We respond to life as though it were perfect. When we go into a forest, we do not see the fallen rotting trees. We are inspired by a multitude of uprising trees. We even hear a silence when it is not really silent. When we see a newborn baby we say it is beautiful—perfect.
Agnes Martin, whose early work is on view through May 12 in Agnes Martin: The New York–Taos Connection (1947–1957)