ART

FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS OR SO AT SF MOMA

or the worth of art and especially a special Rothko

By Piper H. Olivas

Mark Rothko's No. 14, 1960

There is a relatively large, rather minimal, abstract painting by Mark Rothko on the second floor of the SF Moma, No. 14, 1960. Opinions seem to vary over the painting’s value. For me when looking at a Rothko, context is everything: are you alone while viewing it? Did you take more than a minute to absorb the work? Are you listening to music, or with a friend? Small influences may affect your ability to honestly, effectively absorb a piece of art.

I took a trip to SF MOMA just to see this piece, and went straight to it, as I didn’t want any distractions. I rushed around the corner and stumbled right into a class field trip. The SFMOMA guide acted inquisitive as she scanned the crowd of elementary school children before her and asked, “What do you all feel when you look at this piece? Is it interesting? Emotional?” Perhaps her furrowed brow was unconsciously expressing anxiety about the worth of the work. The children were incredibly quiet, and I was taken back to my own childhood and my own discontent with Rothko. I remember how my father would ramble about the power and emotional intensity of Rothko’s work and, all my eight-year-old brain could think was “Yeah.....I could probably make that.” This seems to be a common response to abstract art, the idea that it takes little to no skill to make.

When it was finally my turn to step up and get a good look, I heard a mumbled “I don’t get it” come out of the mouth of one of the students as he walked into the next room. Do any of us “get” abstract art? Does it really need to be intellectually examined? What if it just exists as a feeling? Each line, crease, and brushstroke led me further into this painting, and new colors, purples, blues, browns, subtle intentional markings started making themselves felt.

Rothko Among School Children

The brilliance of Rothko’s art is often revealed the longer you spend time with it, it’s as if the paintings are human, have personalities that take time to understand. I sat back, on the bench in front of the piece and admired its grandness from afar. Did I really have an immensely emotional experience or am I a victim of the Rothko placebo effect? If society tells you to enjoy something, do you oblige? Does that Rothko really make me feel insignificant or am I just projecting onto it? A piece of art so minimal can become an environment for emotion to breed. Abstract art is interesting because it means something entirely different to each individual who views it. It becomes less about the painter telling the viewer what to see and the painter allowing the viewer to feel.

A Rothko piece can become more than just a painting. It exists on the wall almost like a mental state. Colored grapheme synesthesia is a form of synesthesia where a viewer may associate words and numbers with colors. They may initially appear to be blobs of shapeless abstractions on a huge surface, but Rothko is communicating something to us. He is reaching into the depth of our memories and minds and asking us to find meaning in form and artistry. Or... it’s possible the work has absolutely no meaning at all and was created just for the sake of it. Maybe Rothko had no intentions other than to create, and, if so, that is entirely okay.

Does he even know his own intentions?

Now the question of Rothko’s work becomes less about the intention and more about “purpose.” This brings us back to the question of value, artistic, financial, and emotional association with art. So what can we gain from viewing and considering Rothko as an artist? We start to grasp the concept of individuality and how a difference in opinion surrounding art is what keeps the market interesting. If everybody has the same opinion about every piece of art, if nothing is challenged, if everything's the same, would art even be worth looking at? Perhaps Rothko’s work is simple or “pretentious” or maybe it’s revolutionary or complex. Regardless of any of this, the work holds meaning and weight. It sits on the wall as something to discuss and ponder. It has a purpose. Just as every piece of art created has a purpose, either to dictate a new discussion or to inspire or debate. Rothko is no different.

The debate surrounding Rothko’s work should venture from a conversation of “is this art?” to “why is some art worth multi-millions and some art worth none?” There is a debate surrounding the financial repertoire of the art world. I have come to agree that some paintings are worth globs of money -- Agnes Martin, Ellsworth Kelly, and even Rothko -- but millions? Art starts to become less about, well, art and more about competitive capitalistic gain. My argument here stems less from whether or not Rothko (or any abstract art) should be on the walls of museums, and more about why and how they become worth so much.

The Market in Action

The global art market raked in $67.4 billion dollars in sales in 2018. So why are we seeing so many galleries and artists struggling to make ends meet? The art market is like a financial machine, curators seek out art that garners them a reputation and, in turn, gallerists and collectors seek out these pieces, too. The art world has become a lot like a flock of sheep that the big galleries (Hauser, Pace, Perotin, Zwirner) are herding. All the upcoming and newer artists get lost within the whirlpool of big names, big collector, and even bigger markets. It becomes a narrow competition for who can exhibit the “best of the best” paintings and sculptures. This is the never-ending back and forth tennis match perpetuated by the financial art world. Who can produce the best works and who can buy them.

Doesn’t this concept drive away from the emotion, intention, and integrity that surrounds art? Are all artists destined to be sellouts, if they want success? I can almost guarantee you that artists such as Basquiat, Rauschenberg and even, possibly Rothko weren’t making art with the intention of it ending up untouchable and hung for sale at an auction, where buyers aren’t genuinely interested in the artistry, but obsessed with future profit. To further perpetuate the issue surrounding money and art: when a piece of art goes up for auction, the artist who created it doesn’t even receive a significant portion of that money. When the secondary market is introduced, artists reap little to no amount from that; not even royalties in many cases.

The Pace Gallery: money, power, or art?

Here we have it. How capitalism and greed are engaging in a complicated conversation over the value of art. Who dictates what and how much a piece of art is worth, and should struggling artists even attempt to run the race? Is it hopeless to expect to make money from art these days? How can we adjust the art market? Is that Rothko sitting on the wall a piece of art, or has its transcendent value become 50 million dollars? What do collectors see in this work? The questions are never-ending as we enter an era of extreme wealth gaps and competitive judgment. All we can do is sit back and watch it unfold and continue to push for equal opportunities for upcoming artists.

©Piper H. Olivas and the CCA Arts Review