when art became important to
me,
but i do remember when
i fell in love with
mondrian.
while mrs. james loved
pollock,
and would often sing his
praises,
she at least made time for
other voices.
i found all that splash and
hiss
too bombastic, heavy-handed.
at that moment the terms
were set:
it was either mondrian or
pollock
(it would be years before i
faced
picasso and cezanne, or
monet and matisse).
i suppose it need not have
been
adversarial, but we must
choose camps.
i loved the elegance of his
project –
all those possible
variations
with limited means. i spent
hours
arranging and re-arranging
combinations of rectilinear
bars
and blocks of red, yellow,
and blue.
the elements seemed simple,
yet their effects maddeningly
complex.
years later i visited the
philadelphia museum of art
and visited the modern
European art wing.
there, mondrian was paired
with brancusi,
kindred spirits in their
search for essences.
they were so small, and
still
surprisingly thick and full
filigreed with cracks,
and no
less elegant.
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