Untitled 1975

This untitled painting was made by Zdzislaw Beksinski, and it’s like peering into a world both alien and deeply familiar. The colors are muted, a kind of brown-grey sludge that feels both earthy and apocalyptic. Look at the surface, how Beksinski builds it up with layers of paint to create a kind of gnarled texture, like the skin of some ancient, petrified creature. The figure on the left is monumental. His form feels like it’s been constructed from decaying metal and bone, yet there’s an almost tenderness in the way his hand hovers over the child. The book on his chest, with its intricate carvings and glowing edges, feels like the source of all the strange beauty and terror in this world. Beksinski reminds me a little of Goya, with his dark visions and unflinching eye. But where Goya felt like a warning, Beksinski feels like a kind of acceptance, or maybe even celebration, of the weirdness of existence. Art like this reminds you that beauty can be found even in the darkest corners.