Ouarzazate 1971

Olivier Debre made *Ouarzazate* using paint, in an act of pure intuitive creation. I can almost see him moving, the painting shifting under his hand, a world emerging, stroke by stroke. It's easy to see why Debre’s work is called abstract landscape. There's a central form in the canvas, a sweep of pale pink and yellow that could be the curve of a riverbed, set against a border of salmon, green, and dusty blue. The paint is neither too thick nor too thin; each gesture seems to leave a mark with intention, from the swirling mass of bright green to the small trace of blue. I'm reminded of the paintings of Joan Mitchell, another painter who balanced form and feeling. All of us are in an ongoing conversation, seeing the world anew through each other’s eyes. And that's the beauty of painting: it embraces ambiguity, inviting endless interpretations.