I was born in 1953. It was a time in America when the art world was just experiencing this new medium, abstract painting. Most notably the technique called drip painting, or action painting was being popularized. The now famous artist Jackson Pollock was working in his studio in the hamlet of Amagansett. My father was employed as a plumber at that time and was dispatched to Jackson Pollocks place. I heard the tale many times growing up and always chuckled in the hearing and the telling of it. You see Dad wasn't a fan of this " art " at all, in fact his opinion of it was it was akin to the Emperors new clothes! Convince rich people of something and they will buy it. They buy that stuff just because they can, to show off their wealth, disguised as intelligence or taste. I concur with him on that, it's the only explanation that makes sense to me. A fool and his money soon part company is what I was told. I've been around enough to know the truth of that statement. I admit there have been times when I had first hand experience with that. I did buy water ski's without having a boat to pull them. Well, a fool and his money. But I'm getting off track a bit.
Now, the story went something like this. Dad went to the house of Jackson Pollock to take care of whatever plumbing issue he was having. He was directed to the studio where Mr. Pollock was working. Entering the studio my father saw this big canvas lying in the middle of the floor. Jackson Pollock was dancing around it throwing paint everywhere! Dad just watched hesitant to interrupt. But Pollock looked up and saw him standing there and asked who he was and what he wanted. Telling him, I'm the plumber Pollock approached him. Dad says I could smell him coming, his breath stunk of whiskey! That man was " three sheets to the wind " as the saying goes. My father told of speaking with him and Jackson muttering about that painting he was doing. It made no sense to Dad at all and he just listened. Eventually he was told what the issue was and went to fix that. And that was his interaction with Jackson Pollock. Jackson Pollock, in case you don't know, was killed in 1956 in a car crash, he was drunk.Now he is idolized by millions and that studio is like a shrine. His home in Amagansett and the studio are open for tours, that's what I read these days. Saw an article were they charge you forty dollars to walk through there but you do get to make a painting, just like Jackson Pollock did, using old house paint and a stick or just splashing it around. Works best if you dance around a bit, throwing your body around. That's what imparts that dramatic effect into the art!
Some years later, I'm not certain what year that encounter took place, Dad had built an upstairs onto our house. Yes, he transformed that ranch style home into a two story house, but that's another whole story in itself. What's important here is that on one end of the house was one large room. That was the bedroom for my two brothers and I, to share. No wall to wall carpeting in that room, or any room in our house for that matter. The floor was made from tongue and groove pine. At that time it was cheaper that using plywood! Yeah, it was a long time ago. That floor was painted a light grey color, kinda battleship grey in fact. May have been some surplus paint from the war, I don't know. Whatever the case we weren't too happy about it, it looked rather dull. But Dad had a plan! He had been inspired by Jackson Pollock! He gave each one of us kids a pint can of paint, regular old house paint. I think mine was yellow. Then he gave us each a stick and explained how to " drip " paint on that floor, just like a famous artist did his paintings. And so we all set to it. As you can imagine we children had a blast. Given a can of paint and a stick with permission, indeed encouragement, to drip it all over the floor. What could be more fun than that. We danced around and slung that paint everywhere. I'm thinking Jackson Pollock would have been impressed and pleased by the result.
When I left that home in 1971 the floor was still painted in that fashion, although covered by a large area rug, the " art " only peeking out on the edges of the room. Mom and Dad had taken over that space renaming it the master bedroom, previously it was just the boys room, not to be confused with the bathroom. I often wondered about all of that growing up in that room. I knew who Pollock was and what he was famous for. I had seen his paintings and I didn't see much difference between them and that floor. To be honest about it, I still don't. But I grew up in a room inspired by Jackson Pollock, in a fashion. I have to snicker about all of that though, Pollock's paintings worth millions of dollars, at least Warhol could paint a Campbell soup can, poor Pollock could only splash it around. I've spoken with those that knew him socially. He did frequent a certain watering hole, and I mean frequently, and shared some of his thoughts about the whole thing. He said it's what sells, so I do it, but he didn't think it was all that. He said, I want to be an artist. I can understand that. Too bad he never lived to see his work being sold for the crazy prices they are getting, maybe that would have consoled him. But that's all hearsay, I wouldn't really know, he died when I was three.
Now, the story went something like this. Dad went to the house of Jackson Pollock to take care of whatever plumbing issue he was having. He was directed to the studio where Mr. Pollock was working. Entering the studio my father saw this big canvas lying in the middle of the floor. Jackson Pollock was dancing around it throwing paint everywhere! Dad just watched hesitant to interrupt. But Pollock looked up and saw him standing there and asked who he was and what he wanted. Telling him, I'm the plumber Pollock approached him. Dad says I could smell him coming, his breath stunk of whiskey! That man was " three sheets to the wind " as the saying goes. My father told of speaking with him and Jackson muttering about that painting he was doing. It made no sense to Dad at all and he just listened. Eventually he was told what the issue was and went to fix that. And that was his interaction with Jackson Pollock. Jackson Pollock, in case you don't know, was killed in 1956 in a car crash, he was drunk.Now he is idolized by millions and that studio is like a shrine. His home in Amagansett and the studio are open for tours, that's what I read these days. Saw an article were they charge you forty dollars to walk through there but you do get to make a painting, just like Jackson Pollock did, using old house paint and a stick or just splashing it around. Works best if you dance around a bit, throwing your body around. That's what imparts that dramatic effect into the art!
Some years later, I'm not certain what year that encounter took place, Dad had built an upstairs onto our house. Yes, he transformed that ranch style home into a two story house, but that's another whole story in itself. What's important here is that on one end of the house was one large room. That was the bedroom for my two brothers and I, to share. No wall to wall carpeting in that room, or any room in our house for that matter. The floor was made from tongue and groove pine. At that time it was cheaper that using plywood! Yeah, it was a long time ago. That floor was painted a light grey color, kinda battleship grey in fact. May have been some surplus paint from the war, I don't know. Whatever the case we weren't too happy about it, it looked rather dull. But Dad had a plan! He had been inspired by Jackson Pollock! He gave each one of us kids a pint can of paint, regular old house paint. I think mine was yellow. Then he gave us each a stick and explained how to " drip " paint on that floor, just like a famous artist did his paintings. And so we all set to it. As you can imagine we children had a blast. Given a can of paint and a stick with permission, indeed encouragement, to drip it all over the floor. What could be more fun than that. We danced around and slung that paint everywhere. I'm thinking Jackson Pollock would have been impressed and pleased by the result.
When I left that home in 1971 the floor was still painted in that fashion, although covered by a large area rug, the " art " only peeking out on the edges of the room. Mom and Dad had taken over that space renaming it the master bedroom, previously it was just the boys room, not to be confused with the bathroom. I often wondered about all of that growing up in that room. I knew who Pollock was and what he was famous for. I had seen his paintings and I didn't see much difference between them and that floor. To be honest about it, I still don't. But I grew up in a room inspired by Jackson Pollock, in a fashion. I have to snicker about all of that though, Pollock's paintings worth millions of dollars, at least Warhol could paint a Campbell soup can, poor Pollock could only splash it around. I've spoken with those that knew him socially. He did frequent a certain watering hole, and I mean frequently, and shared some of his thoughts about the whole thing. He said it's what sells, so I do it, but he didn't think it was all that. He said, I want to be an artist. I can understand that. Too bad he never lived to see his work being sold for the crazy prices they are getting, maybe that would have consoled him. But that's all hearsay, I wouldn't really know, he died when I was three.
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