Adriana's Garden 1968

Albin Brunovsky made this image, Adriana’s Garden, with ink on paper. I can imagine the garden, but it's also a storm, maybe the end of a world, or the beginning of one. I wonder what it was like for Brunovsky to conjure this scene, the scratching, the blotting, coaxing the ink to build a kind of chaos. The contrast is high, almost melodramatic. Look at the light, how it cuts through everything like a knife. I think Brunovsky was feeling something strong when he made this. Maybe he was pissed off, or maybe he was just really in love with Adriana. There is a feeling of the work of other printmakers here. I am thinking about Piranesi, but also Goya, with his nightmarish visions. Artists keep the conversation going, across time. The exchange of ideas and feelings, it's what keeps us alive. Art is never really finished, it just keeps changing in our minds.