Prentenboek van Kigyoku 1901 - 1904

Seizei Kigyoku made this image – the cover of *Prentenboek van Kigyoku* – sometime in the mid-18th century, and it's all about the dance of the brush. The ochre here feels so delicate, so considered. It’s like each mark is a little meditation. The paint looks so thin, almost like water, that it becomes part of the fabric of the page. The cover has marks, stains and scuffs that show it's been around, but it just adds to the sense that making art, like living life, is an unfolding process. Look at the slender stalk that shoots up the page and dissolves into the background; how does it relate to the strange looping form that grows from the flower at its base? This feels like a dialogue, or an echo. I can't help but think of Morandi when I look at this. Both artists are so interested in the poetry of the everyday and finding the sublime in the simplest of marks. Art is a conversation and there's always something new to discover.