In 1953 Robert Rauschenberg erased a drawing that had been given to him by Willem de Kooning, the then widely popular Abstract Expressionist. As I sat here thinking about the United States’ reduced credit rating, the current retrograde motion of Mercury, and my own work tonight, this piece came to mind. It is written about as a rebellious act of defiance on Rauschenberg’s part, a big F U to the dominant Ab Exers of the 1950s artworld. Not having done the research myself, I can’t say whether it was intended to be spiteful or not, but instead a punkish gesture I see it as clearing the air, a return to the tabula rasa. In the early 1950s, I imagine Bob as an earnest young artist at the dawn of his career, standing on the threshold between the footsteps of others and his own path.  He is then at a point when he needs to get past what the giants before him have done…so he erases. He removes the graphite, the marks, de Kooning’s hand. It’s a ground zero and an opportunity for a new beginning.

I feel as if we, the whole nation, are now standing at that same point. We are on a threshold between beating the same drum we have for the last 50+ years or starting on a new path. Unfortunately, our hand has been forced by outside entities, and the erasing isn’t done with purpose, plan and intention, but by external credit rating. And because we didn’t plan for it, we may be in for some rough adjustments. As the planet Mercury appears to move backwards across the sky (“Mercury retrograde”) we are given an opportunity–whether we like it or not–to edit. Hitting the backspace key can clear the room for new ideas, positive changes, and growth. I have hope, however, that a new broom will sweep clean, perhaps we will be able to correct some of the major problems with our government and financial systems if we are forced to start from scratch.

In the nineteenth century that phrase referred to the mark scratched on the ground from which sporting events like races would start from. Rather than it’s common use today, the older meaning didn’t mean to start from nothing, just the same as Rauschenberg didn’t really start from nothing either. On closer inspection of his drawing, one can still see the faint lines of what was laid down before. In addition, when he presented this work, de Kooning’s name was part of the title, thus the meaning of the work was very much still dependent on Rauschenberg’s artistic elder. And as we know from New York City, a ground zero is never an empty space, but forever carries the weight of the absence of what was there before. Rather than an Atlas’ burden however, the weight of history grounds us, supplying a starting point. As most artists and authors know, a completely blank page is a daunting place to be.