Interests · What moves me
Art is the other language I think in. I make it, I live with it, and I lose whole hours to it — not as an investment, but because a great painting can say in a single glance what I’d struggle to put in a thousand words. Here’s some of what stops me where I stand.
The one I return to most. Raw, urgent, brilliant — crowns and skulls and words scrawled like warnings; a young Black genius who turned the whole art world on its head and did it entirely on his own terms. There’s a fearlessness in his work that I find electric, and a reminder in his story that the door can be kicked open from the outside.
See the work →Warhol saw what the rest of us missed — that the ordinary, a soup can, a face, a headline, could become iconic simply by how you chose to frame it. He blurred the line between art and culture, commerce and creativity, and I’ve never looked at either the same way since.
See the work →Picasso, because he refused to stand still. A lifetime of reinvention — period after period, never comfortable, never finished. He’s my reminder that mastery isn’t a destination you arrive at; it’s the willingness to keep breaking your own rules.
See the work →And abstraction, broadly — the work that doesn’t tell you what to see. I love a canvas that trusts you to bring your own meaning, the kind that rewards standing still. Sometimes the truest thing a painting can do is refuse to explain itself.
Art Institute of Chicago — open access, public domain
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