Thursday, November 11, 2010

On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings

Jackson Pollock, One (Number 31, 1950), 1950. Oil and enamel paint on canvas, 8' 10" x 17' 5 5/8" (MoMA)
By Charles Kessler

Sometimes preconceptions can really screw you up. That’s what happened to me with Jackson Pollock’s classic drip paintings of the 1950’s.

I always knew these were “all over” paintings. That is, they treated the entire surface of the painting in a relatively uniform manner with no obvious differentiation between the top, bottom, or center, and therefore with no dominant point of interest. Of course, I didn’t think they were truly “all over” the way Stella’s black paintings or Agnes Martin’s paintings are, or the Pattern Painters, but I thought they came pretty close.

And I never believed Pollock’s classic drip paintings were “all over” in the sense that they seemed to be a slice of a larger “all over” universe that continues indefinitely in all directions. On the contrary, like Monet’s Water Lillies, Pollock’s classic drip paintings always have a border of unpainted canvas around the outside edges, and, as a result, they always struck me as self-contained worlds — worlds fully contained within the rectangle of the painting.*

More important in this respect, the canvas is transformed into a backboard of sorts, and the drips appear to be moving in a space IN FRONT OF the canvas/backboard, i.e. in our space. (See my post Les Demoiselles d'Avignon). Pollock reinforces this illusion in the case of Number 1A, 1948 by placing hand prints around the top right edge (see photo below), affirming the physicality of the canvas and, almost literally, pushing everything forward. 
Jackson Pollock. Number 1A, 1948.1948. Oil and enamel paint on canvas, 68" x 8' 8" (MoMA)
Detail upper right: Number 1A, 1948, showing hand prints.
This I already knew, but to the extent I bought into the notion that this work was “all over,” I saw them as monotonous, decorative and lacking the pictorial drama of his older work like Guardians of the Secret, 1943, or his later work like Easter and the Totem, 1953. 

I was determined to find out what people I respect saw in them, so last week, and again yesterday, I went to the Modern's Ab Ex New York show during early viewing hours for members, and had the show pretty much to myself for the entire time. I stood in front of Pollock’s classic drip paintings and looked at them with soft eyes, allowing the drips of paint to dart around in their illusionary space. Sometimes I focused on one color for a while, and other times I experienced the different speeds and rhythms of the lines.

Eventually I became aware that these paintings in fact do NOT repeat the same basic riffs and patterns evenly throughout the surface of the painting. The surface isn’t uniform at all, instead there’s an energetic and dramatic composition  — one that isn’t “all over.” Patterns formed —  one side of the painting might have more vertical lines, other areas more curved ones. Sometimes the curved lines would consolidate and form volumes with some volumes falling back into space (but the space almost always stayed in front of the canvas) and others (usually the lighter ones) advancing.  
Jackson Pollock. Number 1A, 1948 marked in green to show the dominant compositional elements.
In the case of Number 1A, 1948, for example, the black drips on the left coalesce to form a prominent vertical element, very similar to what Pollock did in his Guardians of the Secret, 1943, and Easter and the Totem, 1953 (see photos above). And like those two paintings, the central area is significantly lighter and recedes in space (except for two conspicuous round volumes that advance significantly). If it weren’t for the hand prints pushing everything out, this space would probably seem to recede well into the canvas. Also like Easter and the Totem, the bottom right side bulges out diagonally, slanting from left to right.

A similar composition can be found in Pollock’s famously “all over” painting, One (Number 31, 1950).  It’s more difficult to see because the painting is so large (more than 17 feet wide) that you can’t take it all in, and Pollock did a good job of disguising the composition by covering it with drips. Nevertheless, here’s the way I saw it:
Jackson Pollock, One (Number 31, 1950), 1950. Oil and enamel paint on canvas, 8' 10" x 17' 5 ⅝ " (MoMA) - marked in green to show the dominant compositional elements.
Finally, there is another point that reinforces my belief that these are not "all over" paintings. Pollock was known to spend hours studying a painting as he worked on it, what he called his “get acquainted” period.  In his own words, from "My Painting" Possibilities I, New York, Winter 1947-8:
When I am in my painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing. It is only after a sort of 'get acquainted' period that I see what I have been about. I have no fear of making changes, destroying the image, etc., because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting comes out well.
If it were just a matter of evening things out by, say, putting more black somewhere, he certainly wouldn’t need to struggle to stay in contact with the painting — it wouldn’t involve much thought at all.



* BTW, this is additional proof that Pollock didn’t crop his paintings or, even worse, cut up large paintings to make several smaller ones -- a myth probably perpetuated by the movie Day Of The Painter (1960).


Charles Kessler is an artist and writer based in Jersey City

9 comments:

Kyle Gallup said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

By Kyle Gallup:
Perhaps you once saw Pollock's"all over" paintings in a generic way, experiencing them as an idea or example of what "all over" was supposed to be or how other people talked about Pollock's paintings intellectually. After reading your entry, it feels like you experienced them for yourself. By surrendering yourself(soft eyes)to them you saw them and experienced them on your own terms. To me, I was aware of Pollock's drips as drawing--multiple variations of drawing--even the hand marks were another variation--There is a kind of complete control he had when he was inside the painting and communing with the line to canvas.
By Kyle Gallup on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/12/10

Charles Kessler said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

By Charles Kessler:
I'm sorry to say you're absolutely correct. Sometimes learning what others have to say about art can help, and other times it hurts. Re: Pollock's control. I was going to write about that but the post was already pretty long. Basically I wanted to point out that he didn’t randomly fling paint around. Instead he would stare at a painting for hours, plan what he wanted to do, and execute his plan by skillfully drawing with the flowing paint. His skill can be clearly seen in Hans Namuth’s 1950 film of Pollock painting: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrVE-WQBcYQ
By Charles Kessler on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/12/10

Kyle Gallup said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

By Kyle Gallup:
After I posted my first comment on your entry, I was thinking about how hard it is to block out commonly held ideas about certain art work. "All over" painting is one of those ideas. I'm sure you are not the only person to have had some difficulty getting past all that has been said and written about Pollock's work, to experience it on your own terms. The only way I can seem to deal with this problem is by looking at particular work over and over again while checking in with myself about what I'm seeing. I try to take my time and look slowly. I'm sure you do too.
By Kyle Gallup on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/13/10

George said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

By George:
Interesting Charles. I also spent about an hour looking at the Pollocks in a nearly empty room during the preview days. You didn't mention the horizon line in Number 31 - It's colored black on the left half of the painting but white on the right half. The fact that it changes from black to white indicates Pollock's intentionality, the line isn't an accident. It's nearly straight and located roughly at arms reach (40 inches, looking down leaning in) - Curiously it divides the canvas vertically at the golden section 38% and 62% (.382 and .618) I think this is an accident (not measured) but I noticed it immediately. Viewing this division as a hint of an horizon, allows the painting to also be viewed as nature (hah!), I've always felt that the muted, coloring resembles east coast winter thickets. What's interesting about thickets is that their 'composition' can be seen as mutable in terms of the linear energy. The drawing can reorganize itself while the visual density (areas clumping See more... together) across the surface does not. BTW, the painting "Full Fathom Five" is tucked away in a corner with the label improperly located on the left forcing people to walk in front of the painting to read it :-( It is a modestly sized painting which has an amazingly optical but also physical surface, it should have had more room around it.
By George on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/17/10

Charles Kessler said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

By Charles Kessler:
George, you have a good eye. I didn't notice that horizontal line, or that it changed colors -- just like a Brice Marden. Not only does it create a subtle horizon, as you noted (although I think you make too much of the landscape reference), it changes to white just at the beginning of a lighter area that coalesces to form a bulging volume. It's as if Pollock didn't want to disrupt the illusion. This, and the things I wrote about, (and that he sometimes painted with a turkey baster), all point to Pollock's art of this period as being very much planned and controlled. I sometimes wonder if Pollock regretted the so called random or accidental look of his work, especially since, in his late work, he seemed be making a point of appearing more deliberate.
By Charles Kessler on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/17/10

George said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

By George:
I've never thought any of Pollock's work was uncontrolled. I noticed that "Full Fathom Five", one of the earlier dripped paintings, is done over a brushed underpainting like "Shimmering Substance" (1946) or "Eyes in the heat II" (~1947). So maybe he just took a whack at something which felt too tight and started dripping the paint (as well as all the other gunk on the surface) Whatever, dripped paint goes wherever you drip it, so he would have just watched the surface of the painting and drawn the image (line) with his hand in the air. It would have been like plying an old video game where there was a delay between what your hand does and what happens on the screen. It's relatively easy to link this up and control it. I also wouldn't discount the idea of landscape. Pollocks earlier paintings came out of Surrealism (all those guys in the early 40's) and so the 'recognition' of some image could have provided a subconscious organizing principle. In a gestural painting like Pollock's See more... there is a kinesthetic connection with the viewer. Neuroscientists recently discovered specialized neurons, 'mirror neurons,' which give the viewer of an action (or in this case the record of an action) an empathetic response which mimics what is seen but where the actual movement is suppressed. Simple case, one monkey eats a banana, the viewing monkey makes all the same gestures in the brain but the movement is suppressed. Another example is the shiver response you might have if you see someone trip or misstep. This is a revolutionary discovery because it indicates that our response to gestural marking is not just some formal nicety but that it can also make a real empathetic connection with the viewer. Pollock envelops us in his swirling space.
By George on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/17/10

George said...

The comments for this post were accidentally deleted, this is a recovered reproduction:

Interesting Charles. I also spent about an hour looking at the Pollocks in a nearly empty room during the preview days. You didn't mention the horizon line in Number 31 - It's colored black on the left half of the painting but white on the right half. The fact that it changes from black to white indicates Pollock's intentionality, the line isn't an accident. It's nearly straight and located roughly at arms reach (40 inches, looking down leaning in) - Curiously it divides the canvas vertically at the golden section 38% and 62% (.382 and .618) I think this is an accident (not measured) but I noticed it immediately. Viewing this division as a hint of an horizon, allows the painting to also be viewed as nature (hah!), I've always felt that the muted, coloring resembles east coast winter thickets. What's interesting about thickets is that their 'composition' can be seen as mutable in terms of the linear energy. The drawing can reorganize itself while the visual density (areas clumping See more... together) across the surface does not. BTW, the painting "Full Fathom Five" is tucked away in a corner with the label improperly located on the left forcing people to walk in front of the painting to read it :-( It is a modestly sized painting which has an amazingly optical but also physical surface, it should have had more room around it.
By George on On Pollock's Classic Drip Paintings on 11/17/10

George said...

Interesting Charles. I also spent about an hour looking at the Pollocks in a nearly empty room during the preview days. You didn't mention the horizon line in Number 31 - It's colored black on the left half of the painting but white on the right half.

The fact that it changes from black to white indicates Pollock's intentionality, the line isn't an accident. It's nearly straight and located roughly at arms reach (40 inches, looking down leaning in) - Curiously it divides the canvas vertically at the golden section 38% and 62% (.382 and .618) I think this is an accident (not measured) but I noticed it immediately.

Viewing this division as a hint of an horizon, allows the painting to also be viewed as nature (hah!), I've always felt that the muted, coloring resembles east coast winter thickets. What's interesting about thickets is that their 'composition' can be seen as mutable in terms of the linear energy. The drawing can reorganize itself while the visual density (areas clumping together) across the surface does not.

BTW, the painting "Full Fathom Five" is tucked away in a corner with the label improperly located on the left forcing people to walk in front of the painting to read it :-( It is a modestly sized painting which has an amazingly optical but also physical surface, it should have had more room around it.

George said...

I've never thought any of Pollock's work was uncontrolled. I noticed that "Full Fathom Five", one of the earlier dripped paintings, is done over a brushed underpainting like "Shimmering Substance" (1946) or "Eyes in the heat II" (~1947). So maybe he just took a whack at something which felt too tight and started dripping the paint (as well as all the other gunk on the surface)

Whatever, dripped paint goes wherever you drip it, so he would have just watched the surface of the painting and drawn the image (line) with his hand in the air. It would have been like plying an old video game where there was a delay between what your hand does and what happens on the screen. It's relatively easy to link this up and control it.

I also wouldn't discount the idea of landscape. Pollocks earlier paintings came out of Surrealism (all those guys in the early 40's) and so the 'recognition' of some image could have provided a subconscious organizing principle.

In a gestural painting like Pollock's there is a kinesthetic connection with the viewer. Neuroscientists recently discovered specialized neurons, 'mirror neurons,' which give the viewer of an action (or in this case the record of an action) an empathetic response which mimics what is seen but where the actual movement is suppressed. Simple case, one monkey eats a banana, the viewing monkey makes all the same gestures in the brain but the movement is suppressed. Another example is the shiver response you might have if you see someone trip or misstep.
This is a revolutionary discovery because it indicates that our response to gestural marking is not just some formal nicety but that it can also make a real empathetic connection with the viewer. Pollock envelops us in his swirling space.