The Mad Woman of Douai 1918

William Orpen made this painting in oil, and it's like he's trying to capture a moment that’s both stark and, well, a little strange. The thing that grabs me is the color. It’s all muted, a ghostly palette of grays and blues. There's this incredible tension between the smooth, almost translucent washes and the rough texture of the ruined building in the background. Look at the way the paint is applied to the mad woman’s dress. See how thin and watery it is, almost like a stain? Then compare that to the impasto of the buildings which feel so present. The paint feels like it's been dragged and dabbed, leaving this record of the artist's process, like a map of feeling. It makes me think of someone like Leon Kossoff, with his dense, almost sculptural surfaces, where the act of painting becomes this tangible, physical thing. Art, for me, is always an open question, a place where you can hold multiple ideas at once, and let them rub against each other, spark, and then, who knows?