LETTERS

Art in America, Sept, 1999

Rothko in Paris

To the Editors:

I was very interested to read Sheldon Nodelman's article "Rediscovering Rothko" in your July 1999 issue.

As a great connoisseur of Rothko's universe, the author compares the different installations of the exhibitions in Washington, New York and Paris. However he does not seem to realize that in Paris, as in New York, the visual presentation of the works was the object of careful attention. That is why, for instance, we asked the installation designer to go to New York to see the color used on the walls at the Whitney. This is the very same color we used in our exhibition, a hue that Mr. Nodelman liked in New York and found "too bright a white" in Paris. Concerning the "overly intense" lighting, you should know that we had about 70 lux on most of the walls, which is the softest lighting we have ever used on paintings in a show.

Of course, the exhibition was adapted in Paris to suit a French audience, which differs from an American viewership. With 250,000 visitors, it seems to us that this presentation greatly aided the discovery and appreciation of Rothko's work.

Suzanne Page Chief Curator Musee d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris

Sheldon Nodelman replies:

The designers of the Paris installation had a difficult space to cope with, and perhaps internal constraints of which an outsider would have no knowledge. My comments are in no way intended to impugn their good intentions or professionalism.

Rothko, perhaps more than any other 20th-century artist, attached great importance to the conditions of display of his works. His carefully reasoned views, repeatedly and vigorously expressed, are matters of public knowledge. However, because they run counter to prevailing museological conventions, they have been, since his death, far more often disregarded than observed. They call for subdued and evenly distributed lighting, a muted background tone--not bight white--for the walls, and close hanging of the paintings. (During his exhibition at the Sidney Janis Gallery in 1955, Rothko would repeatedly sneak unobserved into the gallery to turn down the lights.)

None of these prescriptions was followed in the Paris installation. Though the level of lighting was lower than is customary at the Musee d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, it was nevertheless too bright for the optimal display of the paintings.

The Paris exhibition was certainly successful in terms of the large size and visible enthrallment of its audience, but it is regrettable that viewers could not see the paintings as Rothko intended. That the exhibition in its earlier venues broke new ground as a serious attempt to acknowledge his recommendations is deserving of praise, and perhaps augurs well for the future.

Vietnam Vets: The Art of War

To the Editors:

Most perplexing for me as an artist who also happens to be a veteran of the Vietnam War was Eleanor Heartney's entirely predictable presumption that artists who were soldiers create art primarily for catharsis [A.i.A., May '99].

Though catharsis may indeed result from expressing oneself in an artistic manner, I would suggest that few, if any, of the 100-plus members of the Vietnam Veterans Arts Group--whose work forms the foundation of Reflexes and Reflections (the book reviewed by Ms. Heartney)--create the things they do to "heal" themselves or to "purge their psyches" of the horrors of war.

That misguided notion has plagued Vietnam War-related art movements since they first emerged in the late 1970s, and has affected me personally. It buys wholesale the media stereotype of Vietnam veterans as psychologically damaged goods, thus relegating their work to inherently second-class status. Our peers in the "uncontaminated," nonveteran art community seem to be saying to us, "We were not soldiers; hence, our views remain pure."

This prejudice holds that exposure to combat invariably debilitates people. Yet my own experience has shown that combatants are far more often strengthened and enlightened by the encounter than shattered by it. This is not to say that soldiers are better than other artists, only that they are not of lesser character, skill or intellect simply by virtue of having seen active service.

Civilian life, too, has its hazards--including accidents and crime. Artists who have been to war are not necessarily any more mentally scarred and unstable than anyone else. We are simpy artists whose subject matter falls outside the mainstream.

Michael Kelley Sacramento, Calif.

Eleanor Heartney replies:

I am sorry that Michael Kelley read my review as a denigration of war-veteran artists. Certainly, that was not the thrust of my argument. By foregrounding the artists' experiences in Vietnam, this thought-provoking book encourages the reader to view their work through this prism. In so doing, it raises important questions about how we attribute value to art. And indeed, as I pointed out, this work demands to be viewed as something more than mere therapy, forcing us to rethink the relationship of content and esthetics.