The New Academy

The Whitney Museum's annual roundup of contemporary American art may not accurately reflect the merits of modern American painting, but it is a jolting reminder of the power and influence of the new academy of abstract expressionism. Throughout most of the Whitney last week chaos reigned. More than a score of exhibitors seemed to feel that where there's a Willem (de Kooning) there's a way--through large and sticky briars of paint to a darkling goal.

Others followed rival leaders, such as Sam Francis or Robert Motherwell, or sought out stylistic byways they could almost call their own. The byways were apt to be dignified with mysterious road signs: Boon, Creation, Fluxus, Rite, House of Venus I. James Ernst coyly offered a Painting with a Secret Title, which resembled a tangle of TV antennas. Such literary hints and gestures were a change from the blunt titles of abstractions in the last few Whitney annuals, which gave merely a number or a date. Possibly more abstract expressionists were beginning to think in terms of meanings, whether or not they painted meaningful pictures.

Among the 143 paintings and 43 sculptures, there were some works, of course, by a handful of men who stand above fashion. Charles Sheeler's California showed a moonlit village so radiant and calm as to bring Bethlehem to mind. Mark Tobey's Pacific Circle was as boldly abstract as anything on view, yet as subtle as it was bold; it pictured the elements mingling in a gentle storm.

But more typical of the show as a whole was Robert Motherwell's entry--loud, messy, vigorous and oblique. Part of the title--Je t'aime, No. 11-A--was scrawled with grey mud against a background of black and orange bars. Beneath the letters was a bloody smear, at the point of what might be an upright brush. It did seem an odd way to say: "I love you, No. 11-A."

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