A pigeon 1993

Alfred Freddy Krupa made this pigeon, with what looks like ink on paper. The way the lines vary, thick to thin, dark to light, makes me think about the confidence of a brushstroke. It's like Krupa is saying, “I know a pigeon.” There’s a simplicity that belies the actual complexity of seeing. It’s not just about rendering what's there, but what you *feel* is there. Look at the way the wash of greyish-blue defines the body. It’s like a ghost of the pigeon, a memory of form. The starkness of the black outline emphasizes the delicacy of the inner washes, creating a beautiful tension. Thinking about other artists, I’m reminded of the work of Franz Kline, where the gestural quality and raw energy of the marks convey a sense of immediacy, a snapshot of a fleeting moment. But of course, here with Krupa we have a softness, and something about the everyday. It’s a pigeon, after all.