Ceiling of Baptistry Niche, Mission Dolores c. 1940

Hilda Olson rendered this watercolor of the Mission Dolores baptistry niche, a slice of architectural ornamentation, onto paper. The zig-zagging pattern, built from chevrons, feels playful yet grounded, like a game of Tetris turned earthy. Look closely, and you’ll notice how the paint seems almost dry-brushed, letting the texture of the paper peek through. It's not trying to trick you into thinking it *is* the actual niche. The colors, muted blues, reds, yellows, feel aged, worn by time, almost melancholic. My eye keeps going back to the area where the colors shift from red to blue, the subtle variations in tone suggesting both depth and decay. The small, irregular strokes and the imperfections in the lines give it a human touch, a sense of the artist's hand at work. This drawing reminds me of Agnes Martin's grids, but less austere, more forgiving. It whispers of the past, of craft and devotion, and the beauty found in imperfection. It's a reminder that art doesn't always need to shout. Sometimes, a quiet murmur can be just as powerful.