Tuesday, May 18, 2010


I'm always interested in talking to people who do not make art as to their perception of people who do make art.

A lot of times, it is a completely romanticized idea of this free-spirit, floating (rather dippy) existence just filled with delight.

We who do it know that's bogus. The only time I get a floating feeling is when something that I've struggled for actually Works.

"Look, it's my misery that I have to paint this kind of painting, it's your misery that you have to love it, and the price of the misery is thirteen hundred and fifty dollars. "

- Mark Rothko, In Art/Painting

Oh, I wish!

The Phillips Collection in Washington D.C. has a room full of Rothkos.

They nearly hum on the walls. They're like chords of music, notes transformed to pigment.

If you rejoice in color, you will love just sitting in the lowered light in the center of the room, letting your eyes travel along the borders and pools of pure, delicious color.

The next time I glaze, I'm going to think of Rothko.

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