Untitled 1967

This is a print by Akiro Katori, who sadly died quite young. I really get a kick out of Akiro's strong blacks and whites; it's all about contrasts, right? Looking at it, I can imagine him making it, shifting things around, going with his gut. It makes me think about how the process of making art is a constant back and forth. The different textures add so much – you can almost feel the rough and smooth parts. That bold black shape on the side? It feels super deliberate, like he knew exactly where it needed to be. It's like he's speaking a language that only painters understand, referencing something so personal we can only guess at it. You can see echoes of other printmakers like Motherwell, but it feels new. We’re all just bouncing off each other, adding our own little twist to the conversation.