Jesus Confounding the Elders 1996

Frank Mason's painting, Jesus Confounding the Elders, shimmers with a rich, dark palette—umber, sienna, and crimson—punctuated by the stark white of draped figures. I wonder about the act of painting this, all those layers of glazing and scumbling, building up the drama. I feel for Mason. Imagine him, grappling with the weight of tradition, trying to breathe new life into an age-old story. What was he thinking as he laid down those brushstrokes, each one a tiny decision, a gesture of faith, or maybe doubt? The texture is remarkable, thick in places, thin in others, creating a push-and-pull between surface and depth. Look at the way he renders the hands—they’re so expressive, each one telling a story of its own. It reminds me of other figurative painters, like Titian and Rembrandt, all wrestling with the same questions of light, form, and meaning. It’s like they are speaking to each other across time. That's the thing about painting, it's an ongoing conversation, a continuous exchange of ideas and inspiration, embracing the unknown with every brushstroke.