ShuraKh

Bonus

Happy Birthday, Mark Rothko

Rothko was born in Dvinsk, Russia (now Latvia). In 1913 he left Russia and settled with the rest of his family in Portland, Oregon. Rothko attended Yale University, New Haven, on a scholarship from 1921 to 1923. That year he left Yale without receiving a degree and moved to New York. In 1925 he studied under Max Weber at the Art Students League. He participated in his first group exhibition at the Opportunity Galleries, New York, in 1928. During the early 1930s Rothko became a close friend of Milton Avery and Adolph Gottlieb. His first solo show took place at the Portland Art Museum in 1933. Rothko’s first solo exhibition in New York was held at the Contemporary Arts Gallery in 1933. In 1935 he was a founding member of the Ten, a group of artists sympathetic to abstraction and Expressionism. He executed easel paintings for the WPA Federal Art Project from 1936 to 1937. By 1936 Rothko knew Barnett Newman. In the early 1940s he worked closely with Gottlieb, developing a painting style with mythological content, simple flat shapes, and imagery inspired by primitive art. By mid-decade his work incorporated Surrealist techniques and images. Peggy Guggenheim gave Rothko a solo show at Art of This Century in New York in 1945. In 1947 and 1949 Rothko taught at the California School of Fine Arts, San Francisco, where Clyfford Still was a fellow instructor. With William Baziotes, David Hare, and Robert Motherwell, Rothko founded the short-lived Subjects of the Artist school in New York in 1948. The late 1940s and early 1950s saw the emergence of Rothko’s mature style, in which frontal, luminous rectangles seem to hover on the canvas surface. In 1958 the artist began his first commission, monumental paintings for the Four Seasons Restaurant in New York. The Museum of Modern Art, New York, gave Rothko an important solo exhibition in 1961. He completed murals for Harvard University in 1962 and in 1964 accepted a mural commission for an interdenominational chapel in Houston.

While Rothko believed his paintings spoke for themselves—and routinely derided art critics who attempted to explain his practice with words—that didn’t stop him from developing his own theories about the power of art and the creative process. Throughout his career, from the late 1920s until his death in 1970, the New York–based painter amassed a body of writing and gave a number of interviews that reveal his views on how creativity can be unlocked and encouraged.

Rothko emphasized that “the most interesting painting is one that expresses more of what one thinks than of what one sees.” Likewise, he placed great weight on abstraction’s ability to convey what is most important to humans—not the world around them, but their emotional life. “[Shapes] have no direct association with any particular visible experience, but in them, one recognizes the principle and passion of organisms,” he wrote, in the art journal Possibilities.While Rothko was a master colorist, as evidenced by his signature monochromatic rectangles, whose deep reds and blacks reverberated against each other, he routinely emphasized that his paintings weren’t simply about a selective palette. “If you are only moved by color relationships, you are missing the point,” he once told writer Selden Rodman. “I am interested in expressing the big emotions—tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on.” He believed that these emotions, when conveyed through abstraction, would stoke intimate, profound emotional experiences in the viewer, as well. “One does not paint for design students or historians but for human beings,” Rothko stressed to curator William C. Seitz, “and the reaction in human terms is the only thing that is really satisfactory to the artist.”

To achieve this deep and direct response from viewers, Rothko took care to remove what he saw as “obstacles between the painter and the idea, and between the idea and the observer,” as he said in a statement published in the art journal Tiger’s Eye in 1949. He wanted to forge clear pathways through which his audience could fully experience his paintings, which became, as scholar Miguel Lopez-Remiro has pointed out, “scene[s] of communication with the viewer.”He achieved this through increasingly abstract compositions, lacking identifiable markers of the outside world. He also left his paintings untitled, allowing viewers to respond to the forms that filled them, rather than written clues. Rothko gravitated towards large canvases without frames, too, so that the work became one with the audience’s environment—as interactive as a door or window might be. “Small pictures since the Renaissance are like novels,” he once said in a lecture at Pratt Institute. “Large pictures are like dramas in which one participates in a direct way.”The painter also advised that viewers situate themselves as close as 18 inches away from his canvases, “perhaps to dominate the viewer’s field of vision and thus create a feeling of contemplation and transcendence,” as the Museum of Modern Art has suggested. 

 Rothko took his own life on February 25, 1970, in his New York studio. A year later the Rothko Chapel in Houston was dedicated.

“Silence is so Accurate”

Dion Salvador Lloyd (b1967)

Skysalt 2019

London’s Hidden Tunnels Revealed In Amazing Cutaways 

The layout of London can only be fully understood if we examine it in three dimensions. Tim Dunn takes a look at some of the capital’s greatest cutaway diagrams.

Our city is a fascinating, infuriating, terrifying, beautiful place. As curious Londonists we attempt to make sense of it and the way it works so that we can better assert our own place within it. It is often said that London is an infrastructural palimpsest: layer upon layer of networks and systems. But that really isn’t the case. London, like any urban form is a complex, woven fabric of infrastructure — each system maddeningly intertwined with others.

The passenger steamer SS Warrimoo was quietly knifing its way through the waters of the mid-Pacific on its way from Vancouver to Australia. The navigator had just finished working out a star fix and brought Captain John DS. Phillips, the result. The Warrimoo’s position was LAT 0º 31’ N and LONG 179 30’ W. The date was 31 December 1899.

“Know what this means?” First Mate Payton broke in, “We’re only a few miles from the intersection of the Equator and the International Date Line”. Captain Phillips was prankish enough to take full advantage of the opportunity for achieving the navigational freak of a lifetime.

He called his navigators to the bridge to check & double check the ship’s position. He changed course slightly so as to bear directly on his mark. Then he adjusted the engine speed.

The calm weather & clear night worked in his favor. At mid-night the SS Warrimoo lay on the Equator at exactly the point where it crossed the International Date Line! The consequences of this bizarre position were many:

The forward part (bow) of the ship was in the Southern Hemisphere & in the middle of summer.

The rear (stern) was in the Northern Hemisphere & in the middle of winter.

The date in the aft part of the ship was 31 December 1899.

In the bow (forward) part it was 1 January 1900.

—

This ship was therefore not only in:

Two different days,

Two different months,

Two different years,

Two different seasons

Evening of Interesting Conversation   -   Liz Haywood-Sullivan, 2017.

American, b.1950s  -

Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland (by Tabajara)

“Coastal Dreams” - Original Photography by André Campos (lsleofskye)

Simon Evans