It has been a long and raging arguement that the abstract expressionists of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s were very busy contemplating their own navels and trying to find the “zen” in everything they did.
I would argue that they were in fact just one very important example of the hungry sleep-drugged soul seeking a way to be heard. However, many artsists of those times, and indeed today, would flatly deny anything remotely to do with spiritual things – or worse still – religious things.
Take, for instance, one of my favourites – Mark Rothko. This tragic artist committed himself to the task of producing massive canvases with many vaguely resembling the outline of a window – especially an after image once the eye has closed. His vast expanses of colour seemed to hunt out a corner or edge in a desperate attempt to complete, or conclude, the picture. Not satisfied with that he went on to give up titling his work saying that he did not want to influence the onlooker in any way. Ironically he failed … and sadly took his own life. For me his works speak of wonderful tantilizing clues visually demonstrating the...
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