Bombers 1963

Gerhard Richter’s “Bombers” is a monochromatic scene, a blur of planes and falling objects, realized in shades of grey that feel both detached and intensely present. Imagine Richter in his studio, maybe using a squeegee to smudge the wet paint, trying to push past the clear image of those bombers. I can almost feel Richter’s hand moving across the canvas, blurring and softening the edges of the planes, the bombs, the smoke. He's walking a tightrope between representation and abstraction, destruction and beauty. What was he thinking when he made this? Perhaps something about the way these planes are made to destroy, to make you feel small. The grayness is critical here; it neutralizes, almost like a veil. Richter’s project has always been about how painting sits alongside photography, challenging its authority, and pushing the boundaries of what painting can do. Like his peers Polke and Lueg, he made paintings which spoke to the complicated legacy of Germany in the postwar period. It’s like he’s saying, "Let’s talk about this, but let's talk about it through the slipperiness of paint, through a feeling that evades easy answers." And isn’t that what art is all about?