Hello, Hello.

Carrie Haskin from Section A checking in.

For Blog Post #1, I want to focus on Guillermo Kuitca. I went to many museums and galleries and saw many pieces of work this week, but one of his pieces just keeps shaking around in my head. The image is pretty large and it was placed well above head height so you're eye to eye with the middle of the painting. It is a dark, dark, almost black, blue piece with great depth that gives a feeling of looking through something. The subject painted on this blue pool of a canvas is of a floorplan for a modest apartment. A couple of rooms, some closets, nothing extravagant, nothing to sway your emotions one way or another. It's just a floorplan on a midnight blue canvas.

But then you see it. There are very faint lines that curve, and as you step back, they become long, thin teardrops running down the face of the canvas. Now, well now this piece could mean anything, make you feel a million feels. So much is being said with a few teardrops. Is this the first apartment of a young couple and these are joyful tears? Is this the foundation that remains of a family's only shelter after a terrible storm? What if it is deeper even than that? What if this piece is supposed to trigger an emotional response and connection between the viewer and a home or apartment in their past? As much as a house or apartment is just bricks and nails and drywall, it is also a member of the family.

"If these walls could talk."

That's all I was able to think while standing in front of that canvas.

Guillermo Kuitca - House Plan with Tear Drops, 1989

Image from: media.walkerart.org