Bag c. 1936

William High, who lived to be a seriously ripe old age, painted this study of bags, we don't know when and with what. I'm intrigued by the way he’s gone about building up form here, mark by mark, these aren't lines so much as accumulations, a mosaic of brushstrokes. Look how the silver pops against the dark brown of the fabric, there's a real physicality to the medium, not just in its representation, but in how it feels to look at it. I'm drawn to the small, methodical dashes that create the illusion of texture and depth. See the cascading fringe at the bottom right? Each strand is rendered with such care, such a sense of rhythm. It feels like a conversation between control and chance. It makes me think of Hilma af Klint, another artist who explored the possibilities of incremental mark making, with a similar dedication to color and form. What is art if not an ongoing dialogue across time?