A COLLECTION OF WORDS

Miami Herald, The (FL)
May 29, 1983
Author: KEVIN HALL Herald Tropic Editor

Allow me to state my credentials.

In my home I have many fine, cheap copies of wonderful art works: Degas, Picasso, and so on. I even have one of those woven medieval unicorn things from American Express. I used to have an Andrew Wyeth print until something terrible -- I don't know what it was -- came along and simply broke it all up late one night.

Okay?

So right now let's talk Jackson Pollock, whose work is sometimes awfully puzzling to me because it looks at first glance like a multi-colored ball of yarn after the mindless cat got at it. Yet Jackson Pollock's stuff is revered just as often as it is renounced in bafflement. Some people, such as the art collectors described in our cover story, seem to have an instinct for understanding these puzzles.

I don't. I seem to have to think these things through. You too?

To grapple with Jackson Pollock, I think you first have to understand particle physics.

This is not so hard. Particle physics is the science that shoots electrons through long one-storeyed buildings filled with gas.

See, electrons are invisible. But when you shoot 'em through this gas, the gas sort of gets bruised and you can see by the bruises where the electron went. You can never really tell where the electron is, but you can easily see by its traces where it was.

Same with Jackson Pollock. I have no idea where he's gone off to. But I can tell by his paintings where he was.

And that seems to be an important part of what he wants me to know.

Pollock made his art by pouring and splashing and spattering bucketsful of paint aginst a huge canvas; he would hop up and down, and jump in and out and all around, as though doing some weird dance, wielding buckets or paint-dripping sticks with great swinging arm movements.

Like the invisible electron's bruised gas, the painting traces just where he'd been. You could see, by the traces, the action of the painter. The action. And it was a sort of dance. With a painter's purposes.

You say a monkey could do this? Yeah, but a monkey would probably have put brown or something where Jackson put yellow and it would look stupid and that's why Jackson's an artist and the other guy's a monkey.

His dance has a painter's purpose.

It might help at this point to bring in a renowned art critic to place his stamp of approval on what I'm saying. Kenneth Clark would be good. You know him, one of the world's great judgers of art, the guy who did the famous mini-series on PBS, modestly titled, Civilisation.

I have a good Kenneth Clark quote around here somewhere. It was right here in his autobiography... ah, yes:

"The odd thing is how many people have accepted my judgements. My whole life might be described as one long, harmless confidence trick."

Egads.

Oh, here we are: " ... a response to works of art is partly physical." That's the one I wanted.

It's so damn hard to make persuasive sense when you try to take one art form, like painting or music, and translate it through another art, like writing.

People like me, we probably shouldn't try.

I should just enjoy, just dance on down to the museum with the music in my head, march right up to Jackson Pollock, and let it all out:

Just one more thing before you dash of to the museum, ready now for anything, even Jackson Pollock, ready to show your appreciation of fine art. You'll need to memorize the following (don't worry if you can't carry a tune; you can't paint, either):

You put your right hand in/ you pull your right hand out/ you put your right hand in and you shake it all about/ you do the hokie-pokie and you turn yourself around/ that's what it's all about.

Memo: FROM THE EDITOR
Edition: FINAL
Section: TROPIC MAG
Page: 3
Copyright (c) 1983 The Miami Herald