Untitled 1978

Soledad Sevilla made this beautiful painting with straight lines and crosses of faded gray. I can imagine her standing there, brush in hand, maybe thinking about Agnes Martin, or maybe just lost in the rhythm of the lines, each one slightly off, a little wobbly. There's something about the way the lines don't quite meet, the subtle imperfections, that makes it so human. It's not a machine-made pattern, but something that’s emerged through trial and error, intuition, and a little bit of stubbornness. I wonder what it was like for her to create this pattern, repeating and repeating and repeating. I picture myself in her place, completely absorbed in the process. The subtle shifts in color and line, each one carrying a little bit of feeling, a little bit of intention. It's like she's having a conversation with herself, or with the painting itself. And now, we get to join in.