Untitled 1969

Mark Rothko made this painting with oil, probably on a large canvas, and at a scale meant to envelop you. Look at the hazy rectangles of muted browns and grays hovering on the canvas. I imagine Rothko in his studio, wrestling with the canvas, layering colors and textures, pushing and pulling until those edges begin to vibrate. I can imagine him stepping back, squinting, and feeling his way toward something ineffable. There's a tenderness here, a vulnerability in those blurred edges that feels deeply human. The paint isn't thick; it's applied in thin washes, allowing light to penetrate the surface. Rothko invites us to slow down and contemplate, and I think that his work opened up painting, and still does, to a more expansive vocabulary of expression. He showed later painters that paintings can be about big feelings but with simple means.