In the modern mind the circumstance of Jewishness has been burdened with many questionable associations, particularly in the arts. Although Harold Rosenberg writes that, "in regard to art, being Jewish appears to be no more than an accident,"1 vulgar associations of Jews with art stubbornly subsist, an extreme example being Nixon's "now the worst thing is to go to anything that has to do with the arts . . . the arts, you know—they're Jews, they're left wing—in other words, stay (...) away. . . ."2 Despite the recurrence of such cloudy associations, the issue has remained curiously submerged. It is commonplace in our century to find a kind of reflexive yoking of Jews with art, particularly avant-garde art. The incalculable effects of such attitudes on modern art itself are rarely weighted. Accidental as the Jewish artist may be in his own view, he remains a somewhat suspect accident in the eyes of others. Can we continue to regard the fact of being a modern Jewish artist as "accidental," or is there a significant context which must be acknowledged? · 1. Harold Rosenberg, "Jews in Art," The New Yorker, 22 December 1975.· 2. Nixon to Haldeman: Watergate tapes, Newsweek, 19 August 1974. Dore Ashton, professor of art history at The Cooper Union, has served as the curator of art exhibitions both in the United States and abroad and as an art critic for The New York Times. She is author of, among others,Art Before Columbus, Poets and the Past, The Unknown Shore, A Reading of Modern Art, The New York School: A Cultural Reckoning, and Yes But...A Critical Study of Philip Guston. She has also contributed "On Harold Rosenberg" to Critical Inquiry. (shrink)

Rosenberg was a chronicler and a good one, yet much of his inner dialogue was not with the present so much as the omnipresent artistic past. The central question, posed early in his life, concerned a man's individuality. Dostoyevsky had called it his "dearest" possession. At no time, even in his Marxist youth, did Rosenberg relinquish his vision of the individual as the central, most important player in any drama. Rosenberg was positively possessed with Dostoyevsky's doubts. One can hear the (...) rant of the man from the underground repeatedly in Rosenberg's written works—the stubborn hero who maintains the right even to be absurd and to "desire for himself what is positively harmful and stupid" if he claims it as a right. The right of the individual to live up to man's nature which, as Dostoyevsky said, "acts as one whole, with everything in it, conscious or unconscious" was Rosenberg's most consistent ideal. The individual he most admired, both in himself and in others, was the artist. But only in spite of everything. No one was more alert to the tartufferie that bedevils the world of the artist. Rosenberg craved sincerity with the same kind of passion for it he had found in Dostoyevsky. Art and artifact would not be a substitute for ethics and hard thought. Rosenberg's deepest conviction is revealed in his 1960 essay, "Literary Form and Social Hallucination," which begins with Dostoyevsky complaining about literature that does not lead to truth. Dore Ashton, professor of art history at The Cooper Union, is the author of numerous works, includingArt Before Columbus, Poets and the Past, A Reading Of Modern Art, and, most recently, A Fable of Modern Art. Her previous contribution to Critical Inquiry, "No More than an Accident?" appeared in the Winter 1976 issue. (shrink)