Untitled 1950s

William Baziotes made this untitled ink on paper drawing sometime in the mid twentieth century. The lines feel like they just sprang into being, so free and untethered. Look at how Baziotes lets the ink meander across the page, like a playful spider web spun by an existentialist arachnid. I can almost see him hunched over this piece, cigarette dangling from his lip, muttering to himself, chasing the forms as they emerged. There is something so vulnerable about a line drawing. No place to hide, no room for error! I wonder if Baziotes knew what he was looking for when he started, or if he just let his hand lead the way, each stroke answering the one before. It reminds me of some of Picasso's line drawings. This drawing feels like a little poem, whispered from one artist to another across time. Isn't it lovely?