Bedroom in Aintmillerstrasse 1909

Wassily Kandinsky daubed this painting, Bedroom in Aintmillerstrasse, with oil on canvas. It's a riot of colour, those optimistic oranges and pinks, but there’s also a lot of darkness. I can imagine Kandinsky starting with the bed, a sturdy block of orange, then letting the room emerge around it, a kind of fever dream of domesticity. Look at the window—it's not just a window, it’s a portal to another world, framed by those hot, theatrical curtains. And that little table, piled high with…stuff. Is it a still life in dialogue with the furniture? The paint is so thick, you can almost feel the artist’s hand moving, pushing, and coaxing the scene into being. I’m sure Kandinsky, in his own way, was as much a colourist as Matisse, as much interested in line as Klee, as much a mystic as Hilma af Klint. Artists borrow, steal, and riff off each other. We are all, in the end, having a conversation, and that's what painting is all about.