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Art Criticism - The State University of New York

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conscious poetry below or above gibberish, one would have to utilize (in<br />

painting) a new type <strong>of</strong> surrealism that could illustrate dreams as well as adapt<br />

to deep space the unconscious vocabulary without the commonly-shared classical<br />

referents that the non-objectivists demanded.<br />

Paintings like these are not problems to be solved, but rather answers<br />

without questions. If questions arose, it must mean that the painting did not<br />

seem natural to us, was over-embellished because <strong>of</strong> indecision. <strong>The</strong> strengths<br />

in the best work recalled the flung spume <strong>of</strong>W. Homer, the gilt-edged clouds <strong>of</strong><br />

Ryder, the Turner sunsets never beheld on land or sea. What was sought was<br />

always the quality <strong>of</strong> inevitability that finds correspondence in the unconscious<br />

laws <strong>of</strong> vision <strong>of</strong> everyone who saw the painting. Not just the record <strong>of</strong><br />

a frenzied dance, but an object <strong>of</strong> contemplation one can return to without<br />

tiring; a thing for museums, as Cezanne had wished for his work.<br />

Rothko'sexultation that painters were at last able to stretch their anns<br />

and breathe again and C. Still's admonition to keep one's work in the closet and<br />

show it only to initiates lest they be defiled by impure eyes-these statements<br />

show an intention not to be classed with any decadent group <strong>of</strong> popular<br />

proselytizing surrealists, as well as an unworldliness that supports H. Crehan's<br />

calling Still a Manichaeist. If one believes that the devil completely rules the<br />

world and that escape to paradise comes only with death, one cannot be called<br />

an existentialist, vowing to stoically improve things on Earth. Believing in<br />

essentiality, a transcendentally perfect existence elsewhere, the engages find<br />

glimpses <strong>of</strong> this perfection in mathematics, scientific laws. But in this new work<br />

there were no perfect circles or straight lines, only the tattered fragments from<br />

a heavenly battlefield. Bertrand Russell's positivistic finitude, his belief that all<br />

things in the universe could be numbered and that the list had an end, could<br />

never apply to these jagged-edged fonns <strong>of</strong> multiplicity's nightmare.<br />

Also here was a hint <strong>of</strong> unused demonic privilege. C. Greenberg<br />

claimed that not superego but only fear <strong>of</strong> punishment kept 1. Dubuffet from<br />

murder. Now we see intellectuals debasing this revered heresy in their dandyish<br />

sanctification <strong>of</strong> the criminal (apropos Sade and J. Genet) which is a misunderstanding<br />

<strong>of</strong> the Manichaeistic privilege, in Sartre and N. Mailer notably.<br />

<strong>The</strong>se canvases were placards saying "Repent, the world is at an end!" One<br />

cannot be slightly apocalyptic, choosing from the damned everyman some to<br />

be excepted from punishment. Instead <strong>of</strong> feeding on the supposed European<br />

traditions <strong>of</strong> vengeance, these men and women in deciding to be fearless in<br />

paint were on the gauche Whitman trail to being both loving and loved in their<br />

generous ignoring <strong>of</strong> particular grievances, since only what is feared is hated.<br />

2. SURREALISM: THE RlCHPERSON'S FOLK MAGIC?<br />

It was a surrealist, Dali, not an angry abstract ,:!xpressionist, who<br />

vol. 17, no. 1 11

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