There is no better place for color field paintings then New England midwinter.

We are in the middle of it. The ever grey. And every shade of dust the woods and streets can muster.

While I am in the thick of another, much more involved book–the bedtime book we’ll call it– I always appreciate the freedom of an art book. The ability to sit with a page, any page, and absorb something of a mood for as little a time as life sometimes allows. Of course, it must be noted I could equally invest an afternoon or longer in an art book.

But lately, it’s been Rothko.

Rothko in the afternoon. A few pages of orange and lilac teasing me about floral combinations I have yet to dream of.

Rothko at night. Near candlelight. The black and cutting red. Glaring like intense love.

For many, these color field paintings are take it or leave it. And while it’s true there is something especially in the blending that fails to come through a page rather than real life, I appreciate how they open the mind. Color field doesn’t force exactitudes on you, or leave you to interpret an environment, but it elicits emotion and then it’s up to you to make of it what you will.