Amerikāņu profesora Džeimsa Breslina sarakstītā biogrāfija par Marku Rotko ir informatīvi apjomīgs un mākslinieciski augstvērtīgs apcerējums par pasaulē atzīto mākslinieku.
Tā unikalitāti rada autora darba apjoms, kā arī viņa ekskluzīva piekļuve Marka Rotko personīgajam arhīvam. Grāmatā Džeimss Breslins ir rūpīgi un ar pietāti izpētījis visus mākslinieka dzīves posmus, mēģinājis risināt sarežģītās personības iekšējās pasaules mīklas.
Lasītājs var gūt ieskatu arī XX gadsimta vidus Ņujorkas mākslas dzīvē. Grāmatas vizuālais materiāls – fotogrāfijas, gleznu reprodukcijas – ļauj pilnvērtīgāk ieraudzīt dažādās Marka Rotko dzīves un mākslas šķautnes.
I think the book would have been improved if it had been shorter and had fewer interpretive descriptions of Rothko paintings. These were themselves quite long. Breslin says himself at the end of the book that he was giving his own "take" [my word] on the paintings he described. And that is not why I chose to read this biography. One of the many dangers in "reading" paintings as they supposedly reveal or reflect the personality of the painter is of course that characteristics they supposedly reveal can be read "into" the painting. Here is the biographical fallacy. Rothko said that "I have imprisoned the most utter violence in every inch of their surface." Personally, I see no violence in his abstract paintings. Does Breslin see it because he expects to?
Anyway, I think the book could have focused more on Rothko's life and less on Breslin's readings of his works. The best description of Rothko in the book, I think, comes from someone else:
“’He was a man of tremendous ego and tremendous doubt,’ said Hedda Sterne, and the doubts extended to himself as well as to others.” 525
Będąc młodym czytelnikiem z zazdrością spoglądałem na amerykański rynek wydawniczy i wszechobecne tam opasłe biografie. Wydawało mi się wówczas, że w takim tomie rozmiarów encyklopedii zawiera się cała prawda o życiu danej osoby, że nie można napisać więcej ponad to, co znalazło się w takiej anglojęzycznej kobyle. Czy po książce autorstwa Jamesa Breslina inni biografowie Rothki nie będą mieli o czym pisać? Tego nie wiem. Wiem jedynie, że pewne ustalenia faktograficzne poczynione przez Breslina można było odważniej i dosadniej skomentować, a niektóre analizy pogłębić. Niestety ze stratą dla samego autora i jego dzieła nie udało mu się uniknąć autocenzury, zwłaszcza gdy chodzi o ostatnie lata artysty i rolę, jaką roszczeniowi najbliżsi odegrali w pogarszającym się stanie zdrowia psychicznego malarza. Nie mogę z powodu tej autocenzury czynić autorowi większych zarzutów, bowiem rodzina Rothki do tej pory nie zdecydowała się zdeponować lwiej części archiwaliów po zmarłym w jednej z szacownych amerykańskich instytucji i nadal trzyma nad nimi pieczę. Ktokolwiek zatem chce na poważnie pisać o życiu Marka Rothki, musi iść trzymany na krótkiej smyczy Kate Rothko – Prizel i tańczyć tak, jak zagrają mu albo jej dzieci artysty.
Autor trzyma dyscyplinę myślową, relacjonując życiorys Rothki mniej więcej do lat 50. XX wieku, kiedy artyście udaje się zyskać komercyjny sukces i jego sława zaczyna wykraczać poza wąski krąg artystycznej bohemy. Od tego momentu bowiem James Breslin zaczyna bić się z myślami, czy w dalszym ciągu chce pisać biografię malarza, czy też pisać o jego sztuce. Odautorskie interpretacje poszczególnych dzieł ciągną się niemiłosiernie przez długie ustępy, nie wnosząc nic – ani nowego ani pożytecznego – do zasadniczego korpusu książki, jakim jest życiorys artysty. Sztuka Rothki nie miała bowiem charakteru konfesyjnego, w odróżnieniu np. od malarstwa Fridy Kahlo. Gdyby zatem krytyczny amerykański redaktor zdecydował się wyciąć wszystkie te fragmenty, opasłe tomiszcze zyskałoby rozsądne rozmiary i byłoby faktycznie biografią z prawdziwego zdarzenia.
Analizując sztukę Rothki, autorowi niestety zdarza się pisać pod tezę. Stopniowa zmiana palety na bardziej mroczną czy zimną jest w ocenie Breslina dowodem na pogłębiającą się depresję, której wynikiem była samobójcza śmierć malarza. Sęk w tym, że tego rodzaju argument wspiera wyłącznie znany szczegół z życia artysty, jakim były jego problemy ze zdrowiem psychicznym. Skoro Rothko cierpiał na depresję, to musiał to wyrazić w swojej sztuce i zmiana kolorystyki jego obrazów pod tą tezę najbardziej pasuje. Na tej samej podstawie można jednak postawić dowolną tezę. Wiadomo, że w młodości malarz był uczniem chederu i wadził się ze swoją wiarą przez większość swojego życia. Wystarczy więc ten szczegół biograficzny połączyć z obrazami Rothki, w których dominuje orcha, żółć, oranż i czerwień pod tezę o głęboko teozoficznym, wanitatywnym wydźwięku jego sztuki jako przesiąkniętej lękiem przed przemijaniem i śmiercią, wyrażającym się w palecie barw przywodzącej na myśl piekielne ognie…
O ile jako czytelnik muszę wybaczyć autorowi autocenzurę ze względów wymienionych na wstępie, o tyle czynienie z biografii Rothki czegoś w rodzaju hagiografii jest już rzeczą trudno wybaczalną. Książka Breslina wpisuje się w nurt prac podkreślających nonkonformistyczną, niezależną postawę artystyczną malarza. W tym duchu biografista opisuje rezygnację Rothki z udekorowania ścian w wieżowcu Seagramów. Tymczasem w 1958 r., kiedy złożono zamówienie, artysta działał już przez agentów i marszandów. Jak w każdej transakcji biznesowej, obie strony usiadły do stołu i uzgodniły warunki zlecenia. Malarz wiedział zatem na etapie przyjmowania zamówienia, kim jest zamawiający i gdzie będą eksponowane jego płótna, których rozmiar notabene był dostosowany do wymiarów restauracyjnych ścian. Nie było tajemnicą poliszynela, że Seagramowie dorobili się majątku na handlu wódką, a nie dewocjonaliów, a obrazami Rothki chcą przyozdobić cholernie drogą knajpę, której klientelę bardziej interesować będzie „wystrój” talerzy i kieliszków niż wystrój wnętrza. Rothko zlecenie przyjął z sobie wiadomych powodów, a następnie z przyczyn też tylko sobie wiadomych umowę zerwał. Do jego decyzji przypięto łatkę „manifestacji artystycznej”: oto natchniony malarz stworzył płótna godne świątyni dumania i wolał zrezygnować z umowy, zwracając sowitą zaliczkę niż spauperyzować swoją sztukę. I faktycznie Mark Rothko zwrócił czek na ładnych parę tysięcy dolarów, a trzy obrazy, które namalował z myślą o Seagramach i ich restauracji jego marszandzi sprzedali do trzech muzeów: londyńskiej Tate Modern, Kawamura Museum w Japonii i Narodowej Galerii Sztuki w Waszyngtonie. Rothko stracił parę tysięcy dolarów, ale do ceny wszystkich obrazów dzięki „artystycznej manifestacji” można było spokojnie dopisać przynajmniej jedno zero. Cyniczne, acz skuteczne. Zabiegów marketingowych nie można mieć za złe ani artyście ani jego marszandom. Dzieło sztuki, wchodząc na rynek, staje się towarem i źródłem utrzymania dla artysty i handlarzy. Można mieć natomiast za złe, jeśli takie zabiegi opierają się na nachalnej indoktrynacji. Takiej indoktrynacji poddaje czytelnika Breslin, gdyż jej celem jest wytworzenie w czytelniku przekonania, że artysta był człowiekiem głęboko uduchowionym, a zatem i jego dzieło posiadać musi duchową głębię.
Rothko to artysta, którego życie i sztuka wciąż czekają na autora lub autorkę potrafiących rzucić na nie świeże, trzeźwe spojrzenie. W przeciwieństwie do znakomitej większości abstrakcjonistów, których popularność wywindowała krytyka, za życia Rothko nie miał dobrej prasy, a jego sukces komercyjny to zasługa dobrze dobranych marszandów i pośredników. Najciekawiej pisali o nim Robert Goldwater i Dore Ashton, ale nawet Ashton, która była jego bliską znajomą i później napisała o nim książkę, była bardzo zdawkowa. Potrafiła się rozpisywać na przykład o Philipie Gustonie, ale o nim najwyżej wzmiankowała na zasadzie „nasz wielki Mark Rothko”. Dlaczego jednak Rothko jest wielki? – to pytanie wciąż domaga się odpowiedzi, której Breslin udzielił jedynie chyłkiem i bardzo niechcący.
...was in london late last year and the 4 seasons paintings were on at the tate, and i'd seen them many times before, and been enthralled, but I thought, nah, been there, done that. But, being at unusually and lucky loose ends for an afternoon, I decided to go anyway. And I was, once again, so moved by the mysterious power of these immortal statements of spirituality, and emptiness, and the unifying silence. And all that. So now I'm reading my first biography of this great artist...born in an obscure part of Russia, came to the US only at about 12, to Portland Oregon of all places...a great book without the dulling detail that dragged down Hillary Spurling's Matisse opus - this book is as great as stevens and swans compulsively readable de kooning or chamberlins picasso -
A pioneer within and then without the Abstract Expressionist movement of mid-twentieth century American art, Breslin's biography introduces the reader to a misfit immigrant who arrived in Oregon as a young boy and follows Rothko across America to New York where he discovers art and his vocation.
Not always a happy man, nor a happy painter Rothko painted some of the most sublime works of art. Reading this book, I learned that my feelings for his paintings were often contrary to his and that was a bit disconcerting.
Regardless, his paintings are a special experience. Here, in Washington, DC's Phillips' Collection, there is a small collection of his canvases which used to hang on their own in a small gallery with a bench placed mid-room. It was somewhere I would go just to visit the Rothkos. There were many conflicting thoughts and emotions I felt which changed with each visit. (Should you ever come to Washington and are interested in art, the Phillips is not to be missed. The art was collected by Duncan Phillips and hung in his home which continues to be the location of this collection. There are many, many spectacular paintings arrayed with much thought providing a tour of modern art from its beginnings to present day.)
Breslin's biography is an exploration of what it is to live as an artist as well as to be a part of his life. Rothko married and had two children, a detail of artists' lives not always included when recounting the life of an artist. The book is a wonderful balance of a man of genius and the struggles and exhilarating joys he experienced creating a body of work that continues to affect art lovers today.
If you are interested in Rothko and the business of art, I would suggest reading "The Legacy of Mark Rothko" by Lee Seldes, an expose of the "greatest art scandal of our century. The first edition is dated 1978. There is a second edition (which I have not yet read) which continues the story of the scandal to its final outcome.
This is the Rothko biography. You won't find as extensive research into Rothko in anything else (that I've seen).
I've been in a bit of a Rothko rabbit hole after I decided to write some poems based on the chapel panels.
I read this hoping to find more details about his personal relationships (especially with Mell and his children). Sadly, there isn't much. Part of the blame seems to fall on Rothko, who, as Breslin portrays him, was a mostly absent father and inattentive husband. Still, I wouldn't have minded seeing these relationships explored more.
The story of Mark Rothko is very much the story of Abstract Expressionism and the rise of America art out of regionalism to "legitimacy," but it is also the story of a human being. There is more ink spilled on Rothko's relationships with painters he met perhaps a dozen times than the woman he lived with for decades.
I did more or less enjoy his readings of the paintings (though they were at times forced). I liked his readings of his commissions (though did feel his assessment of the chapel was bit harsh).
As an interesting counterpoint, consider reading Christopher Rothko's book. It's more an interpretation of Rothko's paintings, but his reads of Rothko's later works, esp. the two-color "horizon" paintings, as well as his personal anecdotes of his father, portray a radically different Rothko.
Both portraits are compelling however. And, again, you won't find this granular level of detail about Rothko anywhere else (unless I'm missing something).
I’ve long been drawn to Rothko’s paintings, but this book was not an easy read. It’s a heavy, solemn overview — a troubled journey from end to end, characterized by Rothko’s lifelong soul searching, personal demons, frustration, depression, and a fateful end. Nevertheless, the book provides valuable insights into New York’s vibrant, mid-century art scene, especially Rothko’s artistic development. If, however, you’re consumed less with Rothko’s life than his art, I suggest you pursue “Mark Rothko: Pictures as Drama,” published by Tashen, 2003 (part of their “Basic Art Series”). It’s beautifully illustrated with full-page images of Rothko’s cloud-like, color washes that seemingly float in an ethereal haze. That inexpensive publication may bring you far more pleasure.
On the one hand, I was grateful for how exhaustive this was. The author did a nice job of placing Rothko amongst his contemporaries - always sort of rooting for him without excluding the fine artists he worked with. And the actual art criticism parts were well-written and guide even someone unfamiliar with his work. But the biographical parts often overreach, with the author playing armchair psychologist, sometimes proposing to know why Rothko made individual, minor decisions or reading a wide theme from individual, second-hard remarks and stories. It doesn't enhance the story and feels forced.
The subject himself is fairly fascinating, and I love Rothko's work, but it did leave me wanting to know more about artists like Barnett Newman and Ad Reinhardt.
The author did his job and did his research, but the self-indulgent afterward almost entirely about his adventures traveling to research the book was unnecessary and changed tone so sharply from the writing about the end of Rothko's life and the art he was making then. I scanned it at best.
Whilst this remains the authoritative biography on Rothko and undoubtedly contains an exhaustive amount of effort from the biographer, there are a few issues with this work which a few other reviews have pointed out. This is namely the level of self-indulgence in interpretations of Rothko paintings; Breslin acknowledges the openness of these works many times but contradicts himself by providing readings of the paintings that sometimes last 4 or 5 pages long. There is at times too much of a personal involvement of the biographer in this work - I picked it up because I wanted to read about Rothko's life, Not James Breslin. Finally the afterword is beyond indulgent and a rather bewildering way to end the work. Whilst I learnt a lot about Rothko, the delivery of this information, at times, left me cold. Overall, this work was slightly disappointing.
Finally finished this. Comprehensive and detailed - won't need another Rothko biography for a while. A biography in the tradition of big 'door stopper' lives that essentially argue that everything is important. On its own terms, it does what it does exceedingly well. We are fascinated with other lives down to the details. (I remember Carlos Baker's bio of Hemingway that documented how many shotgun shells he packed for a bird hunting trip.) That said I'm not sure this is the best way of approaching the work. With a literary figure - Henry James by Leon Edel for instance- you can do a life and letters but I'm not sure this works for an artist. Maybe.
I'm a Rothko fan so curiousity drove me to happily read this detailed, lengthy bio. It might be a bit much for less-obsessed readers.
Overall, a vision of a complex man of opposing extremes emerged. The initial chapters outline his development as a painter, but what I thoroughly enjoyed were the chapters on his later group mural projects: the Seagram paintings, the Harvard murals, and the Rothko Chapel. The Rothko room at the Tate Modern where some of the Seagram group are displayed was an incredible experience.
Rothko's later and most significant works are mostly monochromatic panels with little form or colour variation. They can be a challenge to appreciate. Breslin revealed the man who created them, and helps one appreciate the forethought and intentionality behind them.
WAY too long. Too much minutiae. Too much psychoanalysis. I couldn’t make it through. I didn’t even get to where he was painting the big, rich color fields he’s known for.
Tedious. Rothko’s life was interesting and the book is a good way to know about an important time in art, but there are unnecessary details that makes it too long to enjoy.
It took me 28 years to finish this book. No reflection on the book; Just one of those things that happens. Rothko was a 20th century stone cold genius, distilling all that was the turmoil and triumph of the 20th century--concentrated into a vessel or oeuvre consisting of a few hundred large rectangular paintings. When glimpsed, the paintings loom over the viewer like a storm cloud or a dream perhaps. The paintings are stunning and soulful--an aesthetic distillation of immense power. Rothko was consumed by the malaise he attached to his Russian Jewish heritage and struggled mightily to shed the constraints wrought by that outcast immigrant mentality. That was a sense of loss he could never apparently overcome. The paintings in that sense are a ticket to his redemption.
Breslin's biography of Rothko is generally well-balanced, offering insight into the painter's difficult personality, his relationships with other artists of the period such as Barnett Newman and Clyfford Still, his unease with the art market, and his preoccupation with his place in history.
However, after reading the first two volumes of the Picasso biography and the bio on Willem DeKooning, I found this book to be not as interesting and in fact, difficult to get through - perhaps a combination of Breslin's writing style, tending to extend a point beyond what is necessary, and my own impatience with Rothko's foibles.
A balanced look at a difficult man and his monolithic artwork. While Rothko was an artistic genius, he had an unstable family life, a history of terrible business decisions and a habit of perpetuating myths about his life. The author is in obvious reverence to Rothko's talent but doesn't shy away from the more critical aspects of his life. However, the best part of the book is the epilogue in which the author details the odd encounters and adventures he had while researching the book. The prose style is so off-the-cuff and charming that it made me wish he would expand it to a separate book.
A solid biography. At times Breslin becomes a bit long winded. I found he often made unnecessary parallels between Rothko's life and his work (though this seems to be a pretty common fault among biographers). His descriptions of individual paintings were often long winded and superfluous. I think he could have mostly left these descriptions out, and instead included more images. But these complaints are minor. Overall I really enjoyed the book and it did deepen my understanding and appreciation of Rothko's work.
I really enjoyed this book and the information it provided. The author successfully presented a biography of Rothko's life and tied that in with his paintings and the methods, thoughts, and emotions behind them. The book gives a lot of historical information not just about Rothko's life but also other influential artists and institutions in that time. There were also descriptions of some of his paintings, and while other readers may not have enjoyed that, I did. It helped me understand and appreciate the works even more. I really got a lot out of this book.
Mark Rothko is one of the foremost abstract expressionist painters. I can appreciate each of the various stages through which his painting evolved. His latter color field works become darker as he struggled both physically & mentally, culminating with his committing suicide in 1968. This book was one of the first modern artist biographies I read, and it had a lasting impression (expression?) on my appreciation of modern art; especially the NY abstract expressionists.
I read this in preparation for my role; I played Mark Rothko in Olympic Theater Arts' production of the John Logan play, Red.
I found it incredibly informative, thorough, enlightening, and useful. Rothko's drive and personality, his amazing ambition to create a new way of looking. I am immensely grateful to Breslin for writing such a profoundly immersive study of Rothko and his contemporaries.
I'm so glad I took the time to read this book. I have a much better understanding of Rothko's place in time and others he was connected to, which in turn adds to my appreciation of his works and also of the works of those artists he knew, hung out with, argued with, and created with.