Twilight 1985

This small square painting was made by Oleg Holosiy, and, like many artists, he’s pushing paint around, lost in the deliciousness of color and texture. The painting is a murky scene, browns and greys, a landscape maybe, or a dreamscape. Holosiy's put the paint on thick, like frosting on a cake, so the surface is alive with globs and ridges. I bet he was thinking about surface tension—how much can I load on this brush before it all squishes? The gestures are broad and confident, each stroke a record of a feeling, a thought. There's a vertical cascade of white that really activates the painting’s surface. It reminds me of Gerhard Richter’s squeegee paintings, but somehow more intimate, more raw. Painting is a conversation, artists chatting across time, inspiring each other to see and feel and try new things. It's about embracing uncertainty, about letting the paint lead the way. Holosiy leaves space for ambiguity, which is what gives the painting its power. You can look at it over and over again, and you will discover something new each time.