Going through the Motions

It's been a week now since I've left Spain. What a whirlwind of art. The mixing of time periods did a number on me. Just seeing the history of all that art made my head spin. It made me think of what kind of art history are we creating now?

My last visit in a museum in Madrid was at the Thyssen-Bornemisza. We visited the early modern collection which was just stellar. Most of the collection was paintings. There was an early Willem de Kooning that was to die for, Hombre Rojo con Bigote (1971), pictured.  Edward Goldman, of the Art Talk KCRW fame accompanied me, and he was a joy to go around and look at art with — especially in the museums, and especially in Europe.  There was a bench in front of the de Kooning, and we sat down and stared deeply, and blankly, into the painting. Then Edward began to tell a story about how de Kooning had Alzheimer's for the latter part of his life, but kept on painting. How the assistants would wheel him in front of an empty canvas, have his palette ready (colors that they were very rehearsed in mixing), then lift his hand with the glob of paint on it, and set his hand in motion, sort of a kick-start. Then Willem would be off and running. 

These latter paintings received mixed reviews. One would say that de Kooning was literally just "going through the motions." Of course art dealers and auctioneers would say they were just as important, but as we stared at the painting before us, with the colors dripping and mixing and moving, it was hard to imagine someone painting without their mind. Edward argued that one does need their mind to paint, as the hands of a painter are just their tools. 

I agreed with him wholeheartedly, being a painter myself (back in the day). We swiveled in our seats to see the Rothko painting on the other wall. We looked at that, and wondered what is it about Rothkos! I said that maybe we're supposed to go to the Rothko chapel to really "see" what all the fuss is about.

That was my last day at a museum in Madrid. The next day I took off a day of art, and went around eating, shopping, walking, dodging in and out of cafes to avoid the sporadic rain, and it was a glorious day in Madrid. Every time the sun came out, we'd say, "Oh look, the sun's coming out and it's not going to rain again." The five minutes later, there'd be a downpour. 

Life doesn't get much better.