ZuZaZaZaZaZa 1994

Takashi Murakami gave us this bold painting, its year unconfirmed, with what looks like red enamel and a whole lotta nerve. I imagine Murakami stepping back, squinting, then splat! A vertical eruption of white cuts through the red. This isn't just paint; it’s a controlled explosion, a visual scream. It reminds me of Pollock’s drips, but way more deliberate. Did Murakami plan this, or did he just let the brush go wild? You have to wonder, what was it like to be in the studio at that moment? The contrast makes it pop, and it’s so simple it’s almost dumb—but it’s not. This singular gesture becomes the whole deal. Murakami’s in conversation with all of art history, twisting and turning it into something uniquely his. Painting is like that, a back-and-forth across time. It’s about embracing the chaos and seeing where it lands.