Untitled 1973

This is a painting by Joan Mitchell, those luscious strokes, the feeling of trial and error, like a site of inquiry for both her and us. I can almost see Joan, brush in hand, circling, diving, layering those colours, a conversation between blues, yellows, oranges, and pinks – a symphony of feeling. It's not just about what she saw, but how she felt, pushing and pulling the paint, each stroke a question, an answer, a new beginning. I see a dialogue with the likes of de Kooning, another painter who wasn't afraid to let the messiness of life seep into his canvases, but Mitchell's touch is all her own. These gestures are so physical, so immediate. A big blot of blue, a swipe of yellow, each mark laden with intention, but open to interpretation. Painting is always ambiguous and uncertain, yet the conversation keeps going, across time, across studios, and now, here with us.