Once upon a time in the far age of 1992, there was an abstract expressionist painter who wished her work to remain abstract. She consented to being the subject of a documentary, yet didn't seem that interested in participating; at least not when it came to providing easily discernible context about her work.
It's a different slice from abstract artists who insist upon, or perhaps goad, their audience into the central meaning—intentional or not—behind an art piece. Joan Mitchell, interviewed here at the age of 66, at work and in her elements, does the exact opposite. She runs circles around interpretations and offers this gem in reference to art, which might as well have been said with a wave of her hand:
"The moment you put the blah blah blah on it, it destroys the whole meaning."
Having previously only known her name and remember seeing only a couple of her paintings somewhere, I went into the film somewhat uninitiated and expecting a biography. You know, the typical stacked blocks of who-she-is, why-she-creates-art, what-she's-accomplished, why-she's-important, and that standard practice of all portraits of lesser-known artists: why-it's-a-crime-that-she-wasn't-a-household-name.
But this isn't that. Instead of informing us of Mitchell and her work, the doc's goal seems to be to capture her off-the-cuff personality, thus inviting viewers to learn more about her post-viewing. Assisting in doing this is the 40-page color booklet included in this DVD release, which provides more information on the subject, as well as a helpful timeline.
It's a nice inclusion given that the DVD itself is barebones. I wish they could've utilized the interactive capabilities of a DVD, perhaps a virtual gallery, but that's just my hankering for gadgets, and this release doesn't seem to have much of a budget behind it. The video and audio quality leave a lot to be desired, evidence of the absence of any polishing; there are no features, as mentioned, not even a commentary; and it even skimps on providing a subtitle or closed captioning that would've been helpful in certain spots. Still, it's an attractive package that should do well enough to be an introductory gift to the artist.
What makes this documentary interesting is that it structures director/interviewer Marion Cajori and her subject as competing in a languid tug-of-war, as the former tries to prod the latter into talking about her thought process and personal life, while the latter dodges and counters with disarming wit. Mitchell doesn't just avoid—she resists. There are brief moments where the significance of her gender as she was coming up as an artist in her genre is discussed, as well as political interpretations of her work, but Mitchell, without fail, finds a way to shoot down and even turn the questions against the questioners.
That's not to say the doc is completely allergic to insight, because Cajori does manage to get Mitchell to open up on her motivation to create art, while a number of traditionally interviewed contemporaries provide the answers and analysis that Mitchell would not. This, to my surprise, provides the dullest parts, as the fat of the film is clearly in Mitchell's loosely cobbled banters. In a somewhat inspiring choice, Cajori cuts and pastes these conversations together in no particular arrangement, set against a continuous jazzy score, then occasionally inserts shots of either city life or still photographs of Mitchell's paintings. The effect is not unlike standing inside an art gallery, glimpsing snippets of people trying to accost the artist, casual music in the background, while surveying the art hanging on the walls, with occasional stares out the windows (too bad about those talking head interviews ruining the illusion). As with most gallery visits, though, the interest eventually wanes and boredom seeps in—but this film is mercifully short at 58 minutes, allowing us to leave not too long after said point.
Maybe it's the running time, maybe it's the approach, but Joan Mitchell: Portrait of an Abstract Artist, as a documentary, feels incomplete. Then again, it may not be much in giving an insight into the elusive painter's mind nor does it act as a guide to understanding her work, but maybe what it's trying to say is that such tools do not, and do not need to, exist. Mitchell's paintings are filled with bursts of bright colors and flowery patterns that, even taken as wallpaper, are quite gorgeous to gawk at. Is that enough? Surely, there's more to grasp for them to be so intriguing? And it's precisely that kind of attitude that Joan Mitchell offered, to those looking for an "in," this thrifty counsel: "Just look at it."
"Joan Mitchell: Portrait of an Abstract Painter" is on sale July 27, 2010 and is not rated. Documentary. Directed by Marion Cajori. Starring Joan Mitchell.
