Untitled #3 c. 1980s

This is one of Joel Fisher's 'Untitled' works on paper, and it seems like he made it using soft graphite or maybe chalk. Looking at it, I can imagine him gently coaxing these lines into existence. The torn edges of the paper give it a fragile, intimate feeling, like a page torn from a sketchbook. Those lines aren't shouting at you; they're whispering. They form a kind of geometry, but one that's hesitant, not quite resolved. There’s something tender and tentative about the whole thing. I wonder if Fisher was thinking about artists like Cy Twombly, who also used line in such an open, searching way. All these artists are in a secret conversation across time. The beautiful thing about art is that it doesn't need to be loud to be profound. It embraces imperfection, and it reminds us that meaning is always in motion.