I can think of no finer example of the irrelevance of pedigree and artist's statements than DeKooning's late work. I liked much of his early work, but late in life, at which point by all accounts he had deteriorated into a shuffling muttering puddle of senility, the tangled gobby marshes gave way to such clear soaring gorgeousness, so simple, so stunning. Of course the Arte World fell all over itself deciding whether or not to take these seriously. Who cares if a five year old or an elephant made this; if you can't see that it's perfect then you're not qualified to comment.
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