What would happen if you tell 10 artists to paint “yellow”?
What is yellow?
Not as a color swatch on a paint tube but as a feeling, a memory, a texture. The challenge wasn’t just to use yellow, but to see it—feel it—and translate that sensation onto the canvas.
54 in. x 43 in. | Acrylic and Spray Paint on Canvas | Astoria, Queens, 2022
Yellow, for me, is light. It’s warmth rolling across skin. It’s the way the sky stretches out as the sun drops behind a far-off horizon, leaving streaks of gold on water-stained clouds. I didn’t want to tame it. So I splashed yellow across the canvas—uncontrolled and unpolished, like sun rays burning through haze.
To shift the yellows, I darkened it with an earth tone and softened it with neutrals, watching the pigment move and sink. Every brushstroke landed like a soft echo of light.
And then came the fuchsia stripes—clean, rigid, architectural. A city interrupting nature. I thought of buildings catching the last light of day, their sharp edges cutting through the otherwise soft blur of a sunset.
This painting feels like standing on the edge of the skyline, breathing in the city and feeling the sun burn away the chill.
Yellow isn’t quiet—it’s alive. It reflects. It moves.
Price Upon Request