Red, Orange, Tan, and Purple, 1949
With Mark Rothko's paintings, people say that they evoke 'infinity.' Do you see it this way?
My understanding of infinity goes something like this: every 100 years a sparrow flies to the top of a large mountain, and cleans its beak by scraping it on the highest rock. By the time the mountain has been scrapped away to a small pile of dust, that would be the equivalent of the first second of infinity.
I thought of that the last time I stood in front of a Rothko and neither felt an overwhelming sense of infinity, nor had a mystical experience of any kind.
Maybe I've just seen too many Rothkos and they don't pulsate with ethereal splendour for me anymore. Or perhaps I never quite got the wonder of Rothko.
- My Name is Charles Saatchi and I am an Artoholic, p.18
