Mark Rothko once said, "I’m interested only in expressing basic human emotions—tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on.” His paintings, frequently described as thoughtful fields of color, were never merely artistic experiments. They were intentional conversations with the deepest parts of the human condition. Rothko sought not just to be seen, but to be felt. He meant to evoke raw emotion through works that, at first glance, seem deceptively simple: floating rectangles of color on wide canvases. But look longer, and you realize that what seems simple is quite complex.
Born Markus Rothkowitz in Latvia in 1903, he moved to the United States when he was ten. He studied at Parsons School of Design under Arshile Gorky, where the influence of European Surrealism began to mold his artistic inclinations. With time, Rothko stripped color and form to their barest minimum, which Clement Greenberg later described as "Color Field painting." His rectangular works are layered histories that remain unseen by the casual observer. The misunderstanding that simplicity equates to ease only accentuates what is known as the Rothko effect.
When faced with Rothko’s serene minimalism, it is easy to think, "I could do that." However, when one tries to replicate it, the depth is lacking, the colors appear dull, and the emotional impact is missing. What remains hidden is the accumulation of experience, experimentation, failure, and reflection that lies beneath the surface. Perception is an active process; we construct our realities based on our experiences. When outcomes seem simple, we overlook the hidden efforts and years of practice that underpin them.
In organizations, transformative changes often stem from seemingly straightforward actions like a conversation or a connection. What appears as "common sense" is usually the product of deep experience, keen observation, and the gradual development of wisdom. When skilled practitioners of change make their work look easy, it is not because it is easy. It is because their mastery allows them to move through complexity with grace. Their ability to distill chaos into clarity is, itself, a work of art. Like Rothko’s paintings, their simplicity is not the absence of difficulty—it is the final result of it.
So the next time you're on a date with an artsy girl you matched with on Hinge and find yourself in front of a giant wall of color, pause instead of bluffing through it. Take a closer look. There might be more to it than meets the eye at first glance. What seems simple might have taken years to put just so. This is because the simplest things are often filled with countless unspoken decisions. Perhaps that's the essence of true beauty, it does not try to be noticed; it simply exists.
