Let me start off by saying this book is perhaps one of the most fascinating works I've ever encountered. It's an incredible book, but that said, I don't feel it's comparable to other (regular) books at all.

With respect to the entire process of writing, this was never fully developed. Nonetheless, it's lack of polish doesn't hinder it in any way. Written by Mark Rothko back in the 40s, it laid hidden for decades in a manila folder until Christopher Rothko (the late artist's son) took the time and care to have it published.

That, you see, is what makes it such a wonderful read. It isn't just some prose, carefully laid out by writer, editor and publisher. No, it's much more than that. It's a rare view into the mind of a great artist, if not arguably one of America's best abstract painters.

The book in many ways unfolds Rothko's thinking. One rich in both meaning and insight. Or in other terms, let me equate it to my view of Rothko's abstract paintings: somewhat obscure at first, but with time and patience, one eventually finds incredible meaning, substance and emotion.

What I find especially of interest is Rothko's commentary on the role of art and science. Often people split these two, with presumptions about their different manifestations. Rothko has actually made an interesting case for their unity, and how in fact they have much more in common than we are taught to believe.

I won't go into great detail. However, if you are a struggling artist in any medium, I think you'll find this book a great revelation.

Of course, it's not a page-turning thriller. You need to stop every now and then and think -- God forbid people should actually be forced to think while reading-- and yes, it may be somewhat slow as you stop and go, trying to tease meaning from some of Rothko's more elaborate sentences. But be assured, there is profound meaning imbedded here. The more time you invest, the greater your reward.

Overall, this book offers a unique perspective on art, creativity, and the mind of a genius. It challenges our preconceived notions and invites us to look deeper into the world of art and its connection to other aspects of life. Whether you're an art lover, a student, or simply someone interested in exploring new ideas, this book is definitely worth a read.

This work has an interesting history.

It was posthumously published by his children.

Mark Rothko had remarkable verbal, analytical, and critical skills. Maybe, for an artist, he had even an excess of such skills or a touch of pedantry, which could be paralyzing. After all, words are not the same as paint. The book was written earlier in his career, before his mature style emerged, and it reflects his exploration of what art is supposed to be.

Rothko, as we know, committed suicide years later. Reading his ultimate frustration with life into this much earlier work might be a stretch. He thought that publishing it during his lifetime would cause critical confusion.

In my opinion, the most interesting and clearly defined part is his question of "plasticity", that is, what makes a painting succeed as a painting? His answer is that there are two aspects. One is to select the plastic values and emotional timbre in specific images, as seen in academic painting. The other is to focus on the plastic values of the painting itself, as with the arrival of modernism. Although a continuum exists, people usually lean towards one of the two camps and criticize the other based on the application of the other standard. He also uses the terms "visual" for the former and "tactile" for the latter. The basis for this distinction is that the first kind of art wants us to see beautiful objects within the painting, not in the actual space we can touch, while in the second kind of painting, the painting itself becomes a beautiful object and its space is touchable.

Marshall McCluhan later used a similar distinction to define what he meant by cool and hot, which confused many people, but this was long before the book was finally published.

The latter part of the book was more like a program, perhaps suitable for a critic but not so great for an artist, and it hasn't aged well over time (although it does hint at some of the high-art existential angst that became prominent in the abstract expressionist era, and a mythology that shifted from the image to the act). He describes a search for a timeless yet contemporary myth, which reflects some of the concerns of his transitional work. However, his work ultimately aimed to find the sublime in expansive, solemn, and shimmering sheets of color, without any direct trace of myth.

**Title: The Significance of Heavy Stuff**

In our daily lives, we often encounter what we might call "heavy stuff." This could refer to a variety of things, such as physical objects that are difficult to lift or move, or emotional burdens that weigh us down.

Physical heavy stuff can present challenges in many aspects. For example, when it comes to construction work, handling heavy materials requires strength and proper techniques to ensure safety. In a similar vein, moving heavy furniture during a house relocation can be a laborious task.

However, heavy stuff is not just limited to the physical realm. Emotional heavy stuff can have an even greater impact on our well-being. It could include experiences like grief, stress, or anxiety. Carrying these emotional burdens can make it difficult to function normally and can affect our relationships and overall quality of life.

Despite the difficulties associated with heavy stuff, it is important to remember that it can also bring about growth and learning. Overcoming the challenges posed by physical heavy stuff can build strength and resilience. Similarly, dealing with emotional heavy stuff can help us develop emotional intelligence and the ability to cope with difficult situations.

In conclusion, while heavy stuff may seem burdensome at times, it is an inevitable part of life. By learning to manage and overcome it, we can become stronger and more capable individuals.

Well,

I'm truly glad that I have an appreciation for Rothko's paintings. However, when it comes to his writings, it's a different story. His words seem to reek of mediocrity, and I'm really suffering through this particular piece. Here he is, philosophizing about art, delving into its meaning and its place in society, all while railing against the decorative arts.

It's no mere coincidence that this was written just a year after he left his wife, who happened to be a highly successful jewelry designer. At the same time, his own career was in a rather precarious state, seemingly down the toilet.

One can't help but wonder if his personal turmoil and the state of his career had an impact on the quality of his writing. Maybe his focus was elsewhere, and as a result, his philosophical musings lack the depth and insight that one might expect from an artist of his caliber.

Nonetheless, his paintings still hold a certain allure for me, and perhaps that's where his true genius lies.

Such an interesting read - for me. I love his (later) work - though, as an utter neophyte when it comes to visual art, I have no idea why - just as I adore Klee but Kandinsky leaves me quite cold. It's truly a mystery to me why some artworks resonate so deeply while others don't.

If you didn’t know the author, you would not know it was written by an artist - let alone by Rothko: he does not refer to painting from the first person perspective and certainly doesn’t mention his own work. This detachment gives the text a unique flavor and makes it more accessible to a wider audience.

It was fascinating to read someone speaking confidently about art - and sweeping effortlessly across history. I have often “tuned in” to someone speaking about art - to be very disappointed by what is marshalled. I am thinking back, especially, to Nicholas Serota - who spoke quite a lot without - I felt - saying anything - despite heading up the Tate. In contrast, Rothko's insights are refreshing and engaging.

The essays are weird, and in places quite disturbing - especially when talking outside what is usually called the ‘western’ tradition. Those essays came nearer the end of the book. The earlier essays - on plasticity and distinguishing between tactility and illusory space - were partially incomprehensible to me - but I still feel I got a lot out of them. They made me think and question my own assumptions about art.

I recognise, partly from the introduction by his son, that Rothko took singular and highly contestable positions - I cannot just myself - but simply listening to an important artist - however partial his knowledge and eccentric his ideas - was an experience I am glad I have had. It has broadened my perspective and deepened my appreciation for the complexity and diversity of art.

This book was not initially on my to-read list, and my discovery of it was entirely fortuitous. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that led me to pick up this volume. To my great surprise and joy, I am unable to convey just how ecstatic I am to have this gem as my first read of the year.

Although it is an unfinished script that was pieced together into a complete book by the author's son long after his passing, the book's power is not diminished by its incomplete nature. I found myself deeply immersed in Rothko's perspective on art, viewing it through the prisms of history, philosophy, science, and, of course, his own profound contemplations. The writing style is precisely to my taste, with its smooth clarity and harmonious flow of thoughts and narration. Many ideas are presented for us to examine and discuss, yet at no time are we compelled to adopt a particular point of view. Instead, readers are invited to explore them alongside Rothko and freely wander within the sphere of art and artists that has been opened up for us. Christopher, as the editor, also did an excellent job of weaving all the essays together, and I can sense the dedication and homage he wishes to pay to his father.

I love this book, and perhaps that is sufficient to begin this review.

It is speculated that this was possibly never really intended by Rothko for publication. It was amassed during a fallow period in the early '40s when he stopped painting.

It seems to be his own history lesson, serving as personal reminders and reinforcements to bridge the gap as he searched for new approaches to his work. However, nothing is lost in attempting to understand his paintings without reading this work. In fact, his paintings truly only require direct experience to be understood, in one's own unique way.

Superior to this treatise is the Broadway play, "RED," starring Alfred Molina. This play is far more contemporaneously political and provides greater illumination of his motivations, beliefs, and struggles with his art. It offers a more engaging and dynamic perspective on Rothko's artistic journey, bringing his story to life in a way that the written treatise may not fully capture.

I picked up this book with the intention of delving into Rothko's abstract art. However, it's said to not be the ideal choice for that purpose, as it was written a few years before he created his most renowned abstract works. Moreover, he doesn't directly discuss his own art at all. Nevertheless, it is an interesting philosophical work in its own right and presents things in an engaging light.

Rothko begins by positing a theory about the imperative to create art. He compares it to the concept of biological immortality, similar to how Shakespeare expressed it in his sonnets. It's like having children, a way of extending oneself into the world. He argues that men create art as a fulfillment of the biological need for self-expression.

But I'm not convinced that this captures everyone's motivation for making art. I think the real point Rothko is trying to make is to arrive at a more specific characterization of the artist's motivation. He states that it's the poet and philosopher who provide the community of objectives in which the artist participates. Their main concern, like the artist's, is the expression of their notions of reality in concrete form.

This idea of expressing one's subjectivity, or "Ways of Seeing," as John Berger puts it, is what the artist wants to turn into an object and put out into the world. It's interesting to consider how this relates to intersubjectivity. Would the compulsion to turn one's notions of reality into objects still exist if no one would look at them? Sometimes people just need to get something out of their heads, while other times it's a means of communication or a way of seeking understanding. Rothko characterizes it as a more fundamental, primal self-expression, a biological imperative.

The fact that art is a physical object seems crucial for Rothko. He emphasizes the ineffability of one's reality and the experience of art. Art has to "speak" for itself, and the "world of verbal ideas" can be oblique and even distracting from the core project of expressing one's reality. Berger also touches on a similar point when he says that seeing comes before words and that the relationship between what we see and what we know is never settled.

Rothko further argues for the primacy of the sensual. He claims that sensuality stands outside of both the objective and subjective and is the ultimate instrument to which we must refer all our notions. It's our index to reality, and both the objective and subjective viewpoints must ultimately appeal to our sensuality. This not only explains why paintings can do things that prose can't but also how art can bridge the subject-object divide and express one's reality.

In our modern era, it's well-known that it's difficult or perhaps impossible to give a satisfactory account of qualia. Rothko seems to hold out hope that art can progress in an experimental and piecemeal way, following the science of the day. As science has fragmented from the unified study of the Aristotelian universe into specialized disciplines, art has also changed as our way of looking at the world has evolved.

Rothko believes that this process can work, and I love his optimism. He acknowledges that modern art has been criticized for tearing apart the body of art without putting it back together. But he argues that even if this is true, the task that modern art has accomplished is enormous. Even if the pioneers haven't reached the promised land, they have led us to the mountains from which it can be viewed.

This is why I used the word "experimental." Art can progress by trying to express pieces of reality and seeing what the result is. The "subject" of an abstract work of art, for example, could be the more abstract experience of having a mood established in oneself without the influence of symbols, narrative, or thoughts of how the painting relates to anything else.

Rothko's work makes me think about the nature of art and how we perceive it. This book gave me a lot to ponder, and while it may not have been the intended reaction to his art, I enjoy thinking about these things. In the end, it's probably more accurate to say that you can still "get" something from his art no matter what you bring to it, or perhaps even that it's not about having something to "get" at all. When we perceive a painting properly, we become aware of the life of the picture as a whole, and the sum total of our recognitions and emotions is the result of the plastic journey we have enjoyed.

While I indeed took great pleasure in a significant portion of what Rothko had to express, the segments regarding “primitivism” and his fixation on art having to reach a particular caliber in order to be truly regarded as art really left a rather unpleasant impression on me. It seems that Rothko's views in these aspects were somewhat one-sided and exclusive. His emphasis on a specific standard for art to be worthy of the label might have limited the appreciation and recognition of various forms of creative expression.

There could be many different types of art, each with its own unique charm and value, that might not conform to the strict criteria he set. This narrow perspective makes one wonder if he was missing out on the beauty and significance that could be found in art that didn't meet his exacting standards.

Overall, although there was much to like in Rothko's ideas, these particular aspects give cause for reflection and a reconsideration of what truly constitutes art.

Mark Rothko's book, "The Artist's Reality: Philosophies of Art," is a verbose work that expounds on his views regarding philosophy, art, and plasticity.

Despite his son Christopher Rothko's claim of having cleaned up the writing from its original version, it still appears as a raw, unedited first draft filled with ramblings. This further validates Christopher Rothko's assertion in the introduction that this book was never intended for publication.

Nevertheless, beneath the extensive wording lies substance. Mark Rothko has clearly dedicated a great deal of thought to the manuscript and what he aims to convey.

I meticulously combed through this book, jotting down notes in the margins and even rewriting some chapters in my own words to gain a better understanding. This is something I have never done before with a book. The positive outcome is mostly practical. I have become more adept at articulating artistic philosophy, which is beneficial if, like me, you are enrolled in a college-level art or art history class. However, the negative aspect is that it will take a considerable amount of time for my brain to recover from the state of confusion it entered while attempting to grapple with the concepts presented in this book.

This book presents a series of Rothko's profound reflections on various subjects.

These include beauty, reality, myth, sensuality, the artist's dilemma, and the role of unconscious processes in creative work, among others.

The introduction was penned by his son, Christopher Rothko.

Some quotations from the text are as follows.

"What is the popular conception of the artist? Gather a thousand descriptions, and the resulting composite is the portrait of a moron: he is held to be childish, irresponsible, and ignorant or stupid in everyday affairs."

The picture doesn't necessarily imply censure or unkindness. These deficiencies are ascribed to the intensity of the artist's preoccupation with his specific kind of fantasy and the unworldly nature of the fantastic itself. The bantering tolerance given to the absentminded professor is extended to the artist.

[…]

This myth, like all myths, has several reasonable bases. Firstly, it attests to the common belief in the laws of compensation: that one sense will gain in sensitivity due to the deficiency in another. Homer was blind, and Beethoven deaf. It was unfortunate for them, but fortunate for us in the enhanced vividness of their art. But more importantly, it attests to the persistent belief in the irrational quality of inspiration, finding that true insight between the innocence of childhood and the derangements of madness that is not given to normal man.

What aided the artist in his little game was the dogmatic unity of his civilization. For all dogmatic societies share this in common: they know what they want. Regardless of the contentions behind the scenes, society is permitted only one Official Truth. The demands made on the artist, therefore, originated from a single source, and the specifications for art were definite and unmistakable. That, at least, was something… one master is better than ten, and it is better to know the size and shape of the hand that holds the whip. In a master, definiteness and stability are preferable to caprice.

Overall, this book offers a fascinating exploration of Rothko's thoughts and ideas on art and the artist.

Brilliant!

This simple word holds a world of meaning. It can describe a person's intelligence, a remarkable achievement, or a moment of inspiration. When we encounter something brilliant, it often leaves us in awe and admiration.

A brilliant mind is capable of solving complex problems with ease, seeing connections where others might not. It is a source of innovation and progress, driving us forward in various fields.

A brilliant achievement is the result of hard work, dedication, and a touch of genius. It stands out from the ordinary and becomes a benchmark for others to strive for.

A brilliant moment can be a flash of inspiration that changes our perspective or a stroke of luck that leads to something wonderful. It is a reminder that there is always something extraordinary waiting to be discovered.

In conclusion, the word "brilliant" encompasses all that is remarkable, outstanding, and worthy of our praise. It is a celebration of the human spirit and our ability to achieve great things.