Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue III (1967/68) by Barnett Newman, after the attack on 21 March 1986.
Is it appropriate to begin with a broken piece, with such a violent death of art?
Wir haben große Angst.
The cuts themselves are calm, assured. Almost surgical. One, two, three, a little bit of variation at the top. The wounds are not bleeding, we see bones. Teeth in a gaping mouth.
Who’s afraid of red, yellow and blue? And who’s afraid to see the truth?
The truth, that art is nothing but a frame, paints and a thin layer of canvas. What’s left behind that?
The illusion broken, tears shed, people are afraid.
They used to try very hard to capture the vivid life of red, yellow and blue with their cameras. Now only black and white in a posture of mourning.
Where have all the colours gone? They were not stripped away by the man with knife. They were not dead, but people say they were and so they were indeed.
Yet it was a beautiful death.
And then, another man killed death with a roller and house paints and called it restoration.
Who’s afraid now?