Whatever it "is," from its size and scale, its proportion of shapes, I get this sense of something monumental, something much larger than me, something strong, powerful, and loud. I think a lot about abstraction and how we can ascribe any meaning we want when we look at it. I've written before that when I look at art, I characterize shapes, so that the whole work is like a relationship, or a series of relationships. I'm not alone here. In a 1964 MoMA publication about Motherwell, the poet Frank O'Hara describes one of Motherwell's paintings: "The sexual atmosphere of 'Two Figures with Cerulean Blue Stripe,' for example, has a specific tenderness and a poignancy which has nothing to do with 'figure' painting or with handling; it is dependent on the direct diagrammatic relation in a pictorial sense of the two forms, where the blue stripe is a curtain drawn away from the intimacy of the scene." There are areas of this painting 'Africa' that puzzle me because I haven't figured out for myself what purpose they serve, how they affect the other parts—namely, the splotchy little nubs on the left that kind of grow out of the sweeping black shape, the swinging ball shape in the middle, and the little patch of white within the black shape on the right-hand side. I go back and forth on what the marks mean to me, and maybe I'm just blowing hot air, and they don't mean anything—they're incidental marks.