Faceless 1993

Marlene Dumas made “Faceless” with ink on paper, and I wonder, was it fast or slow? The inky washes pool and bleed, like a memory surfacing and dissolving at once. The figure, kneeling, holds a cloth or veil, obscuring their face, but that absence speaks volumes. You know, I reckon it takes guts to embrace the unresolved. I can imagine Dumas, poised with her brush, letting the ink flow, allowing chance and intuition to guide her. I feel a kinship with her, this willingness to let go of control, to let the medium lead the way. It's like she's saying, "Here, look at this feeling, this fragment, this incomplete story." And maybe, in that very incompleteness, we find a space for ourselves, a place to project our own stories, our own faces, onto the faceless. It’s a brave thing to be so simple, so vulnerable, and so profound.