Untitled 1978

Edward Avedisian made this painting—we don't know exactly when—with thick strokes and drippy bits of paint. Imagine him, standing there, maybe even dancing, brush in hand, feeling the joy of laying color on color. I love how he's not precious about it. There's a real physicality to the medium here. The texture, the way the colors bump up against each other, how the red drips hang, it's like a snapshot of pure energy. See that vertical red mark? It's not just a line; it’s a statement, a feeling, a pulse. Avedisian, like many of us painters, was probably in conversation with the abstract expressionists, but he's doing his own thing, finding his own voice in the chaos. It’s a reminder that painting is a living, breathing thing. We're all just adding our own marks to the ongoing story.