If you want to see why art that sounds, from the description, like bullshit, is in fact exquisite and profound - and why, by extension, you should never judge work that you haven't seen live - go to a Robert Ryman show. I admired him. He died yesterday.
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Maybe my favorite painter. I know it's a cliché, but his work changed my life.
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Mine, too. I can't remember where the retrospective I saw was, but C. Wool and I went together, and we were both knocked out by it.
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Mine was at SF MoMA. Curated by Gary, though I didn't know him at the time. I was astounded. I started painting not too long after. Miserably, of course, but . . .
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