If the Martha Jackson chapters had not been included, I would not have missed them. But I think their presence enhances the book rather than detracts from it. Artworks, their provenance, and their power to affect people through time, is a running motif in Horse.
I thought the juxtaposition of Jackson Pollock and Thomas Scott highlighted the disparate ways that art is created and the wide spectrum of results.
Scott paints in painstaking detail, with brushes, carefully separated paints, and primarily one subject: “All I know is horses, their muscle and bone” (p. 71).
He watched Scott fill his left hand with six or eight different brushes and wondered why so many, until he figured it: one brush for each small puddle of color to keep each tone clean and pure, unmuddied with another. He saw how Scott worked on the whole painting, not just a corner of it, dabbing here, there, farther down. Nose, back, tail. Change brush, new color. Hocks, mane, haunches. Change brush, new color. Hoof, poll, withers. Change brush, new color (p.43).
Jackson Pollock on the other hand:
The paint sailed through the air, silky and billowing, splashing onto the canvas in an emphatic diagonal…He swilled the drink and without looking slammed the glass back onto the table. It hit the edge, shattering. Martha flinched. Glass shards shimmered on the canvas. He crouched and ran his hand right over the slivers, grinding them into the paint. Blood now joined the riot of color coruscating over the black-primed linen: crimson drips and smears amid the yellow, the silver, the filaments of white. And slashing across it all, the march of those aggressive blue exclamations.
Pollock’s paintings would have been dismissed as ludicrous in 1850, and Scott’s work was relegated to a trash heap in 2019. Scott is pretty mellow and Pollock is full of “violent theatrics.” But at their creative core, maybe they’re not so different. Martha observes of Pollock’s painting: "What had seemed out of control and random was nothing of the sort. The painting was tightly composed, a movement from the dark ground of the primer up through the agitation of color and line.”
Jarret has a similar feeling when he watches Scott’s painting take shape: “He saw how for Glacier’s white coat, Scott used barely any white at all, but pinks and mauves and lively grays in pale washes, layer after layer. Yet in the end, a white horse stood there: Glacier, looking fly.”