Untitled 1988

Aki Kuroda made this untitled painting with ultramarine blue paint on what looks like a white canvas or paper. Imagine Kuroda standing, brush in hand, circling the edges, letting pools of blue define shapes. The white showing through isn’t nothing; it's as much a part of the painting as the blue. Maybe he was thinking about how we see or how emptiness can be full of potential. There’s a funny little splodge in the middle, like a misplaced period. It makes you wonder, what’s the key to all this? How much is accident, how much is design? I like how the blue, thin in some places, reveals the surface and makes the whole thing feel very immediate. It feels like looking at the beginning of a thought, which is a place I visit often in my own work, and I wonder whether this is where some of the best art happens. Painters have been having this conversation forever. What do you leave in, what do you take out? How much do you say? How much do you imply?