Tunk Mountains, Maine c. 1945

John Marin’s "Tunk Mountains, Maine" is a frenzy of charcoal on paper, like a landscape seen through a shattered windshield. Marin attacks the paper, letting the charcoal dance and scrape, a real physical record of his encounter with the mountains. Look how he breaks the scene down into these choppy, angular lines. It’s like he's trying to capture not just what the mountains look like, but how they feel—the rough, jagged energy of nature itself. The charcoal is thick in some spots, almost like little cliffs, and then fades into a soft, hazy gray in others, mimicking the way light plays across the peaks. That little scribble near the bottom? Could be a cluster of rocks, or maybe just Marin testing the charcoal. It's these little moments of process that make the drawing so alive. He's got a similar restless energy as Marsden Hartley, another Maine guy, but Marin's all about capturing a feeling. It's like he's saying, "Here's what it feels like to stand in front of these mountains," not just, "Here's what they look like."