Untitled 1967

Luchita Hurtado’s untitled painting is a watery world, like a series of screens or scrolls, made of blues and greens, drawn over with something like calligraphy. I imagine Hurtado making this, stepping back, squinting, layering these marks. Did she turn the canvas as she worked? I always wonder about that when I see these all-over compositions. The paint looks like ink, pooling in some places, scraped in others. There’s something deeply moving about the tentative marks here. The way that some are thin and transparent, like the first gestures in a drawing. And yet, there are also decisive, bold strokes, like the artist knew exactly where to put them. I find myself wanting to know what the symbols mean, but maybe they don’t mean anything. Maybe it's Hurtado having a conversation with other artists, and with us, about feeling, gesture, and the joy of mark-making.