Kelly 1965

Sidney Nolan made this ‘Kelly’ print sometime in the 20th century, and, right away, I’m struck by its bold approach to form and color. There’s this back and forth between the flat and the textured, the controlled and the chaotic, which is very much what artmaking is all about, isn’t it? The ochre background is a flat, muted foil for the raw, energetic marks that make up Kelly’s figure. Look at the head—it’s this boxy, almost mask-like shape, filled with scribbles and layers of red, white, and purple. There’s a real physicality to it; you can almost feel the pressure of Nolan’s hand as he laid down those lines. Then, moving down to the body, the red paint seems to bleed and flow, creating a sense of movement and vulnerability. Thinking about other artists, someone like Francis Bacon comes to mind—that same interest in the raw, human form, distorted and reconfigured through paint. But what’s great is that Nolan takes these ideas and makes them entirely his own.