My First Steps in the Hell 1947

Endre Rozsda dove right into it with this painting, plunging into a swirl of blues and reds. I can almost feel him, wrestling with the canvas, trying to pin down the form. It’s like he’s conjuring something up from the depths of his imagination. The paint’s thick in places, all clotted and chunky, and then thin and watery in others, like he's pushing it around, smearing it, coaxing it into life. Look at that stroke of turquoise, how it cuts through the center. It’s so bold, so confident, it feels like a shout. I wonder what he was thinking when he made this? Was he scared? Exhilarated? Maybe a little bit of both? The title suggests turmoil and exploration, a personal mythology that is just his. It makes me think of other visionaries, like Hilma af Klint, who painted her own worlds. We all stand on the shoulders of giants, don’t we? This painting reminds us that the conversation never really ends.