Micro-Painting 1968

Curator: Here we have Gene Davis's "Micro-Painting" from 1968, rendered with acrylic paint. What’s your first impression? Editor: Stark. Intimate, almost to the point of feeling like a clandestine message. The simplicity—that single, bold line cutting through the periwinkle—is oddly captivating. Is that the effect he wanted? Curator: Davis often aimed for that very immediate, sensory experience. As an abstract expressionist with modernist sensibilities, he distilled form down to pure color and line. Look closely at the... distressed edges; almost like a painter's test swatch, blown up large and venerated! Editor: Well, I think the magic lies precisely there. "Micro-Painting" forces a confrontation with the 'thingness' of painting. You can see the layers, almost feel the thickness of the acrylic. What was his relationship with industrial materials? Curator: That’s insightful. Davis appreciated the accessibility of modern acrylics. They were inexpensive and easily available compared to traditional oil paints, perfectly in keeping with a desire to break down artistic elitism. He's almost celebrating the materials. It reminds me, strangely, of certain music compositions – think Philip Glass - where simple motifs repeat to create profound, emotional resonances. Editor: Absolutely. There’s a deliberate accessibility that’s interesting in the context of the late '60s—art moving away from overt symbolism toward exploring process. Is it the 'end' of painting... or something nascent, new and emerging in material engagement? The slight imperfections become... perfections. I am left wondering, how large or small is this actually? Is there intentional deception at play here? Curator: A paradox there. It's that micro becoming macro... or is that supposed to work vice versa? Anyway, looking at the artwork again now, that's exactly where his boldness shines, even within this small piece. Editor: Precisely, these minute things matter. A celebration of art's inherent, imperfect, humanity?