Reflections on Rothko
The mythology that surrounds Mark Rothko and his work has made him an iconic figure well beyond the art world.
News of his suicide in 1970 came on the day the Tate took delivery of nine of his Seagram murals. Now the Tate has mounted an exhibition bringing these nine paintings together with six others in the series.
These paintings are at the heart of the show, and if the press view at is anything to go by, this exhibition of his late works will be heaving with fans - many who probably profess not to understand modern art, but love Rothko.
The Seagram series are vast canvasses, hung in one room. It feels like a cathedral; low lit and forcing meditation. The murals were created for the Four Seasons restaurant, in New York, a project Rothko turned his back on because he thought it an unsuitable place for his work and ideas. Walking among these deep, brooding blood-burgundy paintings, there is a strong sense of awe akin to a place of worship.
Imagining the room full of people, as it will undoubtedly be, begs the question whether viewing a Rothko amongst large crowds will really give you the experience he felt the work demanded.
As his son Christopher told me: "Unless you look at the paintings slowly, allow them to percolate, and almost go through a tenderising experience, there is little reward. If you walk through the rooms quickly, what are you going to see but coloured rectangles on the wall?"
Indeed, slow or fast, there will be people who will think the latter anyway. None of this should stop you from making the journey to Tate Modern, if you can.
Standing in front of a Rothko painting can be a profoundly emotional experience. Don't be intimidated by the crowds; take your time. His work reflects back at you what you put in. And at different periods of my life, I have seen different things in them. The black paintings, for example, are less a signature of bleakness and despair (they were among the last things he painted) than an attempt to test abstraction to its limits. There is nowhere to go in these paintings, except reflect on that which goes beyond the material.
I'm 
Comment number 1.
At 26th Sep 2008, graeme0309 wrote:"Mythology" is exactly what these pictures evoke. There's nothing there. Thousands are expected to turn up and try and eagerly 'will' themselves to see something incredible, hoping for an easily earned spiritual experience. It is a mixutre of mass hysteria and the power of the "Emperor's new clothes". Spirituality exists in abundance in many other structures, paintings, photographs, strangers faces all around London today. It just takes a little honest hard(er) work to find it.
Compared to Turner, Rothko could only have dreamed to have the skills to capture the light of the Thames or Venice.
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Comment number 2.
At 26th Sep 2008, dmahony81 wrote:I don't think the point of art is to 'expect' or 'will' yourself to see something. Also, if paintings are solely made to capture light, or any other literal likeness, surely a digital photo would do better?
I stood in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, staring up at a Rothko that took up a whole wall, and what I felt was not prompted by mythology or mass hysteria - I was seventeen and had never seen one before, or heard of Rothko.
I cannot really describe what I felt; in the same way, I cannot really explain what it is that I see to those who see nothing there. It was like I was falling into the painting and I could see layers of texture and colour that gave a sense or overwhelming... deepness.
I don't really know if such experiences should be 'hard work' or not but I do know that I thought it was beautiful, skilful and affective. Different skills to those of Turner, certainly, and not to everyone's taste, but I resent the fact that I am somehow deluded for appreciating them.
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Comment number 3.
At 26th Sep 2008, dmahony81 wrote:I meant idea, rather than fact.
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Comment number 4.
At 26th Sep 2008, graeme0309 wrote:And that's my point, you are not deluded. If people genuinely enjoy looking at Rathko's work - that's their privilege, their right and their pleasure.
But there is much more available art and beauty which will be overlooked in London today because the Rothko objects have been promoted and "hyped" (spin) by the marketeers and money men/dealers. What a shame. The same men who tell us that "Rothko shares the plinth with Turner". What tosh.
Joe Public will walk past a Turner and stop and gaze with wonder. Fewer - without marketing - would genuinely walk past a Rothko and give the work a second thought. So it is wrong for the bankers to try to tell us what is art and what is not.
People will cram into the Tate to see Rothkos work this weekend and most will try hard to believe that they are enjoying what they see - under pressure of the hype.
There is so much to enjoy within the other halls, or outwith, the halls of the Tate which will go unnoticed because it isn't viable to sell when the show is finished.
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Comment number 5.
At 30th Jan 2009, billy_carryduff wrote:The thought of someone writing musical score 'transliterations' of Rothko's work (or any other visual artists) is ridiculous, to say the least. Gradually it becomes irritating. I'd like to ask Mr Aitchison what he thought was missing from Rothko's paintings that he could furnish with a score.
Aitchison says he began by drawing on manuscript paper and previously has used geometric shapes of notes to convey some of Anthony Gormley's work. As I read this I am air punching his absence in the face. :)
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