Olshtin, Kostel 1991

Petros Malayan made this place, *Olshtin, Kostel*, sometime in the last century, with who knows what—maybe oils, maybe something else, on who knows what kind of surface. Look at the building, that main plane of ochre with its subtle cross-hatching. I think he's working to fix a feeling, rather than depict a place. Those marks are almost like skin, stretched over something. And the way the figures—are they nuns?—are barely there, like ghosts. You know, when I look at this, I imagine Malayan standing in front of his canvas, squinting at the scene, trying to get it down before the light changes, before the feeling fades. I think he's trying to preserve something precious, something fleeting, something he's afraid of losing. Painters are always having a conversation with each other. Malayan is in conversation with the past, just as we are with him now. Painting lets us consider how we see and feel and keep the conversation going.