Pollock and the Problem of Reproductions

I was asked to comment on Jackson Pollock, a painter that I find myself admiring more and more these days. I started to write something, but realized that a big problem that I was having was that I have not seen much of his work in a long time. SFMOMA has a very interesting painting called Guardians of the Spirit, which is worth looking at, but the stuff that I really want to delve into are the "drip" paintings, which are the ones that get most people to scratch their heads.

There are two problems with discussing Pollock: first, it is essential to discuss Pollock and not Clement Greenberg, who fundamentally misunderstood Abstract Expressionism in general and Pollock in particular. Greenberg is fun to read, but maddening as well, and he has far too much of a share in the discussion of this period. For those who believe in progress in painting, there is not much point in discussing Pollock except in terms of where his ideas went. As I have written in the past, the idea is not the crux of the matter, rather it is the painting itself.

A pair of farmers with dour expressions in front of a barn. The be-spectacled man holds a pitchfork.

Not really fodder for discussion, unless we are going to wallow in Jungian symbolism, which we don't allow on this blog.

Maybe we can take it a step beyond that and discuss composition, color, texture, etc., but then we are into ideas that transcend what most people think of when we talk about the "idea" behind a painting. A good painting cannot be reduced to an idea. American Gothic is not a great painting because of what it is "about." The same subject could have made a wretched work that never etched itself into the imagination if it were painted by a lesser painter (or even a greater painter on a bad day).

Likewise, if we were to take Greenberg's notions to their logical conclusion, American Gothic is all about illusion of depth (it must be if flatness is the central idea to Pollock's drip paintings). Of course it isn't, any more than Rembrandt was primarily concerned with depth.

Flatness is one of those unfortunate buzz words that was gushed about, but rarely looked at critically, because if you spend some time in front of one of
Pollock's dripped masterpieces, you will realize that flatness is not even what is going on there. Pollock created an amazing space without the tools of perspective. Like Marden, Pollock did this by using the white (and subtle hues) between the drips, in a sort of exploded aerial perspective. There were holes all over that picture plane, and that is what makes the pieces so delicious. Our eye is drawn in and thrown forward in a strange pictorial space that rapidly moves between the surface, deep space and shallow space. Pollock has achieved the effect on eyes willing to take the time to see that the Italian Futurists only dreamed of: of radical motion, the central defining experience of the modern age.

Of course this is part of the fun: if you take a television-conditioned quick view of one of these canvases, you miss it. In order to get the excitement you have to have the patience of someone used to contemplation, of careful study. I daresay that the one who can get the most out of one of these paintings is someone who is well-schooled in classical drawing.

We can get to spectacular wildflower blooms in Death Valley only because of the speed of the motor car, but once we are there, we have to get out of the motorcar to see the richness of the flowers beneath the dessert sunflower, which looks like mustard to the eye whizzing past at 60mph.

So it is with Pollock. To get this uniquely modern experience of the world, we have to do so with eyes capable of pre-modern contemplation, and that is difficult.

But this is all I am going to say on the matter for now, due to the second problem, which is that Pollock's work depend on directness. You really have to see the thing (and to spend some time in front of it) to delve into its mysteries and revelations. Reproductions without the reflections and hints of shadow created by texture, and without the large scale, simply do not do it.

Now, it is perfectly fair to complain that a work that only works in large scale is somewhat deficient. I would argue that ALL works lose something by being reduced or enlarged, and I would argue that it is still possible to discuss Pollock only after seeing reproductions, but that it is difficult. The same is true of Michaelangelo, of Caravaggio, of Rubens, of just about any painter who relied on large scale to impart some of the drama of the painting. We can discuss them, but it is a far too abstract thing to talk about the Sistine Chapel without having at least taken a short look at those walls and ceiling.

So, until I get another chance to spend some time in front of a great drip painting (and I have been itching to get to MOMA to see what I think of the changes, so I might work in a trip sooner than later, but probably not until next year), this will have to do. I simply do not have the experience of the paintings fresh enough in my head to be able to rely on small reproductions in my art books. If I had seen these within the last two years that would work, but it has been longer than that.

Meanwhile, I will have some time to look at the latest exhibit of French realists that is at the Legion of Honor, and probably in the next couple of weeks, so I will be posting my thoughts on that. If you want me to go deeper into Pollock, well, it will cost you: airfare and room in a city that has a fair number of these paintings for me and my family, to be precise. Otherwise, you will have to wait.