I enjoyed the de Kooning exhibit at MoMA mainly because of its organization. While I can make pretend to know what each of his paintings depicted and share what I saw in each one, I don’t think that would make for a useful bog post. Abstract art is not an art field that I am knowledgeable in, and it is not an art form that I generally appreciate. What I did appreciate, though, was going through the exhibit and watching de Kooning style transform. Even if I am clueless as to what he is painting, I can still tell this style changed drastically. The first two or three pictures were ‘normal’ still-life paintings. Then there were more still life paintings, however they become more stylized as de Kooning began to develop his own method of painting. Upon reaching the second section of the exhibit, de Kooning has hit his stride, painting abstract lines and figures on various media, ranging from cardboard to traditional painting canvas.
One aspect of abstract art that I discovered in this section, is how we say we can’t comprehend it, but we actually understand a lot of it. There were two of his pieces–both in black and white, and both using paint drips and thin lines as media–that were distinct. Despite the fact that I could not decipher the picture that I was looking for in the painting, I could clearly tell the difference between the two. One had jagged lines and thick globs of paint dripping down it, while the other had curving, flowing lines and thin rivers of paint sliding down it. Just being able to tell the two paintings apart means that I can understand something about them, and upon comparing them, I realized I could understand quite a bit. Expressing his anger with angular lines, and his delicacy with sinuous, playful lines, de Kooning created two completely different pieces of art, using the same two colors and the same painting techniques. I find that amazing.
There were two more parts, if I remember correctly. The next section had one painting that I was drawn to. It was created using mostly aqua blue paint, and was comprised of wide brush strokes of myriad consistences. In each brush stroke, the thickness of the paint created different emotions and sensations when viewed. Since the paint becomes darker as the concentration in one location increases, the thicker strokes were deeper and almost water like. Contrast this with moderately thin strokes, and wispy strokes that were barely visible, and I found a second work of abstract art that is stunning. Seeing as there was another piece of art with the same colors and techniques use right next to the one I just described that I found infinitely less appealing, I do not know what it is about this painting that attracted me. However, I do know I have more respect for abstract art now.
Finally, the last segment of the museum was in Willem de Kooning later years. In this art collection, the thick, frantic, passionate, brush strokes were absent, replaced by deliberate, calculated, strokes. Instead of using an army of lines to create an image, de Kooning used one line. Instead of dripping paint all of over his canvas, de Kooning left an abundance of white space. Like with many great artists, de Kooning mastered his art form, and learned the final–and hardest–lesson: restriction. In jazz, the older, wiser improvisers are not impressed by a technically impressive solo, but rather by an emotionally controlled and developed solo. In writing, a young loquacious writer generally develops into a master that can express his sentiments in fewer words. In art, the same concept seems to apply.
The exhibition of Willem de Kooning’s art at MoMA was fantastic, and explicitly outlined the evolution of his art in an easy to comprehend way.