The Beginning of Miracles: XIX 1953

Corita Kent made this screenprint, "The Beginning of Miracles: XIX," with light ink on a warm, tan background. It feels like a ghost of an image, hovering between presence and absence. I'm thinking about Corita in her studio, maybe pushing the ink through the screen, and how the act of printing—a process of layering and repetition—mirrors the way we build meaning in our lives. The image is almost there, like a faint memory, but just out of reach. There are cups, tables, and architectural structures, all rendered in thin, white lines. I feel like the artist is suggesting that even the most mundane objects can be a source of wonder and inspiration. It reminds me of Robert Rauschenberg's prints, or even some of Warhol's more abstract compositions, where the everyday is elevated. And, you know, it's not about what we see, but how we see it. The painting doesn't give you all the answers, but it does invite you to look more closely. It suggests that, like artists, we're all in this ongoing dialogue with the world, and that the beginnings of miracles are everywhere, if only we take the time to notice.