| "Autumn Rhythm: Number 30, November 1950) |
| The Night Watch (1642) |
Jackson Pollock's "Autumn Rhythm: Number 30, November 1950 and "Number 1, 1950 (Lavender Mist)" are shown back to back in the current "Krasner and Pollock: Past Continuous" show at the Met. There has already been a great deal written about the way in which the show foregrounds Krasner and gives her her due (Holland Carter's "A Knockout Show Resets the Record with Krasner and Pollock" (NYT, 9/29/26 is noteworthy). There are naturally many discussions to be had. Pollock for instance is likely part of your psychohistory and sensory vocabulary. Do you remember the first time you saw "Autumn Rhythm: Number 30" at the Met? Perhaps by now you may comment to your partner, "I get it, but don't ask me to explain why." Sure you can bring in The New Yorker's Harold Rosenberg with his iconic musings on abstract expressionism, or even lower yourself to exhuming the tyrannically brilliant Clement Greenberg, but why? Why must you explain yourself? Is this a trial? Are you still arguing for the defense? Perhaps you find yourself making an almost inane remark about being drawn to the edges? Abstract art begets a lot of commentary to the extent of the need to justify its very existence. Or is the painting just like "The Night Watch," something so great, so emblazoned on the unconscious that it defies, well one is not sure what it defies. But here's a notion. Abstractionism is realism. Conversely realism is abstract, the latter being a construct which is a product of the language cortex. "Autumn Rhythm Number 30" is in this manner of thinking or rather viewing, closer to the bone. Pollock's dancing a la the famous Hans Namuth movie produces sentences of mind speak with their own subjects, verbs and objects. Phenomenologists say a painting, being an object, has no agency. "Number 30" and" Number 1" are exceptions.
