Each fall, The Block Museum Student Associates (BMSAs) begin their year by spending time in the galleries, choosing artworks that capture their curiosity, and writing reflections based solely on observation. In Pouring, Spilling, Bleeding: Helen Frankenthaler and Artists’ Experiments on Paper, students found themselves drawn to color, gesture, and emotion, responding to Frankenthaler’s work and to the artists in the exhibition who shared an experimental approach to printmaking.
Below are excerpts from their reflections, shared in their original words.
Helen Frankenthaler, Divertimento (1983)
“I love being able to see the progression of this piece from the drafting stage to the final work. I am so intrigued by how the use of color changed. From light to dark and light again. It makes me wonder what Frankenthaler aimed to provoke. The mood of the piece changes so much depending on the color. The final product is so bold with its bright red color resembling blood. It’s so different from the deep moody blue that reminds me of the deep ocean from the drafting process. The trial proofs are so different from one another. I want to know how Frankenthaler decided on the final print. The rotation of the piece also changes depending on the proof. I wonder why this is and what effect it has on the overall piece. What would it look like for Divertimento to be displayed sideways?”
— Tyree Walton (Environmental Sciences ’27)
Helen Frankenthaler, Divertimento, Working Proof 6 (1983)
“Pouring, Spilling, Bleeding, and Sinking. As I stare into this piece, my mind feels as though it slowly sinks into the page. ‘True blue’ often refers to an unwavering loyalty—to a person, a place, or an idea—something steady and reliable. The shifting shades of blue in this work build and blend into that same feeling: the sense of being exactly where you belong. Not too deep, not too shallow, but in the perfect space between—the truest blue. The colors move in curves and waves that cradle and envelop, as if the paint itself is breathing, creating a quiet comfort that draws me inward. Upon closer inspection, I notice what appears to be an arm stretching upward along the side of the page. It feels as though the depth of the color is reaching outward, pulling me toward it, extending the invitation to immerse myself fully into its world.”
— Leila Murray (Manufacturing and Design Engineering ’28)
Helen Frankenthaler, Passeggiata Romana (1973)
“I see a field of earthy and terracotta tones, contrasted by two organic strokes of green, one thin and one thick. At first, it reminds me of home, the sunny and hot Cairo deserts. The colors feel warm, saturated, and steady, and the green waves feel like heat waves, interrupting the warm air. I feel the balance between survival and choking in hot air environment. It feels like savage and unexplored terrain.”
— Sam Habashy (Journalism and International Studies ’26)
Helen Frankenthaler, Tout à coup (1987)
“The first thing I noticed was that this seemed to be the most figurative work in Helen Frankenthaler’s exhibition—an artist otherwise known for rejecting figuration. The form in the top left corner resembles a seated human figure, seemingly interacting with the circular symbol nearby. The bottom half of the painting evokes ancient imagery, recalling cave art or Egyptian papyrus scenes, with a sky–man–land composition often found in early human paintings.
The second thing I noticed was my hesitation: I felt almost afraid to draw conclusions about this work. That hesitation made me reflect on the paradoxical nature of abstract, figure-rejecting art like Frankenthaler’s. Even when we know a work is intended as abstract, viewers instinctively search for recognizable forms when faced with confusion. Paradoxically, the more abstract the painting, the greater the effort we expend trying to identify figures within it. My interpretation of Tout à coup is thus filled with uncertainty, insecurity, and excitement. Perhaps abstraction itself is a deliberate challenge Frankenthaler sets before her audience.”
— Lawrence Cai (2028)
This Frankenthaler piece immediately drew me in through the intensity of its color. The combination of the deep orange background and the vivid red ink feels both complementary and striking, creating a warmth that feels alive. I love how open it is to interpretation—it can become anything depending on the viewer’s imagination. To me, the incomplete circle resembles a sun, spreading its red-orange glow across the canvas. Beside it, the dark shape feels like a figure sitting and watching, perhaps reflecting on the end of a day or looking ahead with quiet hope. The square below transforms into a shifting body of water, while the scattered marks underneath suggest sand, movement, or even fragments of memory. I’ve always been drawn to warmer tones, so the earthy richness of this piece makes me think of blood and life itself, a reminder of our connection to vitality and existence.”
— Aranza Noriega Blondet (Communication Studies ’27)
Helen Frankenthaler, All About Blue (1994)
“My favorite piece in the Frankenthaler collection was All About Blue. I was immediately drawn to it because blue and orange are my favorite colors. They’re also the colors I used to decorate my room, and I immediately thought that the piece would look really good on my wall. I love orange and blue because of the way they contrast and make each other pop. I think Frankenthaler naming the piece All About Blue really emphasizes this because the orange and white accents just create further depth to the blue surrounding it.
Of course, Frankenthaler’s work is pretty abstract, but I do see some semblance of body parts in the line work in the piece. Specifically, a torso on the top left, legs going down the left side, a thigh and calf on the bottom right, and bright orange buttcheeks at the bottom.”
— Lily Shen (Economics ’26)
Helen Frankenthaler, Door (1976-1979)
“Looking at Door, I’m immediately drawn to how the colors seem to soak and drift across the paper, like they’re moving on their own. Nothing feels fixed; instead, it is open and shifting, almost like a landscape dissolving into a memory. The title makes me curious because it doesn’t look like an actual door. Instead, I think about ‘door’ as a threshold to something unknown. This piece makes me think about the moments of life that are in the in-between, when you know change is coming but not what specifically comes next. The painting holds a strange mix of control and chaos. The colors flow in ways that seem spontaneous, but at the same time, I sense careful intentions behind where they land. That balance keeps me looking and wondering whether the piece is guiding me or if I’m freely and randomly sinking in it.”
— Serina Wood (Anthropology and Native American and Indigenous Studies ‘27)
Helen Frankenthaler, The Blue Stairs (cover)
“When I first viewed the Frankenthaler exhibition, there was one object that immediately caught my eye. In part, it may have grabbed my attention because of its size and shape, being significantly smaller than any of the prints that surround it. The curatorial choice of including a (presumably) commercially produced book amongst more classically ‘high art’ prints. It’s intriguing to see art expressed and recognized in an aspect of a work that is often considered to be secondary to the actual content of a book. After all, you’re not supposed to judge it by its cover, but yet it’s the cover alone that’s being highlighted for display.
It’s also one of the few pieces in the exhibit that includes text, some of which is beautifully matched to the shade of blue in the cover art. This very fine attention to detail continually prompts me to think about how much deliberation went into the rest of the cover, into creating the shapes and lines that otherwise seem so organic and unmeditated.”
— Laurel Anderson (Environmental Engineering and Archaeology ’28)
Victoria Yau, Large Stones (c.2000)
“The stones feel like they’re swimming. A school of tadpoles, perhaps, or bacteria. We can feel the shapes bleed into each other and themselves—some spots touch, others don’t. Some tadpoles are slower than others—they bump, they bleed, but continue traveling the very same way. The paper is creased and textured, with just enough grip for the ink to sit comfortably on its folds. Does the paper slow them down? Does it stop their bleeding, change their shape? I imagine them seeping into the crevices, finding their folds, settling there. A fuzzy grey border marks where they seep out, ever so slightly, and stop. That’s as far as they will go—placed one way, but the border is organic and their own. Every tiny drop lands in its very spot, shaped by the paper and its drive, settling until it is perfectly and wonderfully itself.”
— Keya Soni Chaudhuri (Learning Sciences and Journalism ’27)
Adja Yunkers, Untitled, from the portfolio Poems for Marie José (1969)
“Sails have become an obsession of mine. Each morning, I wake up surrounded by sail photographs, drawings, and sculptures across my room. When I first saw this piece, it struck me as a contemporary vessel, its peacock-like opulence rising behind yellow mountains, arriving from a blue sky, carrying something good, bad, necessary, or forgettable. Adja’s mixture of primary colors evoked in me a sense of belonging, a place where movement and beauty coexist.
The irony, though, lies in the form of the sail itself. In reality, a sail should be straight, yet in this painting it is not. Instead, it bends and shifts, creating a disturbance that makes me feel as if I am under the water, looking upward at its distortion. That perspective, suspended between clarity and disruption, captures why sails have become more than objects to me—they are metaphors for uncertainty and vision.
— Renato de Souza Elisanio (Economics and International Studies ’26)
Sam Gilliam, One
“This piece by Sam Gilliam originally stood out to me because of its 3-D nature, abruptly contrasting with the surrounding flat canvases in the rest of the exhibition. I am really drawn to its illusory effect on me as it ripples against the wall and sometimes moves when the air conditioning blows just hard enough. This work allows us as viewers to experience the effect of print on cloth versus the traditional canvas and paper shown throughout the gallery.”
— Symone Harris (Social Policy ’26)
