Art: Posh Pollock

In the two years since his death, Abstract Expressionist Jackson Pollock has become the nation’s most admired art export. Last week Pollock’s passionate, familiar dribblings of paint were on view in a London gallery. Judging by the record attendance as well as the reviews, Jack the Dripper had taken England in hand.

Pollock’s painting, said the Times, is “almost an act of spiritual brinkmanship . . . Like Pope’s spider, he feels along the line.” The Sunday Times’s John Russell, who had scoffed at Pollock in the past, now praised “the great pounding rhythms which batter their way across the 18-ft. canvases, never for a moment out of control.” Pollock was much more than “Drool School,” conceded the Manchester Guardian. “Rich and splendid design of this quality and on this scale is infinitely rare.” The Observer allowed that “the crude impression of a dotty exhibitionist spilling paint aimlessly over a canvas laid flat can be instantly scouted. Never, one surmises, was a pioneer more conscious of the effect he would eventually produce . . .”

There was still some British reserve. The overall effect of Pollock’s overall-painted patterns, said the Spectator soberly, was “neurasthenic dazzle.” Yet even the New Statesman’s gloomy John Berger had at last swung to Pollock’s side, comparing him to Actor James Dean as an unhappy genius in an age out of joint. Berger’s best guess on Pollock’s approach to art: “In desperation he made his theme the impossibility of finding a theme. Having the ability to speak, he acted dumb.”