Untitled 1965

Rodolfo Arico made this 'Untitled' artwork with what looks like pencil and maybe gouache, and it feels like a kind of private language. There’s a grid, subtly drawn, and within it, these almost childlike shapes bumping around like they don't know what to do with themselves. That fleshy, pink lozenge shape, kind of awkwardly wedged in a corner, it almost feels embarrassed to be there. And the grey bar along the bottom is like a stage. But the marks are so casual, the colours are so muted, that they don't feel like characters so much as the residue of some kind of thinking process. I keep thinking of Cy Twombly, with his scribbles and loose, open forms. Arico's art similarly embraces a kind of vulnerability, a willingness to let the process be visible, to leave the thinking on the canvas. It’s like he's saying, “Here’s what happened when I tried to make something.” And that, in itself, is beautiful. It's also important to remember that art is not about closure or perfection, but about opening up possibilities, embracing ambiguity, and keeping the conversation going.