In this imaginary dialogue, Abstract Expressionist Mark Rothko, known for his luminous color field paintings and profound views on art’s spiritual dimension, contemplates the state of contemporary art and humanity’s eternal search for meaning.
When I withdrew my works from the Four Seasons restaurant, it was because I couldn’t bear to see them reduced to expensive decorations for the privileged while they dined. Now… (long pause) now they’ve become exactly what I feared – status symbols for the wealthy. These paintings were meant to be encounters with the sublime, not financial assets. Each work was intended to create a space for contemplation, for confronting the deepest human emotions. How can one contemplate the infinite while thinking about market value?
The question isn’t about the medium – it’s about whether the work can create an experience of total immersion, of transcendence. Can a screen generate the kind of chapel-like space I sought to create? (Pauses) Perhaps. Virtual reality, for instance, might offer new possibilities for environmental totality. But I see too many works that simply occupy space without creating presence. Light from a screen is not the same as light emanating from within a painting. It doesn’t breathe.
Human emotions remain constant, even as our ways of expressing them change. Tragedy, ecstasy, doom – these are not outdated concepts. If anything, in this digital age, people are more desperately seeking authentic emotional experiences. My paintings were meant to make the viewer weep. When was the last time someone wept before a digital artwork? (Softens slightly) Though perhaps that says more about how we engage with art today than about the medium itself.
It’s a travesty. My paintings require time, silence, proximity. They need to envelope you. On a phone screen? (Shakes head) Impossible. It’s like trying to experience the ocean through a photograph. You might get an idea of its appearance, but where is the vastness? The overwhelming sense of the sublime? This quick, casual consumption of art is antithetical to everything I believe in.
You speak of style as if it were merely a set of visual characteristics to be mimicked. My works weren’t about style – they were about creating a space for the human spirit to encounter itself. Can a machine create a portal to the transcendent? Can it understand the weight of human suffering, the yearning for the infinite? (Pauses) These AI works might look abstract, but abstraction without spiritual content is merely decoration.
The desire to create totally immersive environments – yes, this I understand. But immersion alone isn’t enough. The question is: immersion into what? Into mere sensation? Or into the depths of human experience? The Seagram Murals were meant to create a space for contemplating our finite existence against the infinite. Digital environments could potentially do this, but most seem more interested in spectacle than transcendence.
Access to art is important, yes, but true democratization isn’t just about access – it’s about creating conditions for genuine encounter. I wanted my works in public spaces where people could sit with them, return to them, develop a relationship with them over time. Digital platforms provide access, but do they provide the conditions for this kind of deep engagement? (Sighs) I fear we’re creating a world of art without aura, without presence.
The movement toward abstraction was never about abandoning meaning – it was about finding a more direct way to express the fundamental human experiences that myths once captured. Today’s artists have new tools, new languages, but the essential challenge remains the same: how to make visible the invisible, how to give form to the formless. Whether through pixels or paint, the artist’s task is still to create vessels for human truth.
Slow down. Art isn’t content to be consumed – it’s an experience to be lived. Don’t be seduced by novelty or technique. Ask yourself: what truth are you serving? What silence are you creating? What space are you opening for the human spirit? Remember that the task of the artist isn’t to create new ways of seeing, but new ways of being.
Silence. Space. The tragic dimension. We’ve become too concerned with surface, with clever concepts, with instant impact. Where is the work that makes you tremble before the weight of existence? Art should be a doorway to the profound, not an escape from it. Until we recover this sense of art’s sacred purpose, we’re just making sophisticated entertainment. Art must not comfort – it must shatter and reveal.