March 1998 1998

In March 1998, Kristin Leachman made this artwork of cascading forms, shimmering between light and dark. Imagine her, poised with a pencil, building this intricate world, one tiny stroke at a time. It’s like watching rain, or maybe fish scales, each mark carefully placed, creating a sense of depth and movement. There’s something meditative about the repetition, a kind of quiet focus that I really admire. You know, it reminds me of Agnes Martin’s grids, but with a twist – a softer, more organic feel. What was Leachman thinking as she made this? Was she lost in the rhythm of her hand, or was she chasing after some elusive pattern? Maybe it’s both. Artists are always in conversation, borrowing and riffing off each other’s ideas. Ultimately, this piece is about seeing, feeling, and finding meaning in the act of creation. It’s a reminder that art doesn’t always have to be loud or flashy – sometimes, the most powerful statements are the quietest ones.