Dear simpleton, OK, it's funny. Hell, it's very funny. But then, art is funny. Have you seen the Pollack show at MOMA? First of all, the show is an incredible draw. On a dreary midweek afternoon in January, months after the show opened and the tourists had, one would think, gone home, the lines are long. Very long. Major argument for becoming a member of MOMA, and don't they know it. Never mind. I'm not a member but I sleep with one, so I slip in the short line. You go in the long way. The show is worth it. Smack dab in the middle are the drip paintings, and nothing more beautiful has ever been seen. Even the usual suspects who normally would be whining that their kid could do better are in stunned silence. This is seriously wonderful art. Which brings us to the point: Where did it come from? The show is meticulous in this regard. It shows Pollack's earlier work; more of it, in fact, than one would need to see. You see competent second rate rehashes of better art--Picasso, Miro, Matisse, even van Gogh and Gaughan of all people. You see an artist very slowly struggling to find something of his own to say. You see him discovering that something else. And then, a miracle happens. That "something of his own" he had to so slowly find is combined with a new style of painting. He's still not a very interesting painter; he still hasn't much to say; and his new technique really isn't very subtle. Yet the combination is incredible. The great art ends after about 5 years. People blame it on the booze or depression or both, but the fact is he ran out of things to say that could be said in that way...he really wasn't all that much of an artist. Not really. And then he died, and probably better to burn than to sputter. But those five or so years! Little he did before or after prepares you for them. Incredible. I have a theory. It is my carefully considered scientific belief that one day, about 1942 or so, God tapped Jackson Pollack on the shoulder. And then, some years later, God went away. No other explanation fits the facts. Think what it must have been like for Pollack. He wasn't an ignorant man, and he knew his art and art history. He surely knew perfectly well how wonderful what he suddenly produced was, and how it shone above what he did before...and what he did after. What must it have been to live during the days when God was on your shoulder...and what must it have been to live when God went away. Light a candle (or a cigarette) for his soul in front of a painting of the blessed Virgin, and ask yourself if you really would like it if God touched you, however briefly, on the shoulder. Alan Kornheiser ASKORNHEISER@prodigy.net

Dear Alan, I won't cheapen your glowing letter with a one-off response. But I have been fascinated by the apprentice work of people who go on to invent whole new styles of art. I first noticed this in high school, when I realized a friend of mine, who was every inch a shlub like me, could paint like Max Beckmann. I figured from there he had nowhere to go but into Braquean innovation, but as it turned out he ended up making grilled cheese sandwiches to sell at Dead shows. Which in its way was a whole new style of art. Sincerely, Tim

February 5: The West Pembroke HobNob

Dear simpleton: Quite an exceptional piece your Hob-Nob story. I was kind of surprised by the content. The humor was kind of crude and that was kind of refreshing but I would guess that you will receive many unfavorable emails. Is this a one-off of sorts or do you plan to re-use this recipe for low-brow high-jinks? yr stout-livered pal, H' henry@novomedia.com

Dear Henry, As it turns out, yours was the only response I got on that thing. Thinking that this was one of simpleton's best efforts in a long time, I had been expecting voluminous mail. But it never came. The fact that I can't seem to tell which ones are good probably explains all the letters in today's column. yr pal, Tim

Send word to simpleton Previously in simpleton: February 16, 1999: The Booze Liberation Page Hemping for a drink February 15, 1999: George X Our First President not fully appreciated February 12, 1999: Love from Unkie Valentine's Day drivel February 10, 1999: Dear simpleton Reader mail: Volume 26 February 9, 1999: The Tragedy of Macbeth Act II February 8, 1999: Ars Longa Est Mechanical reproduction through the ages February 5, 1999: The West Pembroke Hobnob An Attitude for Snootstown's best A century of simpletons in the simpleton archive. Find an almost-total listing of Tim's outside works in The Compleat Simpleton. Wankers of Arabia New readers are invited to join the simpleton mailing list announcement of new features and attractions, along with value-added commentary from the simpleton staff, which is not available in stores! To get on the simpletonians mailing list: 1) Send email to majordomo@freedonia.com 2) Write the following message (and nothing else) in the body of your email: subscribe simpletonians 3) Press "Send" on your email. Now you are subscribed to the simpletonians mailing list. If you have trouble following these instructions, email me and I'll add you to the list. Tomorrow: More found objects http://www.simpleton.com