Untitled 1955

Editor: Here we have Mark Rothko’s “Untitled,” painted in 1955 using oil on canvas. It's dominated by these two soft rectangles, a pale cream over a kind of muted terracotta. I find it incredibly calming, almost meditative. What do you see in it? Curator: Calming is a lovely word for it. When I stand before this, I feel an invitation to enter a space of pure sensation. Rothko isn’t presenting us with objects, but rather with fields of color that seem to vibrate and breathe. Notice how the edges of those rectangles aren't sharp; they bleed into one another and the surrounding ground. Editor: Yes, it’s like they're not really contained. It almost feels like looking at pure feeling. Curator: Exactly! Rothko wanted to evoke profound emotions, a sense of the sublime, even tragedy. He believed color could speak directly to our souls, bypassing the intellect. What do you make of the terracotta color? Editor: It feels earthy, almost like it’s grounding the paler shade above it. Does the color combination affect how you view it? Curator: It does! The interplay is everything. Rothko carefully layered thin washes of paint, creating luminous surfaces. This luminosity imbues them with a spiritual quality. Some believe that Rothko meant to create a kind of contemporary icon for contemplation. Do you feel like it achieves that effect? Editor: I think it might. Standing here, I can feel my breathing slow down, my thoughts quieten. Curator: Rothko aspired to communicate something fundamental about the human condition. Color, form, space: all used as portals into emotional landscapes. I find I get lost inside of those luminous depths, with a feeling that reminds me of visiting a grand cathedral. Editor: I can understand that. It's more than just paint on canvas, isn’t it? It is like staring at an idea made material. Curator: Beautifully put. And isn't that the magic of art? It holds up a mirror, and allows us to see ourselves in its reflection.