The shadow and the light: How not to burn your wings buying abstract expressionism

Abstract expressionism isn’t just an artistic movement. It’s a silent revolution, born in the anxiety of the postwar era, where every canvas carries the traces of a time when America finally dared to speak in its own voice. But today, that language has become a currency, a financial asset, a playground for con artists. And if even the world’s greatest museums have been fooled, how can you—a passionate collector or a shrewd investor—avoid the pitfalls?

01When New York became the new Paris

You have to go back to the winter of 1946 to understand. The war had just ended, and New York was teeming with European artists in exile. Breton, Ernst, Mondrian—all had fled Europe, bringing in their suitcases the last gasps of surrealism and cubism. But it was in the overheated studios of Greenwich Village that something new began to take shape. One December evening, in Peggy Guggenheim’s apartment, Jackson Pollock—then unknown—unrolled a monumental canvas on the floor. He no longer painted with brushes, but with his entire body, flinging paint like a drunken dancer. A few streets away, Mark Rothko layered reds and oranges until the canvas seemed to radiate from within. And Willem de Kooning slashed at his canvases with almost carnal violence, as if he wanted to peel back the skin of the painting.

What was happening then wasn’t just a matter of style. It was a geopolitical battle. In the heart of the Cold War, the CIA saw in these chaotic canvases an ideological weapon. Abstraction, they believed in Washington, was the perfect symbol of individual freedom against Soviet socialist realism. Exhibitions were secretly funded, catalogs printed in Eastern Europe. Art became a weapon, and the artists, unwittingly, soldiers in a cultural war.

But behind this heroic facade lay a murkier reality. New York galleries, like Betty Parsons’, were centers of power where fragile alliances were forged. Critics, led by Clement Greenberg, became arbiters of taste, capable of making or breaking a career with a single article. And collectors, like the de Menils and the Rockefellers, weren’t just buying paintings—they were buying a piece of American history. In this context, how do you tell an authentic work from a brilliant fake? The answer isn’t just in the archives, but in the tiniest details: the texture of a layer of paint, the wear of a canvas, the acrid smell of linseed oil that sometimes lingers for decades.

02The gesture and the material: what the canvases don’t say

Take Number 1A, 1948 by Pollock. At first glance, it’s a chaos of black, white, and yellow lines, an entanglement that seems born of chance. Yet if you bring your face just inches from the canvas, you’ll notice something strange. The paint traces aren’t uniform. Some drips are thick, almost in relief, as if Pollock had squeezed the tube directly onto the canvas. Others are so fine they resemble spiderwebs. And then there are those faint fingerprints, nearly erased, where the artist had gripped the canvas to move it.

It’s in these details that the truth lies. Pollock didn’t paint with traditional brushes. He used sticks, syringes, gardening tools. His paint wasn’t classic oil, but industrial enamel—a cheap product he bought at the local hardware store. And most importantly, he worked on the floor, circling the canvas like a shaman around a fire. If you come across a "Pollock" where the drips are too regular, where the paint seems applied with a brush, run. A real Pollock is a battlefield, not a neatly composed score.

Rothko, on the other hand, is Pollock’s opposite. Where one is chaos, the other is meditation. His color rectangles aren’t painted—they’re constructed, layer by layer, like a mason building a wall. Run your hand (carefully) near a Rothko, and you’ll almost feel the heat radiating from it. It’s not an illusion. His colors seem to glow because they’re made of dozens of glazes, each thinner than the last. A forger can imitate the colors, but never that depth. And then there are those blurred edges, those almost imperceptible transitions between tones. Rothko hated sharp contours. To him, a straight line was a betrayal.

As for de Kooning, his canvases are palimpsests. Beneath every Woman lie dozens of earlier versions, scraped, repainted, erased. The MoMA conservators spent months X-raying Woman I to uncover, beneath the grotesque and sensual figure, traces of a previous composition. A fake de Kooning will have lines that are too clean, a surface that’s too smooth. The original bears the scars of its creation.

03The shadows of the market: when art becomes currency

In 2011, the Knoedler Gallery, one of New York’s oldest, shut its doors in scandal. For fifteen years, it had sold over $80 million worth of fake Pollocks, Rothkos, and de Koonings. The mastermind? A Chinese painter from Queens, Pei-Shen Qian, who reproduced the canvases in his garage with diabolical precision. Buyers—among them wealthy collectors and museums—saw nothing amiss. Until an expert noticed a troubling detail: the pigments used dated from the 1970s, while the canvases were supposedly painted in the 1950s.

This case isn’t isolated. The abstract expressionist market is a minefield. The stratospheric prices attract con artists like moths to a flame. And the artists’ heirs, often in conflict, complicate matters further. The Pollock-Krasner Foundation, for example, refuses to authenticate certain works, casting doubt on their legitimacy. The result? Paintings remain locked in vaults, their value fluctuating with the rumors.

But the real danger isn’t always where you’d expect. Sometimes, it’s an insignificant detail that gives the fake away. A savvy collector once told me the story of a Rothko attributed to the artist, bought for several million. Everything seemed perfect: the provenance, the colors, the signature. Until a restorer noticed the canvas was stretched on an aluminum frame—a material that didn’t exist in the 1950s. The painting was a fake, and the seller, a fraud.

04The heirs and the ghosts: when history complicates authenticity

The story of abstract expressionism is also one of broken families. Take Lee Krasner, Pollock’s widow. After her husband’s death in 1956, she spent years managing his estate, fighting forgers and unscrupulous dealers. But in the 1980s, she clashed with the foundation bearing their names, refusing to authenticate certain works. The result? Dozens of paintings remained in legal limbo, their value uncertain.

With Rothko, the situation is even more tragic. After his suicide in 1970, his children fought over control of his work. His daughter, Kate, accused her brother Christopher of selling paintings without her consent. Lawsuits followed, works were seized, and the market was shaken. Even today, some Rothkos bear the label "attributed to"—a euphemism for no one really knowing if they’re authentic.

And then there are the lost, stolen, or simply forgotten works. In 2017, a Pollock resurfaced in a Texas storage unit. It had been there for decades, rolled up in a corner, no one realizing it was worth millions. How could they be sure it wasn’t a fake? Experts examined the pigments, the canvas fibers, the dust traces. But sometimes, even science isn’t enough. You also need a bit of intuition—that shiver you feel before an authentic canvas, as if the artist’s spirit still lingers in the air.

05How to buy without being fooled: the golden rules

If you’re considering acquiring an abstract expressionist work, here’s what you need to know.

First, beware of bargains. A Rothko for $500,000? A Pollock for $200,000? It’s too good to be true. Major works sell for millions, and even secondary pieces cost hundreds of thousands. If a seller offers you a "deal," walk away.

Next, demand impeccable provenance. A painting without a history is a suspicious painting. Authentic works have usually been exhibited in reputable galleries (Betty Parsons, Sidney Janis, Peggy Guggenheim) or museums. They’ve often been photographed, cataloged, studied. If the seller can’t provide this information, move on.

Then, consult experts. The Pollock-Krasner, Rothko, and de Kooning foundations can authenticate a work. But be careful: their opinions aren’t infallible. In 2003, the Pollock-Krasner Foundation refused to authenticate a painting that later turned out to be genuine. Expertise is an imperfect science.

Finally, examine the canvas closely. Fakes often have flaws invisible to the naked eye: modern pigments, a canvas that’s too new, lines that are too regular. A real Pollock is organized chaos. A real Rothko radiates from within. A real de Kooning bears the scars of its creation.

06The alternatives: when the big names become out of reach

If the prices of Pollocks and Rothkos make you dizzy, know that there are equally fascinating alternatives. Second-generation abstract expressionists like Joan Mitchell, Helen Frankenthaler, and Clyfford Still offer exceptional works at much more accessible prices.

Mitchell, for example, is a major artist whose canvases can still be found between $500,000 and $5 million. Her compositions, inspired by landscapes and emotions, are of rare intensity. Frankenthaler invented the "soak-stain" technique, where paint is poured onto unprimed canvas, creating unique effects of transparency and fluidity. And Still, with his large swaths of dark color, offers a more somber, meditative alternative to Rothko.

These artists were overshadowed by the movement’s giants, but their work is just as compelling. And then there are the lesser-known figures, like Philip Guston or Robert Motherwell, whose works are beginning to appreciate. Buying a painting by these artists isn’t just an investment—it’s participating in the rediscovery of a neglected chapter in art history.

07The art of patience: when a work chooses you

One day, in a small Chelsea gallery, I met a collector who told me his story. He’d been searching for a Rothko for years, without success. The prices were too high, the fakes too numerous. Then, one day, he came across a small canvas at a local auction. It wasn’t signed, but something about it drew him in. He bought it for a few thousand dollars, without much hope.

Years later, after expert evaluations and research, he discovered it was an early Rothko, painted in the 1940s. It wasn’t worth millions, but it had an priceless value: that of an encounter, a coup de foudre.

This story illustrates a truth often forgotten: in art, as in love, you don’t always do the choosing. Sometimes, the work chooses you. And when that happens, you have to trust your instinct, even if the experts shrug.

08The last word: why abstract expressionism endures

More than seventy years after its birth, abstract expressionism continues to fascinate. Its canvases, once considered scandalous, now hang in the world’s greatest museums. Its prices break records, its fakes make headlines, and its heirs still fight over its legacy.

Why does this movement endure? Perhaps because it captured the essence of an era: the postwar anxiety, the search for meaning in a broken world, the desire for freedom against dogma. Or perhaps because its paintings, despite their abstraction, speak to something deeply human. A Pollock is a battlefield. A Rothko is a prayer. A de Kooning is a cry.

And that may be the secret. Behind the millions, the fakes, and the scandals, these canvases remain—silent and powerful—still speaking to us. It’s up to us to listen.