldn't have liked his idea.

So what does the rise of invention have to do with painting? First, plein air painting as we know it would not have existed without an American painter by the name of John Goffe Rand. This had nothing to do with the influence of his art (you never heard of him, right) but it had everything to do with his invention. He invented the resealable paint tube in 1841/1844. Before his tin tube, artists kept their paint in tied-up pig bladders for both portability and to keep the paint from drying. They’ll prick a little hole in the bladder hoping it would not burst! Imagine painting without John Rand's invention! I'm thinking of the time when Monet asked John Singer Sargent to go out painting with him. When Sargent replied that he didn't bring his paints, Monet would have responded, "don't worry, I'll just fill up a few more pig bladders."

As we all know, Impressionism was devoted to “direct painting.” Monet claimed that he never had a studio. Of course, why would he need one if you always painted outside and paint was conveniently portable? Auguste Renoir insightfully pronounced, “Without tubes of paint, there would have been no Impressionism.” I find it interesting that at first the French painters complained about the increase in the cost of paint in a tube (were they poor or just had trouble with the new?).

The second phenomenon effecting painters during this period might be characterized by the slogan “better living through chemistry.” New pigments and better quality paint appeared just at the right time. Artists could now choose from a wide variety of new colors synthesized from cadmium, chrome, cobalt, and other elements. The introduction of cerulean blue must have delighted many a landscape painter. The new pigments produced an intensity of color never seen before. Plus, paint became more light-stable and thankfully less toxic. Although van Gogh could not be convinced to switch over to the new Viridian from his favorite Paris Green (also used as rat poison). Another technological advancement was to have a visible effect on the new painting. The improved quality and consistency of the paint made it possible for brushstrokes to be both thicker and to leave traces of the brush bristles. The result were surfaces that one can get lost in.

Now, if they can make a paint tube that the cap won’t get stuck or the threads stripped – I’ll be happy. Luckily, most of the paint I use (encaustic) comes in a form that resembles small colored hockey pucks. It’s an innovation in paint dating back 4,000 years that, by the way, didn’t require a tube.

Abstract Painting

Why am I an abstract painter? It is not for acceptance or money. Abstract painting is as difficult to sell as nudes and harder to create. The vast majority of the population doesn’t relate to it on a meaningful level. If you have the ability to paint in almost any style (which I believe I can), why choose abstract?

Let’s first explore why abstraction exists in the first place. Artists never contemplated such a form of painting until recently. And, painting as we know it started as far back as 39,000 BC! What brought this new art form into existence and why do I connect with it? To answer the first part of this question we need to explore history and the forces that shape it. I believe the world changed in unimaginable ways in the mid-19^th century. The world’s equilibrium had been upset and a process of the planet’s transformation initiated. Art like any other aspect of civilization is an element of that transformation. What were some of the forces that lead to new art? Two realities that may have had a profound influence on the “new” was the end of patronage and the beginning of a new state of mind about art and the phenomenal world, especially in the West.

Patronage was the engine of art since before the Pharaohs. Patronage was the exclusive realm of the powerful – royalty, religious leaders, aristocrats and the wealthy. It served to establish their status in society, promote political aims, communicate ideology or theology, and incidentally support artists, not to mention make their artistic careers. When we think about patronage in art most of us recall the Renaissance and the Medici family or Pope Julius II. However, patronage during the Counter-Reformation demonstrates the control of art’s subject matter in a more interesting way. The Reformation and the Counter-Reformation had different expressions depending on where you were in Europe. (I know this is veering off subject, hang in there) Two of the great artists of this period were Caravaggio in the South and Rubens in the North. Both were effected by the Council of Trent in 1563 – the Catholic Church needed to strategize responses to those pesky Protestants. It now concluded that sex was bad, and intimated appropriate standards for art. For example, Michelangelo was told by the Pope to put clothes on his subjects, he ignored him. “The Denial of Peter,” one of Caravaggio last works, which now hangs in the Metropolitan in NYC is worth contemplating.

Caravaggio, The Denial of Peter

This subject was rarely seen before the commission from Cardinal Paolo. Why? Because it was a visual reaction to the Protestant attack on the sacrament of Penance and Confession. Caravaggio had no choice in what to paint just how to paint it. And, his painting style was a breakthrough innovation. In the North, Rubens was making a fortune painting in a very different style. This was due to the patronage of the wealthy Protestant privileged class (they liked those giant canvases of big nudes and landscapes hanging in their estates).

Rubens, Pythagoras Advocating Vegetarianism. 

Frans Snyders was contracted to paint the still life section.

When Catholic Spain took over the south of Belgium and exiled the Protestants to the North, they found that the occupied churches needed the new Catholic art (more crucifixions). And, Rubens was the guy they picked to do it. Unlike Caravaggio, everyone loved Rubens. He had friends everywhere, even in Spanish court and besides his wife was Spanish! No wonder he need to created a “workshop!” He leveraged patronage into big business, employing many apprentices and students. He even hired sub-contractors that specialized in painting animals, etc. Unfortunately, much of Rubens religious work was destroyed during the bombing of Europe. When it came to subject matter money still called the tune. Generally speaking, this reality would not change until the 19^th and opening of the 20^th centuries. This is not to say that artists wouldn't paint unless they were paid. Rembrandt painted over 90 portraits of himself from 1620 -1669. However, I don't imagine he created them believing that there was a pent-up demand for his likeness among the wealthy.

Rubens, The Raising of the Cross

What happened that ended the patronage system? One factor was the seismic shift in power and the growth of the middle class. The powerful in Europe (many related to one another) ignoring the disparities in the distribution wealth and self satisfied within their royal estates could not detect the winds of change blowing – a unforeseen storm that would topple them all. Monarchies vanished almost overnight in Europe. Beginning with Napoleon III in 1870 in France and ending with Germany 1918, almost all the royals of Europe were dethroned. And, their pattern of supporting the arts disappeared with them. No longer were artists told what to paint, nor did they need to pander to the powerful or to the fashions of the times. In France, the Salon and Couture ended with the loss of sponsorship of the monarchy. The age old practice of patronage was supplanted by the marketplace. The wealthy were still significant players as they always were but now more as consumers than clients. Artists no longer were held captive to a patron’s dictates. The chains slackened and they were freer to express themselves in ways never imagined before. In France, the new painting of the Impressionists marked one of the first signs of power being transferred to the people.

Let’s take a closer look at the effects of these “winds of change” during the period of the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. Artists could not help be influenced by the tempests battering both the social, scientific and religious foundations of thought. The former Newtonian view of the world (as a clockwork) is assailed by the implications of quantum mechanics and theories of relativity. The birth of psychology and the exploration of the unconscious mind will have a profound impact on the art to come. The seeds of Individualism are germinated. Long held beliefs are being questioned. Inherited religious orthodoxies are being replaced by a virulent form of secularism calling into doubt the nature of spiritual realities and the authority of moral values.

The false confidence produced by the longest period of peace in Europe (1871-1914) suddenly turns into horrifying despair with the outbreak of WWI. The social/political environment of the times will give rise to an extreme revolution in artistic expression and philosophy. Namely, Dada and Surrealism (one of the parents of abstract art). The devaluation of rational thought (believed to have caused the war) and the belief in the supremacy of the emotional/unconscious world sets the foundation for an anti-establishment movement centered in Paris. This group of artists no longer responds to the outward beauty of nature but turns inwardly to a mysterious invisible reality seeking new truth. Freud’s theories of free association, dream analysis, and automatism resonate in the Surrealist’s Manifesto. In 1921, Carl Jung defines abstraction as four elements: Sensation (Aesthetic), Intuition (Symbolic), Feeling, and Thinking. The conceptual framework for viewing reality was being rebuilt in ways that challenged traditional structures.

The definition of art is not only challenged, it’s assassinated. In 1917, Marcel Duchamp proves that art can be anything. Under the name of R. Mutt, he submits a readymade urinal to the Society of Independent Artists exhibit calling it “Fountain” (they reject it, insisting it is not art. In 2004, it is deemed the most influential artwork of the 20^th century).

Marcel Duchamp, Fountain, 1917

Wassily Kandinsky (another parent of abstract art) makes a significant contribution by counter balancing the negativity of the Surrealist philosophy. In 1910, Kandinsky returns home at sunset from a day of plein air painting. He is struck as he enters his studio by an “indescribably beautiful painting, all irradiated by an interior light.” He recalls, only to be able to distinguish “forms and colors and no meaning.” To his amazement he realizes that it is one of his own painting, turned on its side! New insights and dynamics of art were born at that moment. Kandinsky responds to his age of horrific war, the “unconscious mind” and “scientific relativity” not my embracing absurdity, rejecting society’s institutions, and dismissing rational thought. Instead, he translates the invisible world of the unconscious into a spiritual reality that is attracted to beauty and the sacred. In 1912, Kandinsky writes The Art of Spiritual Harmony, where he expresses, “The salvation of art and of man is a spiritual one. One does not have to paint Madonnas to be a religious painter.”

Wassily Kandinsky, Composition 7, 1913

Abstraction is now associated with mirroring higher values through the instrumentality of the artist’s soul. Misunderstood as a rejection of the beauty of nature and devoid of thought. This view of abstraction couldn't be further from the truth. It is one of the highest expressions and intuitive aspirations that an artist can aspire to. Abstraction has the ability to rise above the recognizable into a higher realm of the undefinable, like a prayer beseeching spiritual confirmation from above. Kandinsky’s view of art is, “something that appeals less to the eye and more to the soul.”

To accomplish this vision for the viewer, I believe the veil of “literalism” (not to be confused with realism) must be lifted so the heart can respond “metaphorically” to all the symbols of the created world. Color, form, line, texture of abstract art can then be perceived as gateways to the heart, if they are configured properly. From the creative side of the equation, this is a process that involves both the outer and inner powers of the individual artist and the mysterious forces that surround him. If art is the reflection of the artist’s soul, then it should not be a mirror of soiled a heart. Rather to achieve art’s highest purpose it must thrill the emotional receptors of one’s soul enabling it to recognize the signs of its Creator that shine out resplendent through artistic endeavor. Painting should be a creation that both stirs the emotions and illuminates the rational mind.

This is why I chose to paint abstractly. I do not wish to elevate one form of art over another but rather share my thoughts and trace the pathways that may have led to abstract painting.

Please refer to my previous January post “The Irascibles and Creative Principle” for the conclusion to the historical timeline of abstract art, as it found expression in America after WW2.

One of the invisible forces propelling the “winds of change” is the dawn of the Baha’i Revelation in 1844. It foretold the end of the monarchies of the world when they were at the height of their powers and predicted both world wars. I need to acknowledge Century of Light written by the Universal House of Justice for insights into the social and spiritual conditions of the period covered in this post.

New Work

I have recently completed a new painting: "Jake's Dream." The title invokes the Biblical reference of the ladder symbol. I have been incorporating ladder designs into my work for years and in this painting they appeared without much effort. The intuitive act of painting resulted in stacked brush strokes of color, like the spaces between the rungs of a ladder. I could go on, but the wise advise against doing so. I wanted to post the painting and see what you feel and think. I hope you take time to comment.

Carey Corea "Jake's Dream"

Encaustic/Mixed Media on Cradled Panel

24 x 24 x 2.25"

The "Irascibles" and Creative Principle

The last couple of days I have been thinking about the unrecorded and idiomatic conversations of a group of young painters as they sat drinking (heavily) in the Cedar Street Tavern. Of course, these conversations or impassioned arguments took place in the 1940's and 50's in Greenwich Village. This was at a time when hardly anyone paid the slightest attention to what was eventually labeled "abstract expressionism" (a label they didn't like). Sitting around the table you might find Mark Rothko, Franz Kline, Jackson Pollack, Robert Motherwell, Willem deKooning and others of the now famous New York School (a term coined by Motherwell). I tried to imagine Pollack and de Kooning going at it. What concepts were so crucial to these artists that would fight about them? And by the way, who were these guys and why did they seek each other's company at the Cedar? And what held them together and drove them apart?

The Life article was conceived after the group of artists who were labeled "the irascibles" protested the Metropolitan's "American Art Today" exhibition in the May 22, 1950 issue of The New York Times. Artists in the photo were: Willem de Kooning, Adolph Gottlieb, Ad Reinhardt, Hedda Sterne, Richard Pousette-Dart, William Baziotes, Jackson Pollock, Clyfford Still, Robert Motherwell, Bradley Walker Tomlin, Theodoros Stamos, Jimmy Ernst, Barnett Newman, James Brooks and Mark Rothko. The photo and article on the "Irascibles" was published in the Jan. 15, 1951 Issue of LIFE. 

The simple answer might be that the Cedar was the closest bar to Robert Motherwell's studio and the drinks were cheap. Motherwell is an important figure in this drama and his writings and interviews shed light on the above questions (note: he was 25 when he moved to NYC). But before I go any further, what conceptions do you have about these artists? Are they stereotypical? Were these guys all drunken antisocial pain-in-the-ass egotists? Let's take Robert Motherwell for example.

Motherwell attend Stanford, got his Ph.D. in philosophy at Harvard, and also studied at Columbia where he was encouraged to pursue painting. This guy was smart and articulate. He later was influenced by Roberto Matta and the surrealist's desire to tap into the unconscious mind for inspiration – creating a new aesthetic based on automatism "automatic drawing" or free association.

Motherwell presents the situation in the early years, "what I realized was that Americans potentially could paint like angels but that there was no creative principle around, so that everybody who liked modern art was copying it. Gorky was copying Picasso. Pollock was copying Picasso. de Kooning was copying Picasso. I mean I say this unqualifiedly. I was painting French intimate pictures or whatever. And all we needed was a creative principle, I mean something that would mobilize this capacity to paint in a creative way, and that's what Europe had that we hadn't had; we had always followed in their wake. And I thought of all the possibilities of free association—because I also had a psychoanalytic background and I understood the implications—might be the best chance to really make something entirely new which everybody agreed was the thing to do."

Here's the part that gets interesting. Motherwell speaks about the possible genesis of the New York School, "Matta wanted to start a revolution, a movement, within Surrealism. He asked me to find some other American artists that would help start a new movement. It was then that Baziotes and I went to see Pollock and de Kooning and Hofmann and Kamrowski and Busa and several other people. And if we could come with something. Peggy Guggenheim who liked us said that she would put on a show of this new business. And so I went around explaining the theory of automatism to everybody because the only way that you could have a movement was that it had some common principle. It sort of all began that way."

What was the "creative principle" that united these very diverse painters? I believe it was the recognition of a mystical spiritual reality which was they deemed valuable and accessible. So valuable that they wanted to reflect it in new ways. Now, they may have spoken about it in different terms and the form of expression it manifested was unique to the individual. My guess is that they probably didn't quite understand it but they felt it. Could it be that they were arguing about a single reality? And, their conceptual framework was fractionated or compartmentalized resulting in a conflict of how the parts fit together? They did have differing points of view! Ultimately, they knew they were all part of a new awakening – where metaphorically, paint could be endowed with meaning. The creative principle (in my mind) was that material things are symbolic of invisible realities. These realities can be felt emotionally, meditated upon, and inspire rational thought. 

Sidebar: Let's not forget a practical aspect of this togetherness – Peggy Guggenheim was going to give them a show. Money and fame can also be a powerful stimulus! Now, back to our more important theme of abstraction and meaning.

Motherwell provides us with insight in to this concept, "... it became very clear to me that what structure is the relations among the elements and that elements related are meaningful. Which is to say that abstract structures can be meaningful. And for most artists without such an intellectual background in those days they were very dubious about making abstractions just for fear that they really didn't mean anything. But I knew metaphysically that by nature they meant something, so that I never had the inhibition about. I mean where most artists of my generation are older it was a moral crisis to move from figure drawing and all the things that one had started into abstraction. But I took to it like a duck to water."

Note: there were opposing views to Motherwell's that I can't fit into this post.

So let's get back to my imaginary argument. Jackson Pollack was recounting the important abstract painters and he left de Kooning off the list. When asked why, Pollack referred to de Kooning as a "French" painter. This sounds like a derogatory comment but it may not be. It must be remembered that these guys were competitors – e.g. when hearing of Pollack's death, de Kooning said, "it's over, I'm number one." What Pollack may have meant by "French" was his way of putting down de Kooning's process. While Pollack and other abstract painters were mining the depths of their inner selves, de Kooning was abstracting from a figurative/natural source – like the French impressionists. This was a philosophical point of difference of inspiration.  This important distinction again is illustrated in a meeting between Pollack and Hans Hofmann. He asked Jackson, "do you work from nature?" Since there were no still lifes or models around and Jackson’s answer was, 'I am nature.' Indicating that his source was himself and not the natural world. This statement can easily be confused as an egotistical response. However, I see it as a process statement. Pollack and de Kooning may have been competitors but they were also compatriots. In may have been in the Cedar Tavern that Pollack confesses to de Kooning, "you know more, but I feel more."

Pollack, like Motherwell, was drawn to the invisible world of the self - both feelings and thought. In 1939, Pollock began visiting a Jungian analyst to treat his alcoholism, and his analyst encouraged him to create drawings. These would later feed his paintings, and they shaped Pollock's understanding of his pictures not only as outpourings of his own mind, but expressions of modern society. 

Well have I completely bored you? I don't know how to end this post. I can tell you that the "creative principle" is alive in my work. The possible difference between the so called New York School and myself is that I believe what generates the emotional and meaningful response is the soul's metaphorical recognition of the attributes of God in art and nature. Process doesn't matter – it's a distinction not worthy of argument.

How do you know when it's done?

A few days ago, I was having lunch with Tony (the youngest brother of my good friend Jerry Infantino). Tony was recalling the time, many years ago, when Jerry and I were art students. We both were working on abstract paintings in his backyard when his father came home. He asked me, "How do you know when it's done?" Tony got a kick out of that and it stuck in his mind all these years.

"How do you know when it's done?" is a question that deserves consideration. Some may quickly lump it into the same category as "how long did it take?" or other common art questions. However, "how do you know when it's done?" is a deeply profound question. On the surface, it is usually jokingly asked by someone unfamiliar with abstraction and whose mindset requires some form of metrics to gage completeness. For example, if painting a portrait, a likeness might signal that it is close to being finished or a pink center might indicate that your steak is done. The problem is that the abstract painter has no GPS to tell him where he is or how far he has to go. There are no signposts or reference points. He cannot look up from the canvas to see if the shadow or shape is correct. It is a realm where intuition is your guide. A uncharted wilderness of color and line, composition and configuration, of materials and texture, and of brushwork and technique.

To me the answer to "how do you know when it's done?" has to do with the process of abstract painting itself and the nature of perfection. To address this question, it requires the use of metaphor and a little patience.

The conscious or unconscious reality of emotions and thoughts is connected with everything in life including art. When art achieves a certain quality our nerves become effected and we have an emotional/intellectual response. This response can range from highly emotional (tears of joy or sadness) to the intellectual (befuddlement or insight). As a painter, my personal goal is to transport the viewer to a new world and to bring joy to the heart. To achieve this, the striving for perfection (excellence or an ideal state) is required. I must create a painting in such a way that it resonates with the world of mystery. It is like key-making without a key to copy. The creation of an original key whose surface is painstakingly configured and refined to fit into an invisible lock. A lock that opens the door to the world of the heart.

"How do you know when it's done?" When I can turn the key.

Orange, Red, Yellow

I was perusing Pinterest tonight and I came across the image I selected from a random image search to illustrate a recent post featuring Rothko's manifesto. It was Rothko's Orange, Red, Yellow, which he painted in 1961. What caught my eye was the comment under the pin: last night...sold for just under $87 million. It must have been a old post because it sold a few years ago on May 9, 2012 at Christies. It was reported that it was one of the longest bidding matches yet witnessed in a contemporary art sale (six and half minutes, wow). That Tuesday evening was a very good night for selling contemporary art. Christie's sale took in $388.5 million, a record breaking auction! By the way, the buyer's premium on the Rothko was roughly $9.2 million on top of the hammer price of $77.5 million.

The painting is obviously worth $86,882,500 million (actual price with buyer's premium). Why? Because someone was happy as a pig in paint to pay that much for it. Amazing! Do you think it was a steal or did he pay too much?

Mark Rothko, Orange, Red, Yellow

1961, Acrylic on canvas 93"x 81.25" 

Now my friend Jerry would be interested to know that the highest price paid for a contemporary painting was $160,000,000 (in May 2012 dollars). Guess who Jer? Jackson Pollack. Painted on something he must have picked up at the lumber yard. It was at a solo Pollack show at the Betty Parsons gallery in January 1949 that Alfonso Ossorio decided to purchase the painting. He paid $1,500. There are some who believe that the artist should participate in the appreciated value of their work each time it is resold. The auction house tacks on 15% but the artist gets nothing. But wonder if the painting is sold at a loss, does it work both ways? What do you think?

Jackson Pollack No. 5

1948, Oil on fiberboard 8'x4'