An incomplete thought on Mark Rothko

I love figures. I love shapes and colors that don’t quite go together. I like to observe nature and how it dances, moves and changes. I wish I had a camera with me when I see flocks of birds dancing and moving around. I wish I could photograph that kind of happiness and harmony.

Then I think about Mark Rothko and all of his emptiness and solitude. I like to think about Rothko’s idealism, his works without titles, and his poetry without images. All of that echoing in so many walls, intense colors that can carry you away. I also think about the things he went through and an idea that he once entertained: he didn’t want to have his paintings at the Four Seasons Restaurant in New York because he thought that if someone paid that much for that kind of food, they would never pay attention to his paintings.