Greenhouse 1939

Walter Kurt Wiemken’s "Greenhouse" is a world held captive in blues and greens, conjured from somewhere between 1907 and 1940. I can picture Wiemken in his studio, brush in hand, coaxing a world into being. He’s wrestling with that space where form dissolves into feeling and the greenhouse is a memory, a mirage. The paint is thin, almost like watercolor, laid down in washes that let the light filter through. See how the blues of the structure bleed into the greens of the plants, blurring the boundaries between inside and out? There is a dialogue happening between what’s enclosed and what's free, a conversation between control and wildness. That little stroke of red, a flower perhaps, or a fleeting thought, anchors the whole composition. It is a connection to something very immediate and human. I like to think Wiemken’s work is like a message in a bottle thrown out to sea. It invites us to reflect on our own relationship to the world, our own ways of seeing, and to keep the conversation going.