This book has a wonderful introduction written by the Mark Rothko's son Christopher Rothko. He explains the way some years after his father's death the manuscript was discovered, and edited. Mark Rothko never finished the work but rather left it off in draft form, perhaps as his son speculates because he became involved in his principal work, painting, again.
The book consists of a series of short essays on such subjects as 'The Artist's Dilemna' 'Art as a Natural Biological Function' 'Art as a form of Action' 'The Integrity of the Plastic Process' 'Art Reality and Sensuality' 'Plasticity' 'Space' 'Naturalism''Subject and Subject Matter'
'Beauty' ' The Attempted Myth today'.
Rothko considers the artist's ultimate reason for doing what he does. He rejects the idea that the first reason is the desire for immortalization. He rejects the idea that the artist " wishes any charity in regard to his self- assumed sacrifice" He claims instead that the Artist " wants nothing but the understanding and love of what he does."
Rothko writes profoundly and often movingly.
A highly recommended work.

this is basically a personal journal. The artist's ruminations about art and life - very dry reading. Rothko often contradicts himself. There are several books available (such as those published by Taschen) which are much more readable and are filled with beautiful illustrations of the artist's work.

Mark Rothko wanted the viewer of his work to engage in the metaphysical. Yes, his paintings are beautiful colour works, yet the impact on ones pysche is where Rothko wanted to communicate. Colour was his tool. Philosophically he was a profound man and this book has given great insight into how relevant [important] Rothko is to annals of Art History. When an artist expresses the spiritual, emotional, academic, through colour and the scale of the painting, he engages the viewer on so many levels. This book gives insights, and is a worthwhile acquistion to the understanding of the man, Rothko!

In rummaging through Mr. Rothko's diary we admit to a certain thrill of impatience, one not far removed perhaps from the eagerness of a child confronted with a cake crammed full of delicious fruits and nuts. The words of a sensitive and accomplished individual come at us, after all, in The Artist's Reality, with the rapidity and variety characteristic of a fertile mind at play with a vital business. And a delightful morsel it turns out to be, this work which has been recalled to life following a miraculous rescue from an old trunk, as its editor informs us, and bearing witness from its very title to a commendable regard for the real.

While a thorough analysis of this work would take us far, we will confine our remarks requisite to the limitations of space. Let us applaud, to begin, Mr. Rothko's generous consideration of the topic of abstraction, a term which he believes should be applied in a broad sense to any distortion of surface image rather than restricted to works divorced throughly from representation. Such recognition is most productive, we believe, toward an avoidance of the common practice of the assignation of creative works to one camp or the other. The more refined observation of the existence of works of art along a continuum of abstraction contributes to the achievement of an understanding of the universal underpinnings of their production. Even supposedly abstract works of art, insists Mr. Rothko, are rooted in and vitalized by the sap of life arising from the beating heart of reality: "It may be that abstract art does not employ subject matter that is as obvious as either the anecdote or familiar objects, yet it must appeal to our experience in some way." Rather than the conjuring of an artist's unbridled imagination, abstraction is the manifestation of earthen tethering as the creative individual commands the complete truth-- that is, renders reality. Painting, to restate the foregoing in Mr. Rothko's words, is "a corporeal manifestation of the artist's notion of reality."

Second, we direct the thoughtful reader to the chapter on subject and subject matter. Mr. Rothko, to state his interesting analysis in brief, distinguishes between a painting's "subject matter" and its "subject." The former consists of the recognizable elements-- existing in their replication at whatever degree of distortion, as we have already seen. The latter, which the author equates with "design," is "what the artist intends in the picture." And that, to carry the matter to its end, is simply the final result of all creative labors: "The subject of a painting is the painting itself." One need stretch that proposition but a short way to deny the existence of any method save one for the successful restatement of the full content of a painting: that is the redoing of the painting. That the well constructed painting is its subject incarnate is a truism with which we will never quarrel, save to appeal for the application of this verity to the entire array of the arts. Let us recall Leonard Bernstein's statement that "the only way one can really say anything about music is to write music."

Mr. Rothko's work possesses a stylistic charm brought to the surface, we believe, by a persistent ability to marry the subtleties of reflection with an astute manipulation of the linguistic gears. Let us remind ourselves that the words of artists are to be given the greatest reverence as they represent the best image we have of the flame arising from the nexus of anvil and creative hammer. The Artist's Reality, in particular, must be recognized as resident of the very top of that heap of illuminating works which by a peculiar level of insight become Rosetta stones to the secrets of the artistic mechanism.

One of the commercial reviews indicates that this book is a "period piece" and that description probably best describes the book. It was written in a period of time long before Rothko was working his signature style and had achieved any success.

It also didn't help that the Introduction, by the late painter's son, Christopher Rothko, was unnecessarily portentious. The later parts concerning the history of the manuscripts, also written by Christopher Rothko, do tone down the excess language and are quite interesting.

The essays themselves seem incomplete, pedestrian in spots, and extremely dated. As others have noted, Rothko doesn't talk about his own work.

Who is the audience of this book? Completists? Researchers? It can't be that many people.

Something like the publicaton of Kurt Cobain's Journals in book form several years after his suicide had relevance to that artist, even if it was a bit like peeking into somebody's diary. "The Artist's Reality" has almost no relevance to most fans of Mark Rothko and certainly none to those who appreciate his more famous style of painting.