Drops by Agnes Martin

A quiet hush settles over the grid. Agnes Martin’s Drops arrives like morning mist on still water. Sixteen pencil circles hover in a field of pale ivory, each no larger than a dime. The graphite is so faint the circles seem to breathe, their edges softening into the paper. Horizontal pencil lines beneath them are equally restrained, barely disturbing the silence. Hang it where light shifts slowly—above a writing desk, beside a north-facing window.