Untitled 1970

Lothar Charoux painted this, we don’t know when, with dark hues offset by a slender vertical line. I wonder how long Charoux worked on it, and what it was like for him to make this piece. Did he begin with this black, and then add the line? Was it one confident gesture, or many tentative marks? I ask myself if it’s actually two lines, twins of imperfection meeting each other, like a reflection? I try to imagine the moment when the artist felt that it was finished and the conversation between the artist and the canvas came to an end. The surface has been softly built up, layer by layer, and this brings a wonderful depth to it. I can see how it has been made and that’s what is so beautiful. It reminds me of Barnett Newman’s ‘zip’ paintings, but with a quieter, more introspective tone. It’s like Charoux is whispering to us, sharing a secret about the nature of seeing. And that’s the great thing about painting, isn’t it? It’s an invitation to slow down, to look closely, and to find our own meaning in the space between the artist’s intention and our perception.