Francis and Mark

Francis Bacon at Tate Britain and Mark Rothko at Tate Modern. These are two rather big shows to put on at the same time. And of course they occur right at the moment of school start here in London so they will certainly be subjects to discuss coming next week.
Personally I favored the Rothko exhibit, despite the fact that I went on a crowded sunny Sunday and think that the architecture within this old power station has been greatly mislead. The exhibition rooms were crowded, stuffy and dark. You moved past tourists with their audio guides on, faces down, thumbling with the digital stuff on it, mothers with strollers and noisy kids, ignorant ones, large in figure already, leaving their backpack on their back, which only vastens their appearance. And then of course the stereotypical art students and "intellectuals" wadding the pieces up and down as if only their eyes can reveal the truth, oh and not to forget, dosing an air of "how could anyone but us have been allowed in to see these pieces in real?".
But all this aside I did manage to enjoy Rothko's pieces. Because they were immense and gargantuan paintings. My ego turned green and kept begging myself to do pieces just as monumental. His paintings on view were beautiful and for some reason his paintings always make me misty. They are very passionate and emotional paintings. Not every viewer has such a grand opinion of Rothko but not every viewer allows themselves to take the time. Seeing a Rothko is not about understanding something profane or seeing something, its simply about feeling the colour. The warmth, the coolness, the passion. It is like feeling a vast landscape. Of course you see the landscape, but unlike other things you see, you feel something immense when you see a vast and open landscape. Philippe Ségalot, an art consultant, had some words on how a buyer might feel at an auction which I feel suits for any art work you see that impresses you, only here the value is the piece itself and not its market:

"Your heart beats faster. The adrenaline surges through you. Even the coolest...break out in a sweat".

With Rothko I care only about the work. I have no need to know about him or his biography. I've bought a biography of his long time ago but never started it. I have enough with just seeing his work, thats all I care about for the moment. With Bacon however, its a different matter. With his paintings I feel like I need to know more about him in order not to read them simply as distracting creatures but as something of him and his explorations.

I was impressed by Tate Britain. It is a beautiful building and unlike the rooms at the Modern, here they were perfect. Old wooden floors, angled entrances so that from one room you can see into the spaces of others, giving you a wider perspective, not like being locked in in a white cube. And the walls were painted in different shadings of white or gray, so that every space actually feels like a different space.
As to Bacons work. Of course I was impressed, certainly to be able to see so many of his, in real, in one place. It was substantial to see all these paintings. And I can't hide my colorist side, once again, I loved his colours. He had the most beautiful green. An English racing green, a green I've seen on cars here and want to use in a painting. Its a beautiful deep green.
With Bacons work, however, I quickly got to the point where I felt bored. Where, although I am a fan of his work, his lines, his colours, his marks started to annoy me, bother me and feel repetitive. In the end I was picking out things, like his arrows and fat outlines, that I wish werent there or had changed over the years of his work. There were some documentaries on him and interviews that were very interesting. I will have to find them and order them.

As a final note, do come and see these shows if you have the chance and come see me while you're here too.