Hochbahnhof Bülowstraße 1922

This nocturne was painted by Lesser Ury, who was working in Germany in the early 20th century. Look how he built up a world from dark hues and golden streaks with oil on canvas. I can imagine Ury, caught in the act of painting, a dialogue between intention and accident. There’s an urban streetscape made of dark blues and blacks, punctuated by vibrant yellows that glow and dance across the surface. What was it like for Ury to stand there, maybe in the rain? It’s like he’s translating the city’s moods, its solitude and energy, into something felt. It reminds me a little of Whistler, who was similarly trying to capture a modern urban experience with a limited palette. That particular gestural daub, how it shimmers with light, evokes the feeling of a wet city street at night. Painters are always talking to one another, aren’t they? The conversation keeps going, a community that stretches across time and space. It’s a painting that stays open, refusing to be pinned down to one single story.