In my previous post on the tradition of women in mirrors in art I forgot to post one of my favorites from what I found- the top image above is a Norman Rockwell, "Girl at Mirror," from The Saturday Evening Post cover, March 6, 1954 (taken here from the Norman Rockwell museum website (http://store.nrm.org/browse.cfm/browse.cfm/4,206.html).
But something else struck me recently (not literally, as that would hurt); this recent New Yorker cover above (from the April 30, 2007 cover - taken from their website http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/toc/2007/04/30/toc_20070423) immediately reminded me of the Rockwell piece "The Connoisseur" (also above, and taken from the Artchive site; http://www.artchive.com/artchive/R/rockwell/rockwell_connoisseur.jpg.html) from the cover of The Saturday Evening Post, January 13, 1962.
I always loved the Rockwell piece, as the idea of this prolific artist- Rockwell- who was somewhat marginalized due to his commercial success, admiring his contemporary, Pollock, enough to attempt an imitation is really inspiring and says much of the relationship between painters in any era. There are quite a few pictures of Rockwell studying and preparing for this piece and show his admiration for Pollock and the larger discussion in art that takes place.
As a result, I loved the New Yorker cover, which seems to be communicating with both the Rockwell, the art world in general, and the themes in each piece. Rockwell's "Connoisseur" is a stodgy old man- the New Yorker's (art by Harry Bliss) are 2 city hipsters armed with a digital camera (who incidentally, are looking at the digital version, not even the piece itself). In connection with some recent articles in ArtNews and Art in America on the nature of art and the impact of digital art (as well as the question of looking at art versus prices and who the new collectors are), Bliss captures a lot of the new moment while seeming to communicate with Rockwell (2 cover art paintings, both with a similar mid-ground of a Pollock rendition, and both capturing the relationship between audience and art and their changing features).
There is something great about the idea of Rockwell as a major figure- see my poem "White Numbers" for my inclusion of his ever-present imagery in our culture- wrestling with the place of art and audience and his dialogue with the avant-garde.
"White Numbers" is a meditation on the Jasper Johns painting by the same name and includes quotes by John Cage, excerpts from Frank O'Hara poems, snippets of Johns interviews, and ends with Rockwell.
I am not sure what all of this means, but it interesting to me. Below is the final part of my poem "White Numbers."
Nothing’s solved finally, ever— moonlight, death,
religion, laughter, fear. People who once lived
in a bank, then converted it to a studio.
Here, money tallied and bound by elastics,
teller desks and bronze rectangled date announcements—
WELCOME. TODAY IS:________, ___, 20___;
today is an odometer, Norman Rockwell
pinned to the cracking stucco wall. Down deep,
safe deposit boxes, vaults, the office of the President
and drawers of computer tallied savings books,
home mortgage/car payment slips, receipts,
repeats, and paper. ATM machine with a line
outside, while away velvety rope balustrades
guide a meandering maze of empty peopled lines.
Margerie is filing down her pinky nail
with a coarse board of emery, snaps her fourth
piece of gum this morning, now bland and colorless.
She had five or so beers last night and dreams
about quitting— next door, the paint store is the same,
it may or may not be chance and probability, but your chance
is not the same as my chance, the roads, the phones,
opening, closing, bricks, windows, doors, and multiplying,
3, 9, frames, forgetting— that picture of the dog
tugging at the freckled kid’s pants, all attempt
to enclose some compensation.
2 comments:
While I've heard it said before that Rockwell admired Pollock and Picasso, I've never seen any actual evidence of him saying that. I certainly think the point of The Connoisseur is to poke fun at Pollock fans for not having a clue about art. I don't particularly like Rockwell's commercial art myself, but he was a trained academic artist who did portraits of presidents in a time when people like Pollock who probably couldn't paint a recognizable happy face were looked up to. Rockwell was also known to attempt humor in his art. How could he honestly think this man was a true art connoisseur? It's a joke.
Brett
You might be right on the actual evidence that Rockwell admired Pollock versus the fact that he was poking fun at him— and you are right that there is a bit of controversy in this regard in art criticism and art history circles.
There is quite a bit of documented opinion in this regard from Pollock academics— but this can be said to be biased, as they contest that Pollock was basically influencing everyone at the time.
And I am no Rockwell historian, however, in some of my experience with him there have been a few notable historians who claim both a reverence for the “high art” of the time (a la Pollock, de Kooning, etc.,) as well as an implied reverence to Pollock in particular when selecting this piece to paint and the actual making of it.
You may want to check out the Rockwell museum’s archives, and also the PBS program “Norman Rockwell: Painting America,” from 1999 (which was highly influenced by the Rockwell museum). They do make the case for the Pollock admiration.
I have come across one or two other articles in this regard in my travels, but can’t seem to find them now (I think there was one in Art in America in the last 2 years).
The implication in these is that 1) Rockwell was deeply saddened that he was a commercial artist and not a “high artist,” and there is documented evidence that he often fell into depression with family and friends that he couldn’t get out of the commercial place he was in 2) he made various attempts to shift from commercial to high art and didn’t feel he was taken seriously 3) he was meticulous in his craft and an absolute perfectionist and 4) he used “the connoisseur” to do his own version of Pollock, and combined his reverence and perfectionism to do an imitation in much the same way an art student would copy someone at a museum, or Monet took on Turner, Matisse took on Picasso, Pollock took on de Kooning, etc.
There are also some photos from the archives of Rockwell actually doing a Pollock treatment and getting the “drips” right in the square that is the canvas. Notice that Rockwell didn’t copy an actual Pollock (which he easily could have done with his background in illustration and his use of the camera in making paintings), but took the time to fashion his own “Pollock.”
The other piece of the puzzle is that, if anything, Rockwell was heavy handed in his social commentary— he was never subtle. The fact that people aren’t in the picture pointing and laughing or gesturing oddly seems to suggest a reverence, rather than a joke.
But, all that said, you are right. The only true documented evidence that I know of is that there are photos of him doing the procedure in a “Pollock” manner, and that Rockwell said quite often how much he admired the high artists of the time (and I actually think Picasso might be documented) and how much he wished he was one.
The only true point of contest I have with your comment is your shot at Pollock. In fact, his early illustrations (in the manner of Thomas Hart Benton) look more like a undulating Rockwell painting than one might guess. It took great mastery for Rockwell to imitate Pollock (and create so many Rockwell’s), and it took Pollock great skill to do his early figurative work (and to make so many great paintings).
Maybe he couldn’t have done a Rockwell at that stage in his career (since he was so boozed up on bourbon buried in the backyard), but the argument that Pollock, or any of the greats, couldn’t paint is preposterous.
Unless you believe the CIA made him famous. But that is a whole different blog post. But thanks for reading and for the comment Brett.
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