Then there are the heavy paperbacks. Like Ninth Street Women. Boy, was this heavy.
At 716 pages, it was a commitment. And it was no subway read. It wasn’t small, light, or compact. But I’d seen references to it for years, and I finally decided to dive in. It would be my August read.
I’d always been taken by the Abstract Expressionists. Their work seemed to blow the very idea of representational painting out of the water. Expressing oneself on paper or canvas without rendering reality was revolutionary. It helped that I’d been to Pollack House on Long Island and had even watched young children do “drip” painting in an early childhood classroom. In my own work, I’ve loved the feeling of simply letting the brush or pencil take me where it wants to go, not giving a thought to what the result is.
If only the story of the Abstract Expressionist women – Elaine de Kooning, Helen Frankenthaler, Grace Hartigan, Lee Krasner, and Joan Mitchell -- were this simple. These renegades tossed the coats of convention and did things their way. They painted when only men were taken seriously, they lived in squalor, and they loved whomever they chose. What author Mary Gabriel managed to achieve was a complex overview of mid-century history through the lens of art, feminism, and world events.
No, Ninth Street Women was no subway read. It was, at times, overwhelmingly sad. Still, the exploration and celebration of these explosive artists was worth all 716 pages. That it took until October isn’t the point.
Like the stunning work of these women, it was all about the journey.
