Roots 1971

Jamie Wyeth made this painting of tree roots, probably in oil, though it almost looks like a drypoint etching. I love the earthiness, the brown palette, and the way he's captured this gnarly tangle, like a brain turned inside out. The paint is thin in places, scrubbed into the canvas, and thick in others, building up the texture of the bark and soil. You can almost feel the grit under your fingers. Look at the way the roots snake across the surface, some disappearing into the darkness, others reaching out like grasping hands. It’s like Wyeth is showing us the hidden world beneath our feet, the messy, chaotic foundation upon which everything else is built. Wyeth's paintings often remind me of Lucian Freud, in the way they dig deep into the surface of things, exposing the raw, unfiltered truth. But where Freud focuses on the human form, Wyeth turns his attention to the natural world, revealing its beauty and its brutality with equal measure. Art isn't about answers, it’s about asking questions, and Wyeth asks some pretty good ones.