John Logan’s acclaimed play, Red, offers audiences far more than just a splash of color; it’s a profound exploration into the tormented psyche of abstract expressionist Mark Rothko. As my former art director, Susan McAninley, at the Welcomat wisely stated, “Reading provides context and reference points,” distinguishing true artists from mere illustrators. Her words resonate deeply when considering Rothko, a figure steeped in classical knowledge from his Yale education, and the central subject of Logan’s compelling work, Red John Logan.
Logan’s Rothko isn’t merely about splattering paint; he’s a creature of intense intellect. In a dismissive remark about Jackson Pollock, Rothko declares in Red, “Pollock is emotion. Rothko is intellect.” This statement encapsulates the core of Rothko’s artistic philosophy, as Logan portrays it. He further emphasizes the cerebral nature of his craft, asserting, “Most of painting is thinking. Ten per cent is putting paint on canvas. The rest is waiting.” This portrayal suggests an artist consumed by thought, perhaps excessively so, according to Logan’s interpretation.
Often, the very characteristic that elevates artists to greatness – their unwavering focus on a unique internal vision – can render them challenging individuals. Think of jazz legend Bix Beiderbecke’s tragic pursuit of an unattainable note, a relentless obsession that led to his early demise. Rothko’s difficult nature, as depicted in Red John Logan, stems from the monumental task he sets for himself: competing with the titans of art and thought who came before him. Where Hemingway found terror in the blank page, Rothko’s terror lies in “facing Manet or Velasquez.”
Rothko’s Red: Painting for Posterity, Not Popularity
This is not an artist chasing fleeting fame or fortune. Rothko, in Red John Logan, paints for the ages. “I am here to stop your heart!” he proclaims with fervor. “I am here to make you think— not to paint pretty pictures.” His allies in this ambitious undertaking are not the fickle world of galleries or critics, but rather the very essence of his medium: color, particularly red. “The only thing I fear,” he confesses, “is the day the black will swallow the red.” In Logan’s depiction, Rothko’s truest companions are his canvases, destined to “live or die in the eye of the sensitive viewer.”
Red by John Logan transports us to Rothko’s New York studio during a pivotal period in his career: the late 1950s. Rothko has just accepted a commission to create murals for the opulent Four Seasons restaurant, situated atop Philip Johnson’s modern Seagram Building on Park Avenue. This lucrative project promises recognition but also presents a moral quandary: will Rothko’s profound art be relegated to mere décor for wealthy businessmen, individuals more concerned with power lunches than the power of color?
This internal conflict is explored through Rothko’s relationship with Ken, his young, impressionable assistant. Ken serves as a somewhat conventional theatrical device – the naïf who mirrors the audience’s potential ignorance, allowing us to learn about Rothko’s complex world without exposing our own unfamiliarity.
Beyond Red Paint: The Trauma Beneath the Surface
However, this dynamic, while functional, prevents the kind of intellectual sparring that might arise between equals. When Rothko berates a clearly intimidated Ken about “the importance of seriousness,” one might long for a character capable of challenging Rothko’s self-importance. A voice of reason, perhaps, who could retort, “Cut the crap, Mark. In all your reading, did you miss La Rochefoucauld? The man who wisely noted, ‘The man who lives free from folly is not so wise as he thinks’?”
Ironically, in Red John Logan, Rothko’s perceived suffering is overshadowed by Ken’s genuine trauma. Ken reveals a devastating childhood experience: the murder of his parents by a home intruder. This revelation presents a potent opportunity for dramatic confrontation – Rothko’s artistic torment versus Ken’s raw, real-world trauma. Yet, Ken’s painful confession barely registers with Rothko, who swiftly reverts to his self-absorbed complaints about an unappreciative world.
A Missed Opportunity in Red John Logan: The Grown-Up Conversation
The climax of Red, such as it is, occurs when Rothko decides to withdraw his murals from the Four Seasons, returning the substantial commission fee. Logan frames this as an act of artistic integrity in a materialistic society, and in one sense, it is. However, a more compelling dramatic avenue, one that Logan overlooks, lies in the fact that this phone call represents Rothko’s first interaction in the play with someone who operates in the practical world – Philip Johnson.
Rothko’s implicit message to Johnson is: “Sorry for the trouble, but hey— I’m Mark Rothko. Deal with it!” It seemingly never occurs to Rothko that others, even accomplished architects like Johnson, have their own complexities and pressures. His world revolves solely around his perception of how the world treats him and his art.
The late sociologist E. Digby Baltzell astutely observed the difference between Yale and Harvard men: “Yale men were preoccupied with what they were doing to the world; Harvard men, with what the world was doing to them.” Rothko, in this portrayal, embodies the latter sentiment, perhaps missing Yale’s intended lesson.
Unanswered Questions and the Power of Red
Rothko spent the 1960s searching for a permanent home for his Four Seasons murals. After finding refuge at the Tate Gallery in London in 1970, he tragically took his own life. Had he concluded his artistic journey? Was he a genius driven to isolation by his own brilliance and the world’s perceived indifference? Perhaps both.
Despite his intellectual prowess, Rothko, as depicted in Red John Logan, seemed to underestimate the transformative power of art, particularly his own. His murals, placed in the Four Seasons, might have profoundly impacted those “business-suited yahoos,” perhaps more so than the already converted art aficionados who frequent the Tate. An exchange exploring this potential impact, perhaps between Rothko and Philip Johnson, could have enriched the play.
Despite these dramatic limitations, Logan’s Red provides significant food for thought regarding the artist’s role in society. It is a rare theatrical piece that explores the creative process beyond the typical “show about putting on a show” narrative. One particularly captivating scene in Red John Logan depicts Rothko and Ken physically painting a vast canvas with vibrant red. Stephen Rowe’s portrayal of Rothko in the Philadelphia Theatre Company production is compelling, capturing the unrepentant genius. Leaving Red, one is left eager to engage further with Rothko’s art, while feeling that ninety minutes in the company of this unhappy genius is ample for a lifetime.
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