Woman on Checkerboard
August 21, 2016
After emboldening myself I approach “Woman and Checkerboard” and say, “Ma’am, you appear rather morose this morning.”
“Is that a surprise? While molten blue eyes pour out my sockets I’m sitting at a table threatened by a gloomy wall and ominous sky and sense Richard Diebenkorn’s going to remove me and other people from his scenes. Imagine where he’ll put us.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Museums and wealthy collectors will pay to hang you and your friends in beautiful galleries and living rooms while, for almost twenty years, Diebenkorn provides bright company from the Ocean Park series south of Santa Monica.”
“Men and women like me?”
“No, large abstract landscapes in gentle blues and light blues and soft purples and browns and succulent yellows and oranges and soothing off-whites divided and joined by lines in scenes more congenial than you, his figurative subjects, have seen.”
“I hope he likes the sea more than people.”
“Artistically, at least, I believe he does.”
“Then maybe he’ll relax and stop smoking.”