165 1960

Luis Feito built this painting from blacks, grays, and whites, coaxing it into being through trial, error, and intuition. I can just imagine him there in his studio, squinting, probably chain-smoking, trying to wrestle light out of darkness, layering the paint with a palette knife to give it real heft. See how those thick impasto strokes just rise up off the surface? The piece has got this certain vibe, you know? It’s as if Feito’s reaching back to Goya’s dark visions, or maybe even Rothko’s color fields, but doing it in his own way, his own time. I like the tension between the smooth, blended areas and the rough, textured parts. It’s like he’s saying, "Hey, painting can be both—controlled and wild, all at once." In the end, artists are always talking to each other across time, inspiring each other. And that’s what makes painting so cool—it's a conversation that never really ends.