We spent a crowded morning at MOMA, which seemed
to be everyone else's bright idea also on how to spend
a rainy Saturday morning. The highlight for me was
I believe that Pollack is one of those artists whose work
you have to see in person to completely take in.
Once faced head-on with those massive canvases
and the frenzy of colors and paint, I felt like I got him.
And it was nearly heartbreaking -- an alcoholic, Pollack
died in an alcohol-related crash in 1956 when he was merely 44.
Eschewing traditional painting tools & techniques,
he used house paint, hardened brushes, sticks, syringes,
indeed he used his entire body to paint. I can only imagine
what he carried in his head day-in and day-out that would
compel him to such epic expression.
Last night we saw South Pacific at the Lincoln Center:
talk about wonderful! These were the songs that my sisters
and I sang and played on the piano throughout our childhood.
A fantastic production! (I'm sure you'll be hearing more about
this from Citizen K.)