New York Night 1929

Georgia O’Keeffe painted this, a New York night scene, with oils, building up layers of dark hues pierced by the scattered, geometric lights of the city. I can just imagine O’Keeffe, up high, peering out from a window. She's figuring out how to translate the density of the urban landscape into something, well, painterly. Look at the way she’s got the warm glow of those scattered windows playing off the deep blacks and blues. I wonder, did she lay down the dark first, then dab in the lights? Notice the way the surface shimmers, the textural contrasts—smooth expanses against the staccato rhythm of the lights. I see echoes of the Precisionists here, but with a softer touch. It feels so personal, like she's not just documenting a scene, but really feeling it. Like she’s in conversation with other cityscapes, but also carving out her own space. Painting is such an intimate act, you know? Each brushstroke a little question, a little answer.