So, i am excited about Agnes Martins new work–for the longest time nothing seemed to phase her, she still painted the same thing. She could live beside the grotesque and new fangled creations of Bruce Nauman (as she had been for almost forty years, until 2000 where she had to be moved into a nursing home), and have him over for tea but still put lines on canvases, she could move from Saskatchewan to New York to Taos and still put lines on canvases, she could be 90 and in the tate and sold for a million and have her book of writing out and still put lines on canvases. She could be a cult favourite instead of loved by everyone and still put lines on canvases. Sometimes the fields are a different colour, more bright or more dark, sometimes she uses yellow or taupe instead of lavender or mauve–and sometimes the lines are dark, sometimes they are almost Pace and sometimes they hum like power lines–but she has had a zen forbearance, like the man who spent 70 years painting bamboo. Then in her latest work, now at the Pace Wildenstein in New York–she has placed yellow tipped triangles and black trapezoids in the middle of her lines, and i’m ecstatic, its the most exciting, new and sexy thing i have heard in at least this year–and she did it in her mid 90s … gives me hope, it does.