Untitled 1956

This untitled painting by Avigdor Arikha feels like a little poem, a whisper of a place made with oil on canvas. The marks are immediate, like he’s trying to catch a fleeting moment. It's like he’s wrestling with what he sees, not trying to pretty it up. There’s something so alive in the way the paint is applied. It’s thick in some places, almost sculpted, and then thinned out in others, creating this push-and-pull effect. Look at the circle near the top - is it the sun? The moon? It's just a few strokes of color, but it vibrates with energy. You can almost feel the artist’s hand moving, his eye darting, trying to make sense of the scene before him. Arikha reminds me a little of Morandi, in the way he finds endless fascination in simple, everyday forms, but with a bit more swagger. Ultimately, it's a painting that invites you to slow down, to look closely, and to find your own meaning in its textured surface.