Achrome 1962

This *Achrome* is one of many made by Piero Manzoni using kaolin, a type of white clay, to create a surface that is almost, but not quite, blank. It looks like he started with a grid and systematically built up these little pillow shapes one by one. It's not about the colour, but more about the process, the repetition, the physicality of the material. Up close, you can see the texture, the way the clay is cracked and uneven. It's like looking at the surface of the moon, or maybe a field of freshly plowed earth. Each little lump has its own character, its own unique shape and shadow. I find my eye is drawn to the slight variations in the arrangement, the places where the grid seems to falter, where the artist's hand is most evident. Manzoni reminds me a bit of Robert Ryman, another artist obsessed with the possibilities of white paint. But while Ryman is all about the subtle nuances of the brushstroke, Manzoni is more interested in the object itself. What does it mean to make a painting that is almost nothing at all? Maybe it's a way of asking us to look more closely, to see the beauty in the everyday, the potential for meaning in the most humble of materials.