Berkeley #57 1955

Richard Diebenkorn created “Berkeley #57,” a canvas awash in ochre, verdant, and cerulean pigments. At first glance, these patches of colour may appear haphazard, but, recall landscapes from centuries past, where fields were neatly divided and mapped out by the artists. Consider the motif of the horizon, traditionally a grounding element that, here, seems to float and fragment. It reminds us of the same motif in, say, Claude Lorrain’s landscapes, where the horizon signified stability and divine order. In Diebenkorn’s hands, this line is fractured, reflecting a world where certainty has dissolved. The layering and scraping of paint echoes the geological stratification, a visual metaphor for memory and time. The absence of a clear focal point invites the viewer to wander through the painting, piecing together their own narrative. Just as our minds sift through fragmented memories to construct a coherent past, the composition, in turn, engages our subconscious, prompting a personal, emotional response. The interplay of colours and shapes evokes a sense of longing, reminiscent of a half-remembered dream. It speaks to the cyclical nature of symbols, their ability to resurface, evolve, and take on new meanings in different contexts, engaging viewers on a profoundly human level.