Milkweed 1929

Charles Burchfield’s *Milkweed* conjures a whole world with brown, white and purple gouache. The marks feel deliberate, considered. He’s not just slapping paint on, he’s thinking, "what does it mean to make a mark that signifies foliage, that signifies a bird?" I love the material flatness here. He's not trying to fool us into thinking this is real space. He’s using color and shape in a way that feels symbolic, even emotional. Like the way he lets that pale lavender bleed out into the background, and then hits you with those stark white seed pods. It's like a visual shout. And the birds, rendered with this kind of stripy, almost woodcut-like texture, are so present, so alive! They are both grounded in and standing apart from the background. There is something in Burchfield's vision of nature that has always resonated with me, like Georgia O’Keefe, he reminds us that painting is a conversation, each artist adding their voice to the mix. There's no right or wrong way, just different ways of seeing, feeling, and shouting into the void.