I have a poster of this Rothko painting hanging in my apartment:
Every time I have someone for dinner, as an icebreaker or if the conversation goes stale, I ask them what they think it means.
A man with a belt on.
A landscape depicting pastures and a sunset.
A bunch of badly drawn rectangles that a 5-year-old could've made.
All valid, though none satisfactory to me. I'm obviously at an advantage since I've looked at it for so long.
I bought the poster 5 years ago at the MoMA on a quick trip to New York, and had it hanging ever since. It's my background for work calls in Mexico City, making me look either interesting or pretentious. I don't mind, its bright colors attracted me from the start, uncommon for Rothko's tormented, dark mind, which I later got to explore more deeply.
Last year, I lived for a few months in New York and got a MoMA membership. Something about the repetition, the familiarity, the possibility of going infinite times attracted me. And one day, I discovered how to be alone with iconic paintings I love, including this one by Rothko.
If I got there right at 10:30am when they open, I’d immediately get in the museum through the fast members line. I would sprint to the room I wanted to visit, with guards tensing as I quickly passed them by.
No worries my friend, no robberies today, I just want to spend some time alone with them.
While everyone is getting tickets, storing their things, I would get 10, sometimes 15 glorious minutes by myself. The closest to having these works of art in my living room. Such loaded canvas and me, nothing else. Religious, pure, contemplative experience.
Once, I wandered freely with my wife in the Monet room, almost getting wet by the pond and its water lilies. Another, my sister and I stared in silence at Van Gogh's Starry Night for 10 minutes. She ranks it among her top 10 moments in life.
As for me, I always returned to the room where Rothko's Nr. 5 is hung. After the 10th time, I knew the way like the palm of my hand. 4th floor, central entrance. I go through a couple of rooms, then see Jackson Pollock's massive One: Number 31, one more room and there I have it. Just like my poster, but maybe 5 times larger. It's huge.
As with any Rothko painting, the recommendation is to get really close, less than 1 meter away, and let it engulf you.
But my interpretation of this specific painting didn't come from those visits. It came once I was lying on the couch below the poster, looking up at it. It occurred to me that the painting is a timeline supposed to be read from the bottom up, and depicts a typical human life.
The soft green are our parents. They closely accompany us, the orange, when we're little up until around puberty. Then, adolescence explodes. It's bright, intense, red. Where everything hurts, where everything feels. We emancipate there, no room for our parents while we're going up in flames. Our exact coming of age depicted as 3 bumpy white lines.
Tragedy, ecstasy and doom. The big emotions Rothko wanted to express.
We then get into adulthood, the yellow part, and our parent's role diminishes. They stay there, maybe physically, maybe in spirit. We finally fade out in that white patch at the top, hopefully reuniting with our parents somewhere else.
Notice I said typical human life. The long, yellow section bores me. So every time I glance at the painting, I'm reminded I should be looking for intense, bright, red moments.
Ahhhh, I’ve been waiting to read this one since you mentioned Rothko. I wish I didn't let it slip past me.
I wonder what was going on during that period of time that led you to that interpretation. And I wonder what interpretation you’ll have a year from now, or five years, or ten, or however long, if you lay on the couch again and look at it from the same perspective, informed by a different perspective.
Especially because of this line:
“So every time I glance at the painting, I'm reminded I should be looking for intense, bright, red moments.”
The “should be looking for” is interesting. Do those moments come when you go looking for them? Is it better if you don't? And why “should” you go looking for them? Particularly when you consider the fact that adolescence is meant to be grown out of, and learned from, but not so much repeated. Should that intensity be sought after? (Although I am personally very drawn to intensity and that of adolescence lol but just curious to hear more from you on it)
I sense you may feel differently about red moments in the future, but maybe not?
I also wish you elaborated more on this, “That long, yellow section bores me.” ????
I feel like I can’t really have a complete opinion based on looking at it through a screen, but the white lines make me think of flatlining. Tragedy and doom. Weirdly, I find myself drawn to more of the yellow because of its expansive nature, it also feels more mysterious to me, and almost sad, and it being more calm than the red makes me want to spend more time with it.
I want to be engulfed. Just a smidge envious of your time with Rothko, Monet, and Van Gogh. 🥲
I loved that you mixed things up with this one. And 50mm feels perfect!
Love this interpretation Oscar. I like seeing through your eyes. The bit about adolescence is so relatable, and now that you’ve spelled it out, I’m sure it’s what I’ll always see when I look at this famous piece