Untitled 1961

Robert Ryman’s painting is made with thick white paint on a square of textured material. Can you see the canvas peeking through? I imagine Ryman in his studio, methodically applying layer upon layer of white paint, each stroke a deliberate act of inquiry. What could he have been thinking? Maybe he was questioning the essence of painting itself, stripping away any narrative or representational elements to focus solely on the medium. Think of it as a kind of meditation on the materiality of paint and canvas. Look closely: the creamy, textural surface invites you to run your hands over it. Notice how the subtle variations in the paint's thickness catch the light, creating shadows and highlights. What do you think the exposed canvas suggests? It reminds me of Agnes Martin’s grids, where the underlying structure is just as important as what's on top. Ryman is part of an ongoing conversation about what painting can be.