Untitled 1967

This monochrome drawing was made by Vilen Barsky. The ink has bled into the paper, creating soft, blurry edges, like memories fading over time. I can imagine Barsky hunched over this work, maybe in a small room, the light dim. He’s coaxing the ink, watching it bloom and spread, surrendering some control. There’s a figure here, maybe seated, maybe burdened. The hands are clasped, or perhaps they are gnarled roots. Is that a face peering out from the inky depths? The texture is granular, almost like sand, giving the piece a tactile quality. It reminds me a little of the surrealist automatism, where artists let the hand move freely to tap into the subconscious. There’s a vulnerability here. It feels like Barsky is inviting us into a very personal space, and that's what painters do, isn't it? We share. We steal. We connect through time.