Arriving in Rome by noon on Tuesday and leaving early Wednesday morning, my very first meeting with Rothko lasted for six hours. Apart from the survey provided by this exhibition spanning almost four decades of his work, I did connect to three of the paintings. Could’ve been many, were my perceptivity boundless… but it is not. So I stayed with these: one yellow on red painted in 1956; one black; and the last one, dated 1970, black and grey.

Each one a singularity, by no means reproducible.

Two of them loaded with presence embodied in paint; the third opening into the abyss, essentiated to horizon.

Colour breathing through the eye, unceasingly transforming. Hold on, let go. Let go.

The act of seeing inmost intimacy, eating and drinking of the soul.