I like artworks where one can reflect on one's thoughts on them. That work never changes, but as one goes through various moods, the art does change. But it’s not the art; it is more of one’s reflection, which is always moving. I’m drawn into meditative works of art because I feel it’s a partnership between the art and the viewer/participant. It also goes beyond thoughts; for example, if this painting is beautiful or any other subjective stance one can take, the work will exist no matter your thoughts.
Looking at Agnes Martin’s painting Friendship (1963), I feel caressed by its gold tint, which one presumes has a spiritual presence. That is the attraction, but once there, the textures of the work bring one into a landscape that is focused and has endless horizons, but it is contained by its frame or size (6' 3" x 6' 3" (190.5 x 190.5 cm). Gold leaf and oil on canvas are the magic ingredients in this grid-like work of art. The painting does not go anywhere, but one can travel deeply into the grid side-by-side of perfect measurement. That is a controlled structure, but one can marvel at its perfection; it makes one reflect on one's imperfections.
This is an odd thing for me to admit, but I have never seen any of Agnes Martin’s paintings in person. I have only seen them in books and, worse, online. The reason is I suffer from Vertigo, and there are certain works that can set me off. A grid-like painting placed in a large room with tall ceilings is not a location of great comfort for me. I have no problems looking at grid-like paintings in artbooks or on my computer screen, but seeing something in person brings an emotional feeling of anxiety. When I focus on grid-related work, I feel I’m being physically drawn into the picture. Something like a magnet attracting metal is a force that is hard for me to break out of. It’s not the art itself, but something within me is not right.
So, I need to be at a distance from the work by seeing it in another medium, such as in a book or a photograph, and we all know that those mediums can not accurately convey the physical painting in front of oneself. I’m hyper-aware of the differences between media. For example, I know watching a film on a DVD is very different from watching a film in a theater. Still, when I look at a painting I’m attracted to, I have to imagine that I’m in that room. When I think of it, the painting is not causing me to feel strange, but the room itself. It is how the work is placed in a large room. What is magnified is the size, shape, and vastness of a room full of art, or even with works of art, it is still difficult for me to process the space. So yes, looking at the painting in one’s room or library and in a place of comfort is ideal for me.
The other issue with Agnes Martin’s art is whether it can be photographed properly. The image of the painting can give one an idea of what it looks like in person, but there is something textural about seeing that art in person. Friendship is a painting I know of, but it is on a surface level because I can’t see it in person. But I take the title of this painting as an opening, a hand or arm reaching out to me and bringing it closer to the idea of the work. I’m at the distance but swim toward the space between me and the work. Once there and in my seat at home, I devour the art, but alas, it’s there and not touched by my experience.
The home of this painting is located in MOMA
The close-up of the painting is from here
The photo down below if from here.
Agnes Martin is one of my all-time favorite artists. The retrospective at LACMA several year ago was sublime. Each room had a kind of glow. It was truly special and I almost felt like I was floating. I hope you get to see one in person one day.