Passage 1968

Gerhard Richter made this painting, "Passage," sometime during his career, with paint on canvas. I mean, what is this? It's like looking at a mood ring for giants. It's not quite abstract, and not quite representational, so it's hard to know where to land. The gradient of blues, from the inky depths at the top to the almost-white at the bottom, feels like watching the day turn into night, or maybe the other way around. Look closely, and you can see how he's layered the paint, blurring the edges. It's not about a perfect finish, but about the act of painting itself. The way the two panels sit side by side creates a rhythm, a sort of visual echo. There’s this sense of repetition and variation. Richter’s work often plays with these ideas, questioning the nature of images and how we perceive them. He's like a magician, revealing the tricks of the trade while still managing to create something beautiful and strange. And in a funny way, it reminds me of Agnes Martin's quiet grids. Both artists are interested in the power of subtle gestures and the poetics of repetition, creating works that invite contemplation and endless looking.