Interesting to see a Mark Rothko selling for $72 million this week. When I was about 16 I often used to travel up to London on a Saturday (this is before I realised what a repellent cesspit the place is) and roam around visiting places which I thought were hip, like I would have a clue. One of them was the Tate Gallery, which at that time had a room with a couple of dark, brooding Rothkos in it. I found them slightly absurd (or at least, I found people sitting for long periods staring at them slightly absurd), but at the same time they definitely made an impact. They were overpowering and mournful. I have no idea if this is what the artist was intending. But I certainly got more out of them than I did the telephone with a lobster instead of a handset (Dali, if I’m not mistaken) or for that matter Duchamp’s urinal which I think was also there at the time.
It would be nice to skip on a century or so and see what they would make then of Rothko selling for $72 million. Warhol for nearly as much as well. I’m passing no judgement, simply because I’m not informed to do so, but you have to wonder quite how many clothes the emperor is wearing.