Seeing Rothko

Recently I painted the walls of my workshop, I gave them a coat of light blue, inspired by the light blue skies from the old Dutch Master painters. 

When I entered the shop earlier this week, with the indirect light from the morning sun sneaking in from behind, I saw the walls light up rendering an illusion of space as Rothko's murals do.

This was helped by the fact that my vision was slightly blurred, as I wasn't wearing my glasses. I couldn't see the screw holes, just the subtle shades of blue. I stood there for a moment, having that same sensation when I stand in front of a Rothko. 

I wanted to capture that moment, and took a couple of pictures. Later that day, while I was fiddling on my computer, I rotated them in Photoshop and they even became more Rothko like. 

Ever since I saw my first Rothko – it must have been London at the Tate, in my early days as an art student – I have felt a strange attraction to his work. Yet, I never really understood why. Until, a couple of years ago, I read what he actually intended with his work: creating a spiritual experience. Somehow, that made lot of sense and suddenly I saw Rothko's paintings in a completely new way: it's not just an abstract painting, it's a space on a canvas – an endless and timeless space. 

Every time I enter my shop, I see a Rothko – I have a Rothko in my shop. It's spiritual place – it's cosmic.