I 1986

Brice Marden made this painting called 'I' with what looks like wax and pigment on paper. I imagine it started with soft sweeping gestures, maybe a build-up of thin layers, each one revealing or concealing what’s underneath. I get a sense of calm looking at it, thinking about Marden in his studio, searching for the right balance of color and form. I wonder if he was aiming for perfection or embracing the accidental marks and imperfections along the way. It’s like the ghost of a window or door, a portal into another dimension. The way the green rectangle is divided into three parts reminds me of Jasper Johns and his flags, or even Agnes Martin's subtle grids. There is a dialogue between the artists, across time, that quietly speaks through the layers of paint. Ultimately, it’s a testament to the power of simplicity, a reminder that sometimes the most profound statements are made with the fewest elements. Each mark, each color choice, is a conversation, an invitation to slow down and consider.