“Hundreds of paintings,” Musselman reminded me, “that stressed the lyrical abstraction of the figure against landscape.”
We stood in the hush of the vacated classroom, teacher and student, picturing Pollock moving cat-like above a large canvas stretched below him.
“The layers,” I said. “Really something in the way he seemed to be rushing in and out of the painting, adding layers.”
“Yes,” Musselman said. “Even in the grainy film you could see how he was working with different values of paint.”
“Really something,” I repeated, frustrated that I couldn’t pinpoint in words my fascination with Pollock’s wild display of energy.