Mark Rothko

Black on Maroon, 1959 by Mark Rothko, Tate Modern, London.

Yesterday David and I were talking about going to see art, and how exhausting and pointless it is to trail round a huge galery to see lots of works, and also about the paucity of feeling of so much work. It's almost a cliche now, but the 'Rothko Room' at the Tate Modern, (they used to be at what is now Tate Britain) is still the most incredibly moving collection of art I have ever seen (and with 9 years at art college, I saw alot of art...) The room breathes you in, you are compelled to stop, sit down and really look. Then even the looking disappears and the paintings loom, undermining your attempts to look for narrative or easy meaning. You do not understand the paintings, they understand you.