16 BV 57 1957

Oskar Holweck made this stark image, 16 BV 57, with black paint on a white surface, and I can almost see it happen. One drop, then another, until they make a rhythm—a syncopated curtain of drips. I imagine Holweck, tilting the canvas, letting gravity do its thing. I feel the paint, thick enough to cling and then give way, leaving these teardrop-shaped marks. It’s a simple gesture repeated, but the variations are what make it sing. The contrast is so strong, so definite. It reminds me of Agnes Martin’s grids but with a rebellious streak. Where Martin is all about order, Holweck seems to embrace the unpredictable. These little drips, each one unique, like individuals in a crowd. It’s a conversation, right? Holweck is talking to Martin, maybe even taunting her a little. “Look what happens when you let go,” he seems to say. And that’s the beauty of painting—it’s an ongoing dialogue, a game of call and response that stretches across time.