When Did a Single-Colored Canvas Become Art?
Ad Reindhardt, Red
Let’s talk about monochrome art—the one-color canvases that, despite their simplicity, have sparked endless fascination and debate. This wasn’t just a stylistic experiment; it was a rebellion. These were artists tearing up centuries of tradition and creating something stripped down to the bone. And somehow, they made it stick.
It began with Kazimir Malevich and his Black Square in 1915. This painting was a manifesto—a black void daring you to engage with it. Malevich called his approach “Suprematism,” and subtlety wasn’t part of the plan. It was bold, defiant, and completely uninterested in catering to expectations. The art world wasn’t sure what to do with it, but they couldn’t ignore it.
Kazimir Malevich, Black Square
By the mid-20th century, monochrome art had grown into a full-blown movement. Yves Klein took center stage with his obsession with blue—specifically, International Klein Blue, a color he trademarked and used on everything from canvases to people. He claimed these ultramarine works were portals to the infinite, meant to evoke a spiritual experience. Whether or not you buy into that idea, standing in front of one feels like an exercise in both focus and discomfort.
Ives Klein, IKB 191
Ad Reinhardt approached monochrome differently. His black paintings appeared simple at first, but subtle variations and shapes would emerge if you spent time with them. They demanded patience, challenging viewers to slow down and really look. Reinhardt declared his works to be “the last paintings anyone could make.” It was a big statement, but the layered complexity of his work makes it less ridiculous than it sounds.
Ellsworth Kelly
Monochrome art was more about questioning assumptions than anything else. These pieces asked: “What is art? What happens if we strip it down to just one color?” It forced viewers to think differently.
Ellsworth Kelly and Agnes Martin offered their own takes on monochrome. Kelly’s massive, solid-color panels were presences, unmissable in their simplicity. Martin, on the other hand, worked with subtle grids and soft tones that felt more meditative than confrontational.
Agnes Martin, Friendship
Criticism has always followed monochrome art, with some dismissing it as too easy or shallow. In my opinion, it doesn’t hit you over the head with complexity. Its depth is quieter, it asks you to reconsider what you value in art. Whether you leave convinced or just confused, it makes you pause, and sometimes that’s all art needs to do.