The Spectrum of Emotion: Mark Rothko and Sophie Calle

There is a relatively large, rather minimal, abstract painting by Mark Rothko on the second floor of the SFMOMA, №14, 1960. Opinions seem to vary over the painting’s value. For me, when looking at a Rothko, context is everything: are you alone while viewing it? Did you take more than a minute to absorb the work? Are you listening to music, or with a friend? Small influences may affect your ability to honestly, effectively absorb a piece of art.

I took a trip to SFMOMA one morning just to see this piece, and went straight to it. I didn’t want any distractions- I wanted as clear a mind as possible. I rushed around the corner and stumbled right into a class field trip. The SFMOMA guide was inquisitive as she scanned the crowd of elementary school children before her and asked, “What do you all feel when you look at this piece? Is it interesting? Emotional?” Perhaps her furrowed brow was unconsciously expressing anxiety about her own perceptions of the worth of the work. The children were incredibly quiet, and I was taken back to my own childhood and my own discontent with Rothko. I remember how my father would ramble about the power and emotional intensity of Rothko’s work and all my eight-year-old brain could think was “Yeah…..I could probably make that.” This seems to be a common response to abstract art, the idea that it takes little to no skill to make.

Mark Rothko №14, 1960, Courtesy of SFMOMA

When it was finally my turn to step up and get a good look, I heard a mumbled “I don’t get it” come out of the mouth of one of the students as he walked into the next room. Do any of us “get” abstract art? Does it really need to be intellectually examined? What if it just exists as a feeling? Each line, crease, and brushstroke led me further into this painting, and new colors, purples, blues, browns, subtle intentional markings started making themselves felt.

The brilliance of Rothko’s art is often revealed the longer you spend time with it, it’s as if the paintings are human, have personalities that take time to understand. I sat back, on the bench in front of the piece and admired its grandness from afar. Did I really have an immensely emotional experience or am I a victim of the Rothko placebo effect? If society tells you to enjoy something, do you oblige? Does that Rothko really make me feel insignificant or am I just projecting onto it? A piece of art so minimal can become an environment for emotion to breed. Abstract art is interesting because it means something entirely different to each individual who views it. It becomes less about the painter telling the viewer what to see and the painter allowing the viewer to feel.

A Rothko piece can become more than just a painting. It exists on the wall almost like a mental state. Colored grapheme synesthesia is a form of synesthesia where a viewer may associate words and numbers with colors. They may initially appear to be blobs of shapeless abstractions on a huge surface, but Rothko is communicating something to us. He is reaching into the depth of our memories and minds and asking us to find meaning in form and artistry. Or… it’s possible the work has absolutely no meaning at all and was created just for the sake of it. Maybe Rothko had no intentions other than to create, and, if so, that is entirely okay.

Rothko once famously declared:

“I’m interested only in expressing basic human emotions — tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on,”1

1 [1] Conversations with Artists, Selden Rodman, New York Devin-Adair 1957. p. 93.; reprinted as ‘Notes from a conversation with Selden Rodman, 1956’, in Writings on Art: Mark Rothko (2006) ed. Miguel López-Remiro p. 119.

That afternoon, I popped over to Fraenkel Gallery to see the show Sophie Calle: BECAUSE. I wanted to compare two artists on different ends of the spectrum aesthetically, but both criticized similarly — often noted historically, as lacking in deeper meaning by viewers. Rothko, presents as contained, quiet, introspective; and Calle, unapologetic, extroverted, conspicuous. While largely different, it’s easy to see both find common ground in emotion. While some contemporary artists find drive and motive behind aesthetic, controversy or politics — you can tell Rothko and Calle both share a sensitive nature.

Sophie Calle The Sky, 2018 Courtesy of Fraenkel Gallery

“Because” is a supporting conjunction that introduces clauses of cause and reason. Perhaps Calle gave her show that title to leave the viewer wondering about cause and effect. Because of what, Sophie? Because you can? Because you should or shouldn’t? Sophie Calle is a character, as many would say. Full of original and fantastic ideas, and definitely not lacking a unique personality: Calle has hired detectives to follow her, stalked strangers all the way to different countries, and worked undercover as a maid in order to snoop. So it’s clear, she’s no stranger to bizarre situations or issues of cause and effect…

Emotional and contemplative after reflecting on Rothko — I expected the unexpected from Sophie Calle; and was ready for the strange and eccentric. I was surprised to see kitschy colored felt curtains embroidered with gold writing hiding photographs: you only see them when you lift the felt up. This is the first choice among several: you have to lift the felt up. Maybe you ignore the text and go straight to the image, or maybe you read the text and then view the image, maybe you lift the felt up halfway, or not at all. It’s entirely up to you. Because of all the options Calle leaves to the viewer, it’s hard to create a linear story, or even muster up a connection between each piece; which is not necessarily bad, but also slightly unexpected for Calle’s work. I found myself thinking of Rothko, and how his work often leaves viewers feeling open-ended.

Both Rothko and Calle are creating work simply because they can. This mentality is an honest basis for the creation of art. Why does it have to be more than that? Who decided that all art had to have a definitive meaning? It’s clear that both artists have an extremely personal relationship with their work and want us to, too. Calle merges her own personal experiences and feelings with her photographs and allows us to experience intimate moments in her life. By allowing us to touch the art, she is inviting us to experience something of her. In Calle’s world touching, interacting, and investigating art is crucial to understanding or enjoying the work.

Calle is at times considered “Conceptual” and Rothko is noted as “Abstract”, two very different styles of expression, almost opposite in definition. Calle is engaged with presentation, spending time considering frame shape, size and color. While Rothko felt entirely the opposite, letting his raw canvas sit on the wall without any frills. Calle’s work is visually overstimulating, and Rothko’s at times underwhelming. The similarity between these two exists within their desire to envelope the viewer. To consume the viewer with feeling, in a sensory experience. Both embraced ambiguity, often drawing the viewer in with texture and color — but offering no further commentary. Both have an air of mystery, and a profound desire to explore the human condition.

Now the question of these artists’ work becomes less about the intention and more about “purpose.” This brings us back to the question of value, artistic, financial, and emotional association with art. So what can we gain from viewing and considering Rothko and Calle as artists? We start to grasp the concept of individuality and how a difference of opinion surrounding art is what keeps the market interesting. If everybody has the same opinion about every piece of art, if nothing is challenged, if everything’s the same, would art even be worth looking at? Perhaps Rothko’s work is simple or “pretentious” or maybe it’s revolutionary, or complex — and Calle’s “childish” or “sentimental”. Regardless of any of this, both bodies of work hold meaning and weight. They sit on the wall as something to discuss and ponder — just as every piece of art created has a purpose, either to dictate a new discussion or to inspire or debate.

The larger conversation surrounding Rothko and Calle’s work can venture from a conversation of “is this good art?” to “why is some art worth multi-millions and some art worth none?” There is a debate surrounding the financial repertoire of the art world. I have come to agree that some paintings are worth globs of money — Agnes Martin, Ellsworth Kelly, and even Rothko — but millions? Art starts to become less about, well, art and more about competitive capitalistic gain. My argument here stems less from whether or not Rothko (or any abstract art) should be on the walls of museums, and more about why and how they become worth so much. Who decides that Calle’s works should be sold for $20,000 and Rothko’s for 1 million? Surely they are both worth something, as respected and esteemed artists — but is their price tag a basis for the quality of their artworks? Is Rothko more important than Calle for instance? How do we decipher that?

The global art market raked in $65 billion dollars in sales in 2024. So why are we seeing so many galleries and artists struggling to make ends meet? The art market is like a financial machine, curators seek out art that garners them a reputation and, in turn, gallerists and collectors seek out these pieces, too. The art world has become a lot like a flock of sheep that the big galleries (Hauser, Pace, Gagosian, Zwirner) take turns herding. All the upcoming and newer artists get lost within the whirlpool of big names, big collectors, and even bigger markets. It becomes a narrow competition for who can exhibit the “best of the best” paintings and sculptures (hello, art fairs, I’m talking to you). This is the never-ending back and forth tennis match perpetuated by the financial end of the art world. Who can produce the best works and who can buy them.

Doesn’t this concept drive away from the emotion, intention, and integrity that surrounds art? Are all artists destined to be sellouts, if they want success? I can almost guarantee you that artists such as Basquiat, Rauschenberg and even, possibly Rothko weren’t making art with the intention of it ending up untouchable and hung for sale at an auction, where buyers aren’t genuinely interested in the artistry, but obsessed with the future profit. To further perpetuate the issue surrounding money and art: when a piece of art goes up for auction, the artist who created it doesn’t often receive a significant portion of that money. When the secondary market is introduced, artists reap little to no amount from that; furthering their distance from what they’ve created.

Here we have it. How capitalism and greed are engaging in a complicated conversation over the value of art. Who dictates what and how much a piece of art is worth, and should struggling artists even attempt to run the race? Is it hopeless to expect to make money from art these days?

How can we adjust the art market? Is that Rothko sitting on the wall a piece of art, or has its transcendent value become 50 million dollars? What do collectors see in this work, is it the same as what I saw, does it even matter to them? The questions are never-ending as we enter an era of extreme wealth gaps and competitive judgment. All we can do is sit back and watch it unfold and continue to push for equal opportunities for upcoming artists.