You’ve probably seen it. Maybe on a postcard, or a poster in a college dorm, or perhaps you’ve actually stood in front of it at the National Gallery of Art in D.C. It looks like a chaotic explosion of tangled webs. To some, it’s a masterpiece that redefined the 20th century. To others, it looks like something a toddler could do with a bucket of house paint and a sugar rush. But Number 1, 1950, also known as Lavender Mist, isn't just a "splatter painting." It is the moment Jackson Pollock basically broke the rules of Western art forever.
He didn't use a brush. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. He used sticks, trowels, and even basting syringes. He laid the canvas on the floor. Think about that for a second. For centuries, painters stood before an easel like it was a window. Pollock treated the floor like a territory. He moved around it. He danced.
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What’s Actually Happening Inside Number 1, 1950
Despite the name "Lavender Mist," there isn't actually any lavender paint in the piece. That’s the first thing that catches people off guard. The title was actually suggested by Clement Greenberg, the powerhouse art critic of the era who basically acted as Pollock's hype man. The "lavender" effect is an optical illusion created by the frantic layering of black, white, russet, orange, silver, and blue industrial paints. When those colors strike your eye simultaneously, they vibrate. Your brain interprets that vibration as a soft, hazy mauve.
It’s massive. Roughly seven feet tall and ten feet wide. When you stand close, the scale is overwhelming. You aren't looking at a picture of something; you are looking at the physical record of a human being’s movement through space. This is what critics like Harold Rosenberg called "Action Painting." The canvas was an arena.
The aluminum paint secret
If you look closely at the surface of Number 1, 1950, you’ll see these shimmering, metallic veins. Pollock used aluminum paint—the kind of stuff you’d find in a hardware store, not an art supply shop. This was a radical move. He wanted the texture of the real world. He wanted the grit of 1950s America, not the polished traditions of the European Renaissance. He also threw in bits of sand and glass to give the surface a physical weight. It’s heavy. It’s tactile. Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle the paint hasn't all flaked off after seven decades.
Why 1950 was the tipping point
By the time Pollock laid down the first drips of Number 1, 1950, he was at the absolute peak of his powers. He had just come off the back of a Life magazine profile that asked, "Is he the greatest living painter in the United States?" It was a loaded question. He was under immense pressure.
Earlier works from the 1940s were more aggressive, almost violent. But by 1950, something changed. There is a balance in Lavender Mist that he never quite replicated. It feels orchestrated. It’s controlled chaos. Most people assume he just threw paint randomly, but if you watch the Hans Namuth films of Pollock working, you see a man in a trance. He knew exactly where the drips were landing. He was controlling the viscosity of the paint by how fast he moved his arm.
The myth of "Anyone could do this"
We’ve all heard it. "My kid could paint that."
Sure. Maybe. But they didn't.
What makes Number 1, 1950 different from a random mess is the fractal nature of the lines. Physicists have actually studied Pollock’s drip patterns and found that they follow complex mathematical structures known as fractals—patterns that repeat at different scales, similar to how a coastline or a tree branch looks. Pollock was tapping into a natural rhythm. He was mimicking the way nature organizes itself. You can’t really fake that with a random splash. There’s a density to the "web" in this painting that feels structurally sound, like a bridge made of light and shadow.
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The National Gallery and the $30,000 bargain
It’s wild to think about now, but the National Gallery of Art didn't acquire the painting until 1976. They bought it from the estate of collector Alfonso Ossorio for about $2 million. At the time, it was a record-breaking price for an American work of art. People lost their minds. They thought the museum was wasting public money on "wallpaper."
Today? It’s priceless. If Number 1, 1950 ever hit the auction block in the current market, we’d be talking hundreds of millions of dollars. It is the crown jewel of their modern collection.
How to actually "look" at a Pollock
Most people walk up to the painting, look for a hidden shape—a face, a bird, a tree—and when they don't find one, they get frustrated and walk away. That’s the wrong way to do it.
Try this instead:
- Stop searching for things. It isn't a puzzle.
- Focus on the edges. Notice how the paint doesn't just stop; it loops back.
- Trace one color. Pick the white lines and follow them with your eyes across the whole ten feet. Then do it with the black. You’ll start to feel the speed of his hand.
- Stand back. Way back. Let the colors blend into that "lavender" haze.
The legacy of the drip
Pollock’s 1950 period was short-lived. By 1951, he was moving away from the "all-over" style and back into "Black Paintings," which were much darker and more figurative. He was struggling with alcoholism again. The lightness and atmospheric beauty of Number 1, 1950 represent a brief window of clarity for a very troubled man.
He wasn't just making art; he was changing the definition of what art could be. He proved that the process of making the thing—the sweat, the movement, the gravity—could be just as important as the final image. He paved the way for every performance artist, every abstract expressionist, and every street artist who came after him.
Actionable insights for art lovers
If you want to truly appreciate the depth of this work, there are a few things you can do right now.
First, check out the digital archives of the National Gallery of Art. They have high-resolution zoom tools that let you see the individual grains of sand embedded in the paint of Number 1, 1950. It changes how you perceive the "flatness" of the work.
Second, if you're ever in East Hampton, New York, visit the Pollock-Krasner House and Studio. You can actually walk on the floor where he painted this. You’ll see the original paint splatters on the floorboards that didn't make it onto the canvas. Seeing the actual space—it's tiny, by the way—makes the massive scale of Lavender Mist even more impressive.
Lastly, read Jackson Pollock: An American Saga by Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith. It’s a beast of a book, but it provides the grit and context behind why he was painting this way in 1950. It wasn't just an aesthetic choice; it was an emotional necessity.
Understanding Pollock isn't about "getting it." It’s about feeling the energy of a specific moment in 1950 when a guy in a barn in Long Island decided that the old way of painting was dead. He didn't just paint a picture; he recorded a dance.