The Worth of Pollock
Today is the birthday of Paul Jackson Pollock.
Interestingly enough I just watched a documentary on Monday called - Who the #$&% Is Jackson Pollock? It is about a tough-talking truck driving woman who bought a painting at a flea market for $5. She bought it as a joke for her friend. It wouldn't fit in the double-wide trailer door so she decided to sell it at a yard sale. Someone approached her at the sale and said "I think that's a Pollock." The owner didn't know anything about Pollock (hence the title), but she thought she could get rich on the painting. The documentary follows the next ten years of research from forensic scientists and art historians. It was never decided if it was truly a Pollock or not but the woman was offered $25 million for the painting. She is holding out for more money.
I began to wonder if there was anything in my life that I held on to like this painting. What is of worth to me? Who decides the value of such things? Did Pollock believe his "art" was of any value? Would he be shocked that his "mess" would be worth $25 million? Today he would have been 97 years old and as one great mind says, "he knows better now."
When I am in my painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing. It is only after a sort of 'get acquainted' period that I see what I have been about. I have no fear of making changes, destroying the image, etc., because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting comes out well. - Jackson Pollock
