Again, Hugh, you're responding to me like a clownish oaf. But go ahead, if you feel it suits you.
Now you are talking about something well outside the scope of your limited and claustrophobic knowledge base. It matters
not at all in this context how Pollacks career was marketed, or even if Clement Greenberg was a spook (which is highly debatable). The painting itself transcended all that, and continues to, manifesting on canvas the very shape of culture itself, and changing how the world could actually be thought of for generations of individuals well outside the care of the small reaches of Mockingbird. You'll be hard pressed to make the same boring argument about de Chirico, or Nijinsky, or Beardsley, or Poulenc, or Lennon, or Beckett, or Joyce, or any of hundreds of other artists or writers I could name whose influence
as single individuals cast shadows across man's thinking that make the CIA's scrawny efforts resemble those of a flea. When the CIA promoted Pollack as a imager of the modern world, they played with the fire of true inspiration and genius, and got burned.
I know people here are always criticizing you for your lack of appreciation of art, and they have a point. This little painting alone, not withstanding the entirety of the artist's output, much less the import of the art movements he was allied with, has shaped culture and thought across the globe in ways that the CIA could only dream of:
Have you ever seen it before? How many times?
That you would contrast Pollack's work with the provicialism of Siqueiros or Diego Rivera, whose own output is immensely overshadowed by the work of his wife, just underlines the limits of your thought otuside of the narrow boundries apparently available to you. Pollack did social realism himself under the WPA before he outgrew the limitations it afforded his genius. Comapre his work sometime with your little file of movie posters.
Get over yourself. There's a whole world of culture outside of tee vee and movies and magazines, massively larger and more pervasive in terms of ideas and power. The sheer beauty of a field of blooming lilies seen from a train window makes all of Mockingbird a gimping sham. The world's breathtaking beauty will tear you a new pineal gland. Try it sometime.
Art does not fuck around, and has proven throughout the ages time and again its ability to surpass the small minds of history's nameless bureaucrats attempting to control it. Good luck with that.