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abstraction
[ab-strak-shuh n]
A work of art, especially a nonrepresentational one, stressing formal relationships.
Many view Jackson Pollock as one of the genius artists of the 20th century. Others view him as a that dude that splattered paint around and called it art. I once heard a father at an art museum say to his young son. “You made better art when you spilled those finger paints”.
Sadly for a long time I counted myself among those who
just didn’t get it, even though I am an artist myself. Yet, even as I didn’t
grasp Pollock, at the same time I found myself having a fascination with
splatters of paint. An inadvertent droplet of acrylic on the ground opened a
whole new vista to my imagination. The way it was shaped, the curve of its tail
where the gravity laid it out. Why would I enjoy this? What was I getting for
it? And then suddenly I grasped something crucial about Pollock and this form
of art.
Simply put. It’s not in the splatter of paint that the art
is found. It is so much more complex than that. It is about chaos, and it is
about uniformity. For me, I often start a piece with total chaos. The random
splatters spilling across the canvas are merely a starting point for developing
something much more complex. How does one line of paint interact with another?
How does it form a whole? Layer upon layer it caresses the canvas until
suddenly, almost like magic, there is art. It is the artists’ imagination and
perspective which create art from the madness which is life. In a sense we do
this every day by ordering our lives into meaningful sense that others might
not have the ability to grasp. But we understand it and it works for our
pattern of life.
So the next time you see a Jackson Pollock, or the work of
any artist who “splatters paint”, take a moment to look at a greater
perspective of the piece. Look at the way the light plays on it. Look at how
the colors play together and merge. See if something else speaks to you.
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