In front of a mirror 1937 - 1938

Mikuláš Galanda made this gouache painting, "In front of a mirror", sometime before 1938, when he died. Look at those blocks of color; the red face, the creamy body, the dark hair like thick noodles. I can imagine Galanda stepping back, squinting, and then leaning in to make another intuitive mark. I'm thinking about how painting is a material act. You have to get your hands dirty, slop the paint around, and somehow, this image appears. It’s like the paint itself is pushing back, insisting on its own form. I see echoes of Picasso, that kind of flattening and distorting of the figure, but with a folk art sensibility. It’s like he's trying to find his own way of seeing, wrestling with the history of painting, but also being true to his own voice. Artists are always in conversation with each other, across time, trading notes, inspiring each other, even if they don't know it. Every brushstroke is a thought, a feeling, a question. It’s never just one thing.