Untitled 1958

This "Untitled" painting—and what a title, right, so open—by Beauford Delaney is swimming in thick strokes of yellow and white. Imagine him there, in his studio, probably listening to jazz, trying to capture something about light, or maybe joy? He's layering the paint on, building up this really tactile surface. You can practically feel the energy of his brushstrokes, how he’s swirling and dabbing, lost in the process. Delaney, like so many painters, was chasing something elusive—a feeling, a memory, a fleeting moment. I think of Van Gogh, and his yellows, and how light can be a kind of… hope. This painting feels like that: thick, messy hope. It’s a reminder that painting isn’t about perfection. It's about the exchange of ideas, the conversation, and the ongoing act of trying to figure things out.