Have been thinking a lot lately about Mark Rothko. Have always loved his paintings, for undefinable reasons - it's one of those experiences where I see something and am frozen to the sight of it, taken in by it, enveloped by it, changed by it.
But what elements are causing this reaction? Definitely something to do with the deep rich colors, layered, and textured ever so slightly, and the matte-ness or fuzziness between the blocks of color -
But there remains some unexplainable magic, some emotional element, that pulls me in and holds me.
Just like how I feel in India. And Mexico.
That rich, old, layered, peeling, persistent, weathered, even dirtied color - deep, aching color -
It's the color in life I live for.
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