Untitled 1981

This untitled painting by Luchita Hurtado presents a softly rendered landscape of inner and outer space, made in an unknown year with an unknown medium. The paint is so thin and matte here, it's almost like looking at a fresco. I love how Hurtado layers shapes: mountain, hand, and horizon line all bleed into one another. Everything is a little smudgy, a little unclear. Like a memory. The colors–dusky reds and browns—create a kind of womb-like atmosphere. The jagged white line slicing through the composition—lightning? A crack in the earth? The line itself is so wobbly, it refuses to be pinned down. It's as if Hurtado is saying, "Here is the landscape of the body, the landscape of the mind. They are one and the same." This piece has some similarities with the mystical landscapes of Hilma af Klint, where the natural world becomes a vessel for spiritual exploration. It's a reminder that art is a conversation, a way of seeing and feeling that stretches across time.