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Fake Pollocks?
 A
new controversy is rocking the art world to its foundations. Using
sophisticated computer analysis, a physicist has concluded
 that
some paintings attributed to Jackson Pollock are fakes.
The very concept of a fake Pollock
is mind-boggling. It boggles my mind, anyway, and my mind is pretty hard to
boggle. Many have tried, and a few have startled or puzzled it briefly, but few
have actually boggled it.
I believe it was an original Pollock,
one of those freestyle drip jobs he became famous for, that first inspired
the philistine comment, “My kindergartner can do better than
that!” This brings us to the nub of the problem. Can sophisticated
computer analysis distinguish between a genuine Pollock and the product of a
kindergartner?
A devilishly difficult question.
Before you answer it, consider that Pollock, assuming he was right-handed,
may have done some of his work with his left hand, just to confound the
critics and future computer analysts. But for convenience, let’s posit
that all his genuine works were done with the same hand. Let’s also
posit that distinguishing between his genuine works and fakes isn’t
just a waste of time.
Despite his towering reputation in
the art world, I think even his most ardent admirers would concede that
draftsmanship wasn’t Pollock’s long suit. Like many others, he
may have chosen to pursue a career in serious art only after reluctantly
realizing he lacked the skill to succeed as a cartoonist.
If so, it may have been a fortunate
decision. Just when computer graphics seemed to be making the cartoon
obsolete, this venerable art form is causing more riots than all the great
Parisian artists put together. Nobody ever says of a cartoon, “My
kindergartner could inspire bigger riots than that!” And when it comes
to rioting, kindergartners are no slouches.
![[Breaker quote for Fake Pollocks?: What a concept!]](2006breakers/060209.gif) And
of course if Pollock had ever painted anything that looked like
anything, he would have been ignored and forgotten like so many other
talented artists. But he fortunately understood that he occupied a curious
niche in the world of art: he was that rare individual who lacked any artistic
ability whatsoever, but was able to spell his own name. The world was his
oyster.
Modern art criticism is remarkable
for the disappearance of a word that used to dominate the discussion of art:
skill. It was more or less taken for granted that an artist needed the
elementary skill to draw a catlike cat. If he could draw a naked woman, so
much the better.
Pollock got into the art business
at a time of radical change, when even nudity was out of fashion. In the age
of photography, Rubens would be unemployed, not to mention Cezanne.
Innovative artists had to come up with something fresher than such tired
themes as unclad women and bowls of ripe fruit.
Pollock came up with a hot one:
action painting. The artist no longer had to sit down and copy something with
approximate accuracy; no models were necessary. He could still meet girls
and achieve celebrity, but painting ceased to be a sedentary activity. All you
needed was enough vigor to splash paint on the canvas. Theoretically, even a
blind man could do it.
In an important sense, then,
Pollock was an artist for the era of equal opportunity. Anyone could sneer,
“My kindergartner can do better than that!” But considering
Pollock’s success, a more thoughtful response to his work would be,
“I’m in the wrong business!”
Pollock’s work is a standing
rebuke to any fool who has finished college, acquired useful skills, gotten a
job, and shown up for work day after day, year after year, in constant dread
of displeasing the boss and getting fired. An action painter needs far less
ability than, say, a house painter. I’ve never heard of a struggling
young house painter in a garret, but even the most successful house
painters don’t win international fame, enjoy posthumous glory, and
have movies made about them.
To the naked eye, an action
painting, in contrast to a painting of a naked woman, may not appear
self-explanatory. This perhaps is why Pollock seems to have put more
thought into the titles of his works than into the works themselves. As we
honor his achievements today, we can be grateful that he didn’t title
any of his paintings “Mohammed.”
Joseph Sobran |
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| Copyright © 2006 by the
Griffin Internet Syndicate, a division of Griffin Communications This column may not be reprinted in print or Internet publications without express permission of Griffin Internet Syndicate 
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