Naples: Course of Empire is a depressing show because it is about apocalyptic events in the past, present and future. Depressing also because it’s a schlocky mix of abstract expressionism, color field and not-good-enough illustration.
In real life, a rabbit running toward you from a fire would trigger a flight response; it’s a powerful archetypal image. But when I moved closer, the image became static, seemingly decoupaged on the surface, alluding to but not embodying fear. It feels manipulative.
I don’t know if viewers will look at the rabbit (or the randomly sized and placed frog, fox, pigeon, etc.) and admire the craft. They are visually arresting—but only for a few seconds. The animals don’t relate to each other or the physical space of the painting. An attempt has been made to remedy this using clichéd clotted arcs of fiery lava.
To go back to that few seconds of interest: Will anyone look at a Rockman painting for more than a few seconds? Or any painting? So really, when I criticize painters for spending so little time on their paintings, I’m pissing up a rope.
If anything characterizes contemporary painting, it is big paintings made quickly. Ironically they look much better on tiny screens.
I have read several suggestions about the state of visual arts calling for better art and more honest critics—I’m going to call for better viewers. Maybe folks who don’t swipe through Instagram at eight pictures a minute (the average according to Instagram.) Or galleries that provide a bench so that people can look at the paintings for a little while longer. Plus higher expectations—a good painting provokes a deep emotional and intellectual connection and changes how you see the world. I think that’s a good definition of beauty, too.
In the 80s I was at a PPOW show that had a collage of blood and medical waste on foamcore and I said, “That’s awful.” I was reprimanded, “But it’s about AIDS!”
If I criticize Rockman , will you think I don’t care about the environment?
I despair that anything can ignite a groundswell of action to reverse climate change: not science, fires, floods, or the passion for walking in nature that people discovered during Covid. Where are the people with children or people who care about children?
Can it be accomplished by a group of paintings of dying seas populated by invasive species?
I do not doubt that Rockman cares deeply about the environment, so much so that he doesn’t care about people anymore. I get it, people are awful but…
One thing that makes me still care is the people at Mossy Earth* and other rewilding projects. When you see a degraded river, a lifeless agricultural field or a dead area of ocean floor turned into a thriving ecosystem filled with diverse species, it is beyond awesome. They care, so I don’t want to give up yet.
The series is based on Thomas Cole’s The Course of Empire. Unlike Cole, Rockman doesn’t spend any time depicting beautiful landscape, harmony with nature or sense of what has been lost. The eruption of Mount Vesuvius and the plague are his historical set pieces.
36” x 84”
This is a detail from Plague… arguably one of the worst in the series (but Grotte di Pertosa is in the running too.) The painting sets you up to look at this section by the casual painting of the buildings and the perfunctory Death riding on a rat emitting the yellow gas and then—meaningless daubs and splashes. Hyperallergic was awfully nice to characterize this as portraying the chaos of the response to the plague.
I don’t think I’ve seen a worse example of “abstract expressionist technique” used just to fill space.
If anything would make me appreciate Cole, it would be the contrasts between these two details. Cole has imagined the disaster so much more fully.
Some reviewers have characterized these paintings as cinematic because they use a standard widescreen format. Apocalyptica is a popular genre in movies and television— but not for me, so I googled “Why do people like post-apocalyptic fiction so much?”
This is my favorite answer on Reddit:
“I think it’s the idea of a clean slate, everyone is on the same level and the weak don’t survived [sic].”
“Post Human: Palazzo Donn’Anna” (2024) Oil and cold wax on Dibond, 36” x 84”
I see that male glee for destruction that we are seeing in every action of the Trump bros. What turns out to be the best painting of the series (if the crusty sandy foam, the rainbow and the ruined castle are ignored) is the whale alone exulting.
According to Rockman, it’s too late. Why paint then and who for?
—CNQ