The bright, airy rooms of the Beyeler Foundation on the outskirts of Basel could not be a better location for a solo show of the subtle, monochromatic works by Latvian-American artist Vija Celmins (b. 1938). I visited first thing in the morning, as the gallery opened its doors on a sunny June day — a sanctuary of tranquility in what is one of the busiest months in the art calendar. Celmins works at a seriously unhurried pace on each picture, reminding me also to slow down and observe more deeply.
Her practice began with paintings of the most banal, everyday objects found in her studio: heaters, lamps, pencils. These early works laid the groundwork for a lifelong fascination with translating the ordinary into the extraordinary. Moving through the galleries, I found myself gradually drawn in by her mesmerizing images of night skies — black spaces pierced with hundreds of white dots that seem to emit their own inner light. The intense attention to surface, to subtle tonal shifts, lends these works a near-hypnotic quality. Some take on a square format, evoking immediate associations with Kazimir Malevich’s iconic black square, but here reimagined as a cosmos of infinite depth.
Celmins’s art rewards patience and a contemplative eye. Her night skies are at once vast and intimate, cosmic and deeply personal, inviting viewers to lose themselves in their boundless dark fields. These meticulously rendered images function almost as portals, transporting us beyond the white walls of the museum toward something elemental and eternal. In an era of constant noise and speed, Celmins offers a quiet, steady resistance, encouraging us to rediscover wonder through close, attentive looking — and reminding us that stillness can be a radical act.
