Q&A Pace Gallery founder, Rothko family reflect on Mark Rothko's enduring legacy

From left, Christopher Rothko, Kate Rothko Prizel and Arne Glimcher pose at Pace Gallery Seoul, Monday, where "Correspondence," a two-person exhibition of Mark Rothko and Lee Ufan, is held. Courtesy of Lee Soo-jin

By Park Han-sol

• Published Sep 3, 2024 4:20 PM KST
• Updated Sep 3, 2024 7:33 PM KST

Pace Gallery founder Arne Glimcher and Mark Rothko's children, Kate Rothko Prizel and Christopher Rothko, sat down with The Korea Times at Pace Gallery Seoul, Monday, for an interview to discuss "Correspondence," an exhibition that juxtaposes the late American Abstract Expressionist master with Korean artist Lee Ufan.

The show, launched in time for the return of Frieze Seoul, runs through Oct. 26.

Below are excerpts from the joint interview. They have been edited for length and clarity.

Q. This is your first time seeing the exhibition staged in person. What are your impressions of the show?

Christopher: I love that we have two separate galleries so that we have Rothko's paintings in conversation with each other and Lee Ufan's works in conversation with one another. And then the visitors are invited to draw their own connections between the two. Having these two distinct experiences that ultimately become one is, I think, particularly enriching.

Arne: Rothko was unquestionably one of the most influential masters of his time and remains so a century later. Similarly, Lee holds an extraordinary position, having influenced so much of what happened in Korea's "dansaekhwa" movement. So seeing these two masters, who so radically shaped their eras and expanded the perception of what we came to know as art, come together as an ensemble is very exciting to me.

Q. Was there any work by Lee on view that particularly caught your eye?

Kate: What strikes me about seeing Lee's work in person is its architectural quality, especially in his "Dialogue" (2018). I think this aspect really connects with some of my father's artistic aims, both in his paintings on display here and in his celebrated mural series [like the Seagram Murals at the Tate Modern and Rothko Chapel murals in Houston].

Christopher: That piece was a very pleasant surprise for me as well — the architectural element expressed through the folding screen, the way it guides you through its different peaks and valleys. It brought the work to life in a way different from a flat panel.

Q. How do the works of these two masters resonate with each other in the presentation?

Arne: Lee was partly influenced by Rothko in terms of the gradation of color and the placement of floating rectangles that have to be in just the right proportion on the canvas to create a sense of any tension or movement. But it's also important to consider what he does with that influence. It's not enough to simply make another Rothko; we don't need another Rothko. Lee takes essential elements from him and distills them into a minimal touch, allowing you to build the rest in your mind. While Rothko envelops you and carries you away, Lee places you within the picture.

Christopher: I think for both of these artists, so much of what is said comes from how much is not said. It's like what Debussy wrote — the music is not in the notes I play but in the spaces between them.

Kate: I've often talked about how our father began as an artist, and I feel it was very much a philosophical decision for him in the sense that he decided this was the way he wanted to convey his message to the world. And it was interesting to learn that Lee started as a philosopher.

Christopher: I'd like to add that in "The Artist's Reality: Philosophies of Art," the only book by Rothko, which has been re-published in Korean in time for this exhibition, he talks about how in ancient times, the philosopher, soothsayer and shaman were all embodied in a single person. As society changed, that kind of figure doesn't exist anymore. In his mind, the burden of that role has now fallen to the artist.

Q. In addition to letting viewers enter a moment of mediative communion, both artists' abstractions are said to "produce their own weather, transforming and reshaping our experience of space and our very presence within it." What are your thoughts on that?

Arne: For me, when you stand in front of one of Rothko's paintings, it feels like being on the open plains as a storm or fog moves toward you. Rothko envelops a room like that; he brings the weather indoors. It's all around you — behind you, in front of you. In contrast, I think Lee's work is almost like a screen through which you watch the weather unfold. They represent two different approaches, both equally compelling.

Christopher: I think of Rothko's paintings as small universes; they may appear minimal, but they contain everything. Each one has its own unique world, and depending on where you are personally, you have a different interaction with that universe.

Q. How do you think Rothko would have felt about this dialogue between his and Lee's pieces that transcends time and culture?

Christopher: One thing I've written a lot about is our father's quest to find a universal artistic language, one that transcends the painting itself. His art comes from his own experience, but he's trying to communicate those experiences to the broadest audience possible. This is what also led him to abstraction; he's looking to express emotions that could speak to anyone, everywhere.

Kate: I think he would have loved the connection. I often visit museums now and see so many young people drawn to his shows, which makes me realize he's transcending generations as well. If he had lived to see more of this, I think he would have been extremely pleased.

Q. The Korean public's perception of Rothko has largely been shaped by the two small-scale retrospectives ever staged in the country — the 2006 show at the Leeum Museum of Art and the 2015 show at the Seoul Arts Center. Especially with chronological retrospectives, there is often a tendency to align the progression to a darker palette in his later works with the artist's own tragic biography. But you all have continually made efforts to dispel the association of gloom and death attached to his works.

Kate: As a young person growing up with my father, I wasn't always able to step back far enough from biography to fully understand his work and the trajectory of his career, particularly during the last 20 years when he worked in full abstraction. It took me at least a decade to separate the man from the art and look at the works themselves to see how he was communicating with his audience. I realized that they had little to do with his personal biography. For example, there are incredible works on paper in dreamy pastels created at the very end of his career — something he had never explored before but obviously indicated a new direction.

Arne: I was lucky enough to know Rothko late in his life. There's no doubt that he struggled with depression from time to time; I would see it myself when I met him after work. But like with Agnes Martin, who had schizophrenia, neither of them created art during times when they felt unwell. For them, painting was a joy, a life-affirming act. You can't do that while you're depressed. So those darker pictures were searching for something else, a kind of eternity. Mark often felt that the subject of great art was tragedy, but a great portion of human life is tragic. His paintings were thus about not being afraid to face the complexities of life itself, whether they're yellow, pink or black.