Summer 1972

Editor: So, this is Jennifer Bartlett’s “Summer” from 1972. It's made with acrylic paint and… well, it looks like a vast field of variations on a theme, doesn't it? Each square feels like a little experiment. What catches your eye when you look at this piece? Curator: Ah, “Summer.” It reminds me of a vast, somewhat obsessive, data visualization project rendered by a slightly mad scientist… but one with an impeccable sense of aesthetic balance! It’s intellectual but also, paradoxically, playful. Each of these squares is a note in a visual symphony. Do you get a sense of how, by isolating a single element, she lets us see the underlying structure of… well, everything? Editor: I see what you mean! It’s like she’s deconstructing visual language, one little square at a time. Like taking apart words to see what letters they are composed of, which seems… very postmodern of her. Curator: Exactly. It’s as if she’s saying, “Here are the basic building blocks. Now, what will *you* do with them?” Also, you get a very different sense of “Summer” depending on how close you stand. Far away, and it's just a sea of pattern, close up, it gets rather personal and mysterious… How do you think the work changes if it was, say, bursting with colour? Editor: Wow, good question… It'd be completely different! I think it is all so calculated in a muted fashion, that colour could detract from what it means. It needs to be, not just the sum of it's parts but somehow reduced to an indivisible part of itself! It could feel…less thoughtful, I think? Curator: Yes! Exactly. The almost clinical black and white allows a deeper dive. Which is ironic, really. Who'd expect clinical aesthetics in summer? Well, it certainly gives *me* pause for thought! Editor: Definitely. I see pattern and variation so differently now. Thanks for this fascinating look into Jennifer Bartlett’s art.