Moving as in the first time I saw a Rothko it actually brought me to tears.
You mean this?
I officially renounce all possibility of ever understanding this.
Moving as in the first time I saw a Rothko it actually brought me to tears.
Well the first thing you have to understand is that these aren't simple things Rothko built thoughtlessly. These paintings took months to construct. Every line, every "smudge" was one-hundred percent intentional. The real brilliance with Rothko is how his paintings were constructed. That red-orange you see there isn't just some red-orange paint he bought at the store. It's the product of literally hundreds of layers of paint that he mixed on the canvas culminating in that reddish-orange hue you see. The blocks and coloration are all the results of hundreds of fine-tuned layers of paint all mixing and coalescing to the finished product.
The other thing with Rothko is that he's not really an artist you can understand very well sitting behind a 21-inch computer monitor. It's kinda cliche'd to say "you'll never truly understand [x artist] until you see the work in-person" but this is never more true than it is with Rothko (and all the abstract expressionists, for that matter). Problem one with a digital viewing is that your computer screen doesn't properly convey just how absolutely massive these pieces are. That piece I showed above (Black on Maroon; on display at the Tate Modern) is 2.6m x 3.8m - that's 1.5 people wide by 2ish people high. And that's what's so moving about Rothkos - the sheer size of the canvas. The penetrating, pervasiveness of the color. Standing close to one, being enveloped by the color, and seeing the detail of the lines, every smudge, every little waver in the line, 100% planned and 100% crafted over the course of months. That's what brought me to tears the first time I saw it.
But why? What's the point of making colors in squares, no matter how finely detailed?
What's the point of depicting the Annunciation?
or Mary with child?
Or portraiture?
Or landscapes?
It seems a mark of contempt more than respect, I think, to reduce these sorts of paintings to "it's religious" or "it's pretty".
I'd cry, too. What a waste of paint and canvas.
I'd cry, too. What a waste of paint and canvas.
Yes, gussed. I gussed, you gussed, he, she or it gussed. It's a perfectly cromulent word.
Still, that's a description of what's appreciable. The actual "emotionally moving" experience is still invisible in descriptive abstractions of art. And it has to be, that's kind of the point, unless you made your description a work of art.Well the first thing you have to understand is that these aren't simple things Rothko built thoughtlessly. These paintings took months to construct. Every line, every "smudge" was one-hundred percent intentional. The real brilliance with Rothko is how his paintings were constructed. That red-orange you see there isn't just some red-orange paint he bought at the store. It's the product of literally hundreds of layers of paint that he mixed on the canvas culminating in that reddish-orange hue you see. The blocks and coloration are all the results of hundreds of fine-tuned layers of paint all mixing and coalescing to the finished product.
The other thing with Rothko is that he's not really an artist you can understand very well sitting behind a 21-inch computer monitor. It's kinda cliche'd to say "you'll never truly understand [x artist] until you see the work in-person" but this is never more true than it is with Rothko (and all the abstract expressionists, for that matter). Problem one with a digital viewing is that your computer screen doesn't properly convey just how absolutely massive these pieces are. That piece I showed above (Black on Maroon; on display at the Tate Modern) is 2.6m x 3.8m - that's 1.5 people wide by 2ish people high. And that's what's so moving about Rothkos - the sheer size of the canvas. The penetrating, pervasiveness of the color. Standing close to one, being enveloped by the color, and seeing the detail of the lines, every smudge, every little waver in the line, 100% planned and 100% crafted over the course of months. That's what brought me to tears the first time I saw it.
See, this kind of opinion is highly irritating to me, but it just goes to show the total subjectivity of art and aesthetics.
Without sarcasm, I'm glad somebody is legitimately pleased with that sort of stuff. Even if I find it unpleasant and vaguely infuriating to be exposed to. Like Elvis, or the Beatles, or Justin Bieber if we were to jump genres.