Land 1989

Joan Mitchell made "Land," this huge painting, with oil on two joined panels. It’s all about the gesture, the sweep of the arm, the loaded brush – you can almost feel her energy in each stroke. The palette is grounded in blues and greens, with these sudden flashes of red and yellow that just pop. Up close, you see how the paint’s laid on thick in places, almost sculptural, then scraped back to reveal the canvas underneath. The surface has this incredible depth, like looking through layers of memory. Take that cluster of green marks near the center, how they tangle and overlap. It’s a microcosm of the whole painting: chaotic yet balanced, a conversation between intention and accident. Mitchell's work always reminds me of de Kooning, that same sense of raw, unbridled expression. But where he was all about the figure, she’s diving into the landscape, pulling it apart and putting it back together in her own way. It's a reminder that art isn't about answers; it's about the questions we ask along the way.