Curatorial notes
Sam Francis made this untitled painting with acrylic on canvas, sometime before he died in 1994. It’s like a jazzy improvisation, full of splatters, drips and stains, where the process feels totally out in the open. There’s something so physical about how the paint sits on the canvas: thick in some places, almost translucent in others. Look at the bottom left corner, that big blue patch. See how it bleeds into the white, leaving a ghostly trace? It feels accidental, but also intentional, like Francis was letting the paint do its own thing. Then you have that sun-yolk yellow right in the middle, solid and assertive, a real focal point. Those tiny flicks of dark paint like scattered insects are also calling to me. Francis reminds me of Joan Mitchell, another painter who wasn't afraid to make a mess and see where it leads. It's not about perfection, it's about embracing the unpredictable, letting the painting become its own thing.
