Rothko

I’m a self-confessed Philistine, I like art galleries but I look forward to the coffee in the gallery café more. Art is like exercise to me. I don’t want to go but I feel better afterwards. I went to see the Mark Rothko exhibition at the Tate. Now, no one can doubt Rothko’s conviction. He has the ‘Suicide’ badge of honour of the great artist. No questions there.
 
“Did he mean it you think, this art?”

“Well, he killed himself.”

The Tate modern in London is a great gallery. It feels too big for itself. The turbine hall is beyond huge. It reminds me of sci-fi films where somewhere on the mother ship there’s an unfeasibly large space- just because. Anyway, the Rothko exhibition focused on his later works, most importantly on the Seagram murals, which he was commissioned to hang in the Seagram building’s restaurant in New York in the 1960s. Rothko reneged on the contract after deciding that the venue wasn’t right for the work. Rumour has it (although he never confirmed it) that he didn’t feel a restaurant was a serious enough venue for contemplation of his canvases. With this on my mind I felt slightly bemused surveying the Mark Rothko postcards, Mugs and t-shirts for sale in the Tate shop. Is buying a postcard of a work of art like buying a ringtone of a piece of music? How would Rothko feel about ‘Rothko Scarves’? Are people really thinking ‘that exhibition was so moving and life changing that I really must get my uncle Bill some Roth coasters?’ Some of Rothko’s canvases are so huge he had to paint them up a ladder, so they don’t really translate that well to a 6 by 4 inch postcard.
 ‘Hi Bill, wish you were here, Rothko Rocks!’

I feel like a charlatan in galleries. Modern art demands a lot of engagement from the viewer. It’s not like a donut. A donut says ‘eat me’. Art says ‘ if you study me intently enough and for long enough you will discover a hitherto-unseen portal into your own soul’. So I stare, and stare. I do that lopsided standing far away stare and then the shuffling slowly towards the canvas move that I’ve seen the pros do.

Unfortunately, I’m too self-conscious. I want to engage with the art but not in this busy, bustling public space. It’s also slightly distracting to hear everybody else listening to a running commentary on those little ‘let me explain Rothko’ walkmans you can get as part of the Rothko experience (along with the calendar). It would be equally distracting to announce the next song at a gig to see the crowd press button 8 to listen to a running commentary on headphones. ‘In this song Jez is explaining how the feelings of love and lust were often confused, notice the unusual rhyme scheme in the chorus’... I mean, obviously I’m not saying I’m a great artist, but seriously, the first time you watch a DVD do you have the director’s commentary on? Why are we so obsessed with demystifying everything?

The thing is, knowing about an artist like Rothko doesn’t make me enjoy their work more or less. I prefer to look at what’s in front of me and see if it makes me feel something. I just believe that the canvas should engage the eyes and (hopefully) the soul. If you’re trying to engage the ears at the same time, you’ve got a lot to think about.  Perhaps I’m a terrible multi-tasker or one of those people who says ‘I don’t know art, but I know what I like’ I’ve heard stories of people breaking down in tears in a gallery when confronted by a Rothko masterpiece. I didn’t cry. I felt strangely guilty, like an atheist in church.

I wonder if all of this blog is really to do with the fact that because I spend most of my time de-constructing and demystifying music, I want to preserve the magic in the other areas of artistic expression. I don’t want to know the techniques, the tricks, the washes and glazes, I just want to be humbled.

So, how was the Rothko exhibition? Well I liked some paintings more than others. Some had an other-worldly glow that drew you in, a luminescent sense of calm. I imagine that if you have a near death experience and you head down that mysterious out-of-body tunnel to the afterlife, Rothko may have a hand in the colour scheme.

I hope you find time in your hectic lives to go and stare at something humbling this week. It’s worthwhile. By the way, there is an audio commentary to this blog available to give you some background into the blogging process, and O.K, I admit it, I bought a Rothko pen, and the coasters. Christmas is coming. It’s good to be prepared.