Pollock
I recently watched Pollock for the first time (it was released in 2000) and couldn't help but think of this passage by photographer Robert Adams in an essay titled, "The Achievement of Edward Weston: The Biography I'd Like to Read."
As a subject for biography, an artist requires a particular method of approach, I think, because, as Aristotle observed, the artist is distinguishable from the mentally ill (among whom Freud numbered us all) only by the fact that he manages occasionally, through his art, to escape the sick person's distorting, isolating perspective. It is therefore the artist's work, set against the life, that tells us how, in a measure, he escaped failure; thus it is the work that we must study if we are to learn something useful.
Although technically well done, Ed Harris (who starred in and directed the movie), as Adams would aptly argue, offers little more than gossip about Pollock the man and reveals little about his art and its meaning in the life of an obviously emotionally disturbed human being. Instead, Harris focuses on Pollock's drunken rantings; the movie ends depicting Pollock as a drunken homicidal maniac.
Perhaps he was a drunken homicidal maniac, but wasn't there more to Pollock's life and his art as means of escaping his "distorting, isolating perspective?" Harris reveals the physical and technical transformation of Pollock's craft--depicted as a fortuitous mistake--while ignoring the emotional transformations of the artist though his art.















