Monday

This is the ultimate abstraction – it transcends even Pollock and his somewhat lazy spatters and almost doodling. This is sketching in the void but leaving behind the shell of emptiness that might just crack under the weight of the void itself. It’s a totally different level of opening oneself to the nebulous expanse of the universe.

Sunday

This is color and pattern theory at their finest, most distilled points. You can’t take the pattern away without losing the impact of the layers of the color, but you can’t take the layers of color away from the pattern without destroying the impact of the pattern as a whole. BOOM.

Saturday

I like that this is a study of color over form. It’s vague and nebulous, kind of like a toxic cloud of grim vast grey-ness and gloom and doom, but with hints of other things that break up the dismal bleh.

Friday

This piece is profound because it is so simple. You, as a viewer, are a part of the artwork. You influence how it is seen and how it is reflected. It is as much about how you see it as it is about how the work actually is displayed.

Thursday

I love that this painting has a very child-like way of looking at the world like stick figures and lines and angles and nothing is quite right or real and yet none of it is really wrong, either. It’s very strong and forward, yet not so much as to alienate the viewer completely.

Monday

There’s always been something about this painting that I’ve loved that I can’t quite put my finger on. It might be a combination of the knowing way the cow in the lower left corner is looking at you and going, “Yeah, dude, I know. Crazy shit’s going down.” And the bright cheerfulness of the absurd combination of colors. It’s playful in a way when we don’t realize we need playfulness.

Sunday

*pets this fine example of miniature painting* So, okay, miniature painting in regards to the Indian usage of the term is a misnomer because it just refers to portraiture in general, and more specifically, a certain type of portraiture. This is a good example where the sitter is exalted for their wealth and elegance and beauty, and framed by exquisite and ornate art that reflects the same.

Saturday

Look, it’s Monet! But not just any Monet: this is stereotypical Monet, in the style that would come to define him. You can see the choppiness of the water in the reflections, the sketchiness of the grass (that would later be emulated by van Gogh), and the bitter carelessness of the clouds in the sky as if he just doesn’t give a penny farthing of shits anymore about them. This is Monet before he got famous, when he was out testing his trainers and playing the club scene.