Harry Hoehn made this monochrome print called Hera sometime in the mid twentieth century. What I see is a real tension between order and chaos, maybe that’s the Hera connection! The mark-making is fascinating, these vertical striations with a cluster of more angular lines in the center. The texture! I imagine he built it up with countless passes, a meditative accumulation of lines. It feels like a very physical process, a dialogue between the artist's hand and the surface of the plate. That central cluster of lines feels almost like a hinge, connecting the left and right sides of the composition. It's a focal point, but also a point of disruption, breaking up the relentless verticality of the piece. You know, it almost reminds me of some of Agnes Martin's quieter, more introspective grids, though with a very different sensibility. Anyway, it’s a very particular kind of poetry.