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A troubled genius

When Pollock’s car careered off the road in September 1956, plunging him to his death and also killing the friend of his mistress, his wife was thousands of miles away.

She was in Paris, working on her own art and keeping well away from the turbulent marriage she had endured for 12 years.

Pollock’s troubles with alcoholism are well documented; a celebrated artist but struggling on the tightrope between genius and rock bottom.

Having been sober for much of the late 1940s, he had produced most of his best work and catapulted his way up the New York art scene.

By the early 1950s though, Pollock was stuck in a rut, personally and creatively.

In an effort to save their marriage – and to rediscover his creative mojo – he contacted The Sullivan Institute – at the time an alternative psychotherapy sprouting up in New York.

He was one of their first patients and, says author Alexander Stiller, lapped up their advice to drink as much as he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted.

Rather than save their marriage though, it sent Pollock spiralling further as he spent more time at The Cedar bar in Greenwich Village, New York, bedraggled, beer in hand and propositioning young art hopefuls.

One of whom, Ruth Kligman, became his muse, and was in the car with Pollock and her friend Edith Metzger on the night of the crash.

When the phone call was made to Paris, Krasner knew exactly what had happened and she had a choice to make.

With just $200 to her name, Krasner headed for home - and what she did next, says Hessel, “changed the way we all think about art”.

A visionary opportunist

It is not as if Krasner was inferior to her husband.

Indeed, she was a supremely talented artist in her own right, as remembered by Lillian Kiesler, registrar at the innovative Hans Hofmann School of Fine Arts.

“Walking in, she had an animal magnetism – a kind of arrogance that commands and makes waves happen,” said Kiesler. “I found her phenomenal and I still think of her that way.”

Mary Gabriel, author of Ninth Street Women about trailblazing females in the male-dominated abstract art world of the 20th century, recalls Krasner’s first appearance in public with Pollock.

“Here was this shy good-looking young man appearing at the opening of an art gallery on the arm of a supernova,” says Gabriel. “If it hadn’t been for Lee Krasner, Jackson would not have been the power he was.”

There was a time when Pollock was a nobody and Krasner was the one to watch – an artist who, in the 1930s was breaking new ground.

She conceded in a 1970s interview how frustrated she felt to have live in his shadow: “I want my independence – deal with it. I want to make my own statement. Deal with it.”

Rightly so. And behind her brilliant artist mind, lay a business-savvy opportunist. In the aftermath of her husband’s death – and with the art world shaking – she was the only one thinking clearly.

As Pollock’s sole heir and executor of his estate, she was responsible for his entire legacy. What to do with the paintings that had thrilled mid-20th Century audiences, but were in danger of ending up as wallpaper.

To find out how she “made the modern art world”, listen to Death of an Artist series two now, available on Â鶹ԼÅÄ Sounds.