Scarsdale 1986

Eric Fischl's painting, Scarsdale, is like a dream assembled from different scenes, painted with a brush that seems both urgent and tender. The way Fischl layers the paint, thick in some spots and almost translucent in others, gives the whole image a feeling of being in flux, like memory itself. Look at the bride's dress—those strokes of light blue and white don't just describe fabric, they give it weight and movement. Then there's that little dachshund, tethered but alert, painted with quick strokes against the darkness. It feels like a fleeting thought, both present and distant. Fischl reminds me a bit of David Salle, in how he brings disparate images together, creating a narrative that’s more felt than told. It's like he's saying that life, and art, is all about the in-between spaces, the connections we make, and the stories we weave from fragments.