Meeting Rothko

The room was empty apart from a few visitors but the space had a feeling of fullness. It was softly lit and inviting. The walls were high and the art works dominated the space. The deep reds and maroon filled the walls, high and wide. I had the feeling that I was being watched, my presence was being acknowledged in some way. I made my way to the centre of the room so I could get a fuller view of all the surrounding canvases. As I stood still, the paintings seemed to move or vibrate. I moved closer and again remained still. The paint appeared to be breathing, in and out like it was alive. I wondered about the artist and the lighting and the colours used as the work seemed to come out from the painting and bounce off my body. I was curious, intrigued and wanted to know more. How did the artist achieve this, what was he trying to say, can I understand it? Keeping still, I quietened my mind and allowed the paint to move me again. The vibrations had a kind of rhythm that was both soothing and inviting. I moved slightly closer so my whole vision was filled with the huge canvas. The vibrations penetrated my skin and moved through my body. The hairs stood up on my arms with goosebumps. Like a wave it flowed over and through me. I felt all the emotion and all the movement. It wasn’t forceful, more rhythmic and pulsating. In my core I felt emotion filling me, there was a knowing of something important, precious, something secret, something pure, something of great value. I recognised its presence, it was internal and external and felt intimate. I felt deeply connected on an emotional and physical level. I felt seen, equally valued and equally known. I felt that I met Rothko that day.