Bridget Riley - Measure for Measure

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BRIDGET RILEY

BRIDGET RILEY
MEASURE FOR MEASURE
NEW DISC PAINTINGS
Essay by Éric de Chassey
Galerie Max Hetzler Berlin | Paris
Holzwarth Publications

4 Study for Measure for Measure 1, 2016, acrylic on polyester, 51 x 51 cm

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6 Study for Measure for Measure 16, 2017, acrylic on polyester, 51 x 51 cm

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8 Study for Measure for Measure 18, 2017, acrylic on polyester, 51 x 51 cm

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10 Study for Measure for Measure 19, 2017, acrylic on polyester, 51 x 51 cm

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Installation view, Galerie Max Hetzler, Paris 2017: Study for Measure for Measure 16, 2017; Study for Measure for Measure 1, 2016; Measure for Measure 18, 2017;
Measure for Measure 19, 2017; Measure for Measure 16, 2017; Measure for Measure 1, 2016

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Installation views, Galerie Max Hetzler, Paris 2017: Study for Measure for Measure 18, 2017; Study for Measure for Measure 19, 2017;
Study for Measure for Measure 16, 2017; Study for Measure for Measure 1, 2016

Measure for Measure 19, 2017; Measure for Measure 16, 2017; Measure for Measure 1, 2016; Measure for Measure 5 (Wall Painting), 2017
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THE PLEASURES OF PERCEPTION
Éric de Chassey
Georges Seurat, The Bridge
at Courbevoie, 1887–1888,
oil on canvas, 46.5 x 55.3 cm.
The Courtauld Gallery,
London
Bridget Riley, Copy after
‘The Bridge at Courbevoie’
by Georges Seurat, 1959,
oil on canvas, 71.1 x 91.4 cm.
Private collection
In 1959, Bridget Riley copied Georges Seurat’s painting The Bridge at Courbevoie
(1887–1888; p. 16). In 2017, she was copying Seurat’s painting The Couple (1884; p. 18).
In both cases, she was working from a reproduction; in both cases, she was diverging
from the original in a conscious way: in 1959, by changing the dimensions and format,
as well as adding new colours; in 2017, by starting from a slightly hued ground instead
of a white canvas. One should note that there is hardly more chronological distance
between Seurat’s Bridge at Courbevoie and Riley’s than there is between Riley’s first
copy and her more recent one. In the meantime, she has become a renowned abstract
painter and her knowledge of the French artist has become much deeper (just as the
bibliography on his work has been expanding immensely, in sync with the number of
exhibitions devoted to it). And while her own paintings at the time of her 1959 copy
were versions of what she could grasp and use from her predecessor’s, they are now
the result of a lifelong engagement with abstraction and painting reduced to its essentials,
not looking much like Seurat’s. I saw the 2017 copy – alongside several other studies
from Seurat – in Riley’s studio at the same time as I first saw Measure for Measure 1
(2016; p. 37), a square painting composed of sixty-one discs of the same size in three
greyed secondary colours (off-green, off-violet and off-orange), arranged according to
a tight and regular grid of eleven lines and columns, spaced on an immaculate white
background. It is part of a series of Disc Paintings (2016–2017), along with other paintings
and wall works that use the same devices in various combinations of rectangular and
square grids, always with the same three colours. This series is as much a result of Riley
looking one more time at Seurat – especially in the context of the exhibition explicitly
titled Bridget Riley: Learning from Seurat that took place at the Courtauld Gallery from
September 2015 to January 2016 – as it is a new exploration of the visual effects obtained
by the repetition on a limited surface of discs which vary only in colour.
*
I won’t go into too many details on Riley’s relationship with Seurat, as it has been aptly
covered, recently by Karen Serres and Barnaby Wright 1 , as well as by Richard Shiff 2 . Riley
herself devoted several essays to the artist and gave interviews on his effect on her art
and life. Suffice to say that the Disc Paintings renew her dialogue with Seurat’s methods
while departing from his results and appearance. Her choice of colours does not obey
Seurat’s principles of applying the laws of contrast of colour devised by Eugène Chevreul
and Nicholas Ogden Rood; they partake of a new set of inquiries that are clearly Riley’s
own, based on observation and a constant development of trying and learning from one
work to the next, without adhering to external rules. The paintings which they compose
are research canvases, as much as Seurat’s were toiles de recherches 3 , but they are not
divisionist paintings as Seurat’s, even though they use separate monochrome dots as their
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main tool and thus could be called ‘pointilist’ (if one wished to think that a point can
reach the size of a full disc). In order to be divisionist they would require at least four
colours and not three. I know of only one instance where Seurat uses the same triad of
violet, orange and green, albeit in a saturated state and with the violet closer to blue: it
is the background in Study for ‘Le Chahut’ (1889–1890; above). But there, the colours are
juxtaposed in such a way as to create various areas differentiated by their dominance
of one tone against the others and, as Robert Herbert has noted, they ‘throb to the
rhythms of contrasts with the light or dark of the figures’ of the dancers and orchestra
members. 4 In Riley’s paintings, the colours, strictly equal in value (if you look at black
and white reproductions, they appear uniformly grey and white), are here on their own
terms, contrasting only with the white that supports and separates them as a ‘neutral
vehicle’. 5 They remain discrete and distinct, although they take part in linear rhythms
and, through their accented repetition, in the global squares or rectangles that they
compose. In so doing, they are, in a way, more faithful to Chevreul’s advice to painters
than Seurat’s: ‘The qualities peculiar to painting in flat tints are: – Purity of outline;
Regularity and elegance of forms; Beautiful colours properly assorted... Simplicity in
the whole, so as to render clear and distinct view easy.’ 6 (The passage I just omitted
from my quote – ‘whenever opportunity permits, the most vivid and most contrasting
colours may be advantageously employed’ – might constitute a next step.)
As Seurat applied on his canvases brushstrokes of simultaneous complementary
colours that were called by each previous tone so that a general harmony could
be reached, Riley reaches her own harmony through carefully selecting the number
of circles of each colour, so that, in the final compositions, neither of them dominates,
even if, in general, there are more violet circles than green and orange ones. She
controls the amount and saturation of each tone so that, contrary to what happens in
Seurat’s paintings, they don’t produce contrasting colours. When viewed from certain
distances, they produce what could be called contrasting shapes and lights, that is, white
discs of the same size as the coloured ones, as if the whole composition were made of
a close juxtaposition and sparkling of circles, some coloured (and material), some uncoloured
(and transient) – of pure light so to speak, such as can be experienced in nature
Georges Seurat, The Couple,
1884, oil on canvas,
81 x 65 cm. Fitzwilliam
Museum, Cambridge
Georges Seurat, Study for
‘Le Chahut’, 1889–1890,
oil on canvas, 21.8 x 15.8 cm.
The Courtauld Gallery,
London
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in our mind and in our eyes. 7 *
when a blazing light discolours everything and leaves only some hints of what they are
in other situations, here rendered permanent through paint. This sensation is particularly
striking when you look successively at the Studies for Measure for Measure (2016–2017;
pp. 5–11) and at the final paintings of the same format (as well as at the murals from
the same series; pp. 34–45). The polyester on which the former are painted, as well as
the white margin that surrounds the composition and their smaller dimensions, yield
very animated spaces, which nevertheless never destroy the general sense of harmony
and calm; whereas the latter, painted on a medium-size linen, and without margins, look
more stable at first glance, but then acquire some animation, before returning to a state
of stasis, albeit one that results from an equilibrium of tensions and subtly registers these
Deny 2, 1967,
acrylic emulsion on
canvas, 217.2 x 217.2 cm.
Tate, London
This difference (to which you could add the first studies on paper for the recent series,
from 2015) is a clear testimony that Riley does not look only at the art of other artists but
also creates her own works in order to learn from them by making them. In 1970, she
stated: ‘My direction is continually conditioned by my responses to the particular work in
progress at any given moment. I am articulating the potentialities latent in the premise
I have selected to work from’ 8 – and has since remained true to this statement. As she
does not actually paint the final versions but lets her assistants do so, she learns primarily
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y looking at them, thus experiencing what we, as viewers, will do when the works are
finished and exhibited. Just as Seurat established his ‘basis’ in each painting and proceeded
from there to the next one (the writer Émile Verhaeren described how ‘in front
of his annual production … he showed the results that he had reached, the clear certitudes,
what he called “the basis” [la base]’ 9 ), she starts each of her paintings ‘from a basis’,
as she also calls it, a concrete one in each case, as well as a broader one, constituted by
her own previous works and by the conscious decision to use only limited means,
completely abstract, in each new work.
One of her most famous statements reads: ‘I work “from” something rather than
“towards” something.’ 10 During her whole life, Riley has been learning as much from
herself as from looking at other artists: the Disc Paintings are thus less the results of
a dialogue with Seurat than embodiments of what she learned through creating each of
her own works, of what she has been learning by looking anew at her own older paintings,
and of a new strand of questions that she is asking herself, in painting, and which will
lead to further paintings.
*
Riley has used discs since the early 1960s – as one shape amongst the many she had at
her disposal since ‘forms such as triangles, squares, circles, rhomboids etc. were no
longer burdened by the heavy load of associations and symbolic overtones which they
had carried in the 20s and 30s... They were simple forms without any pretensions, in a
condition for working with.’ 11 But they disappeared from her paintings on canvas in 1967
(after Deny 2; p. 19). Except in some studies on paper from 1970–1971 (the Circles Colour
Structure Studies, see e.g. Scale Study Ochre Cerise and Turquoise in Closed Discs, 1970;
above), which never made it into a fully realised painting, and a small, exceptional series
of paintings of 2011 (Two Yellows, Composition with Circles; p. 21), they were always
colourless – at most variations from black to white, through a diversity of greys. In most
cases, they were actually not discs, but circles or ovals that changed direction or were
superimposed on each other to create visual patterns that registered disappearance and
Scale Study Ochre
Cerise and Turquoise
in Closed Discs, 1970,
gouache and pencil
on paper, 30.5 x 66.4 cm.
Private collection
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Two Yellows, Composition with Circles 2, 2011, acrylic on canvas, 112 x 112 cm. Private collection
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eappearance of an initial shape, sometimes stabilised as full circles or discs, only to be
transformed again (in the case of Black to White Discs [1962; above], for instance, composed
of the repetition of the same shape, one loses the sense of this repetition through
the gradations of greys to which it is submitted).
White Discs 1 and 2 (1964; pp. 23, 24) are striking exceptions, and they might help
us understand what is at stake in the Disc Paintings. They are made of black discs of three
sizes, apparently aleatory but in fact organised in a diagonal grid according to the same
progression of sizes, interrupted by gaps that the eye, once it has registered the logics
of the initial schema, fills with the black discs that should have been there if there had
been no disruption, while seeing white discs in absentia. Maurice de Sausmarez commented
that ‘the three sizes of discs have been carefully selected to generate different
weights of after-image’. 12 In the Disc Paintings, size variation has been replaced by colour
variation, so that the white after-images all have the same weight and compose a more
homogeneous field, which plays against the chromatic variation of the three tones
(already muted and played down by the choice of a greyed variant): each Measure for
Measure painting is thus a tour de force in mastering the chromatic divergences, so that
they don’t rip apart the unity of a composition in establishing diversity into unity, and
vice versa. Riley had tried to do so in the Circles Colour Structure Studies 1970/71 through
the concentric enclosure of smaller discs inside larger circles, explaining then: ‘It is
Black to White Discs,
1962, synthetic emulsion
on canvas, 178 x 178 cm.
Private collection
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White Discs 1, 1964,
synthetic emulsion
on board, 132 x 132 cm.
Private collection
very important that each form finally relinquishes its separateness in the whole. It must
be fully absorbed. So while it is necessary in the early stages to analyse each unit, my aim
is to enable it to release sufficient energy to precipitate its dissolution in totality.’ 13 This
encircling was enough to establish diversity without letting it go astray, as already proven
against the extreme regularity of the placement of black and white concentric circles in
Dilated Centres (1963; p. 25). The Measure for Measure series, as well as the wall painting
Cosmos in Christchurch Art Gallery (2016–2017; pp. 26–27), are proof that Riley is now
able, through careful and intuitive placement of each greyed colour in an extremely
regular composition made of identical shapes, to work with separate forms that never
relinquish their identity while never destroying the unity of the whole. On the contrary,
the coloured circles, through a combination of regular repetition and specific variation,
build up that unity from their separateness (just as they did in the black and white works
of 2013–2015, based on irregular triangles 14 ).
The grid is here the privileged instrument of this unity through diversity. Riley
has pointed out that Mondrian’s Compositions with Grid from 1918–1919 seemed unsatisfactory
to him because ‘the verticals and horizontals cancelled each other; the result was
confused, the structure was lost’. 15 But once, when teaching, she asked her first year
students to copy Composition with Grid 9: Checkerboard Composition with Light Colours
(1919; p. 28). 16 The results were of such interest to the students that the third-year class
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asked that Riley might also set them the same task on her next visit. The new Disc Paintings
use the grid as a basis to justify and organise the placement of the discs as a regular
structure, which is made both more implicit (it appears as such only in the preliminary
studies on paper) and more forceful through the amount of white that separates each
disc from its neighbours and thus separates the grid as an underlying structure that we
feel, and the discs as the regularly paced forms that we see. Even when, as in the 2017
rectangular Wall Painting shown at Galerie Max Hetzler in Paris (pp. 44–45), the regularity
of placement of the discs is broken down, the underlying orthogonal grid is still perceptible,
established by the orthogonal borders. But it also becomes explicitly combined with a
diagonal grid, which encompasses the lapses in the regular placement of the discs, just as
it did in White Discs. In fact, in all the recent Disc Paintings, even when each crossing of
the implicit lines is filled by discs, as in the wall painting Cosmos or the Measure to
Measure paintings on canvas, these two combined grids are there to be experienced, both
through their roles as underlying structures and as orthogonal and diagonal lines built by
the adjacent placement of discs of the same colour (this never happens for the green
discs, which always remain isolated). It is this grid that enables the discs to be both
discrete images and part of a global composition of which they are the elementary basis.
White Discs 2, 1964,
synthetic emulsion
on board, 104 x 99 cm.
Private collection
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Dilated Centres, 1963,
synthetic emulsion on
canvas, 167.5 x 167.5 cm.
Private collection
In the square format of the Measure to Measure paintings and the two contemporary
square wall paintings, there is no privileged direction, even if, because of the
numbers of discs chosen, there is always a centre disc. Depending on the way I look
at the painting, it appears centrifugal or centripetal (the square format also ensures that
there is no spilling of the image onto the borders, that is to say the mind does not continue
what it has learned inside the motif). It establishes a relationship to the body of the
viewer: if I come close, I see most discs as a peripheral halo; if I step away, it performs
as a picture (un tableau). The horizontal rectangular murals (especially the one that was
installed at Galerie Max Hetzler) are much less centred, and they veer between stability
and instability, agitation and harmony, anxiety and composure, depending on the way and
the moment we look at them. The discs bump and bang, as if they were billiard balls or
atoms, although fully bidimensional, and then they seem to be creating static patterns
that our gaze isolates and combines to build a global field. They model organised randomness
or random organisation, which is very much like our lives: no centre, no centres,
except in the sense that each disc always reads as a centre for our vision, around which
the surrounding discs organise themselves; only axes.
It could be intuited that the use of greyed variations on the secondary colours
in the 2016–2017 Disc Paintings stems from a lesson learned from looking at Mondrian’s
Composition with Grid 9: Checkerboard with Light Colours, which similarly used muted
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26 Painting Cosmos, 2016–2017, with Verticals graphite (Green and Painting), acrylic on plaster 2006, Öl wall, auf 148.2 Leinwand x 460.2 / oil cm. on Installation linen, 194,4 view, x 388 Christchurch cm Art Gallery, 2017

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variations on the primaries, and assessing how it was successful instead of constituting
a dead-end (one could also cite as lessons several plates of Chevreul’s Laws of Contrast
of Colour, which are grids of coloured dots on a white background 17 ). Most certainly, it is
in fact a return to the previous use of this triad of colours in one of Riley’s own earlier
works, Vapour (1970; p. 30). 18
Riley deemed this painting sufficiently relevant to her current needs to rework
it in 2009 (Vapour 2; p. 31), but it had remained a hapax in her whole output. In Vapour,
as Robert Kudielka has shown, each colour was constantly affected and transformed
by the effect of the twisting of narrower stripes inside vertical bands: ‘This… crossing
(called in Riley’s studio parlance ‘colour-twist’) effectively destabilises the colour
identities because the supporting stripes, as they taper into acute points, can no longer
protect the particular colour they carry against the influence of neighbouring hues.’ 19
Here, they are to be seen for themselves, as agents that create a general sensation of
vapour. Riley described the sensation it had in Vapour: ‘The fugitive quality of something
which is obscure or difficult to penetrate. A vapour or mist veils or hides something.
It de-materialises the material and has a beauty all of its own.’ 20 Here, as she herself
points out, the discs ‘release light into the surrounding areas.’ 21 The vapour is both in
the discrete forms that compose the painting (albeit without them being anything but
a flat, depersonalised, shape) and emanates from the whole picture. It is something that
would be difficult to experience in nature, except in very extreme states, and is thus
entirely pictorial – the creation of a new world. A world created by the discretion of
colours and the discreteness of the discs, which anchor us into the painting and gently
lead us into the vast riches and pleasures of perception, a-proportionate to the simplicity
of the means used by Riley.
Piet Mondrian, Composition
with Grid 9: Checkerboard
Composition with
Light Colours, 1919, oil
on canvas, 68 x 106 cm.
Haags Gemeentemuseum,
The Hague
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1
See Karen Serres and Barnaby Wright, ‘Riley and Seurat: An Introduction’, in Bridget Riley: Learning from Seurat,
exh. cat., London: The Courtauld Gallery / Ridinghouse 2015, pp. 9–23.
2
Richard Shiff, ‘Our Instinct Enhanced’, in Bridget Riley: Cosmos, exh. cat., Christchurch: Christchurch Art Gallery
Te Puna o Waiwhetu 2017, pp. 29–38.
3
Émile Verhaeren, ‘Georges Seurat’ [1891], Sensations d’art, François-Marie Deyrolle (ed.), Paris: Librairie Séguier
1989, p. 214.
4
Robert L. Herbert, Georges Seurat 1859–1891, exh. cat., New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art 1991, p. 347.
5
The whiteness of the background here plays the same role as the stripe pattern that Riley previously used, about
which she stated: ‘Colour energies need a virtually neutral vehicle if they are to develop uninhibitedly. The repeated
strip seems to meet these conditions.’ Bridget Riley, ‘Conversation’ [1972], in Robert Kudielka, Robert Kudielka on
Bridget Riley: Essays and interviews since 1972, London: Ridinghouse 2014, p. 30.
6
Eugène Chevreul, The Laws of Contrast of Colour, translated from the French by John Spanton, London: Routledge
1861, p. 218.
7
It should be emphasised that each painting created by Riley has its own size; the effects it creates are dependent
on its specificity. The same composition on a different size is completely different in its effect on the viewer: this is
exactly what does not happen with the circle compositions of John Armleder or Damien Hirst’s Spot Paintings.
8
Bridget Riley, quoted in Maurice de Sausmarez, Bridget Riley, London: Studio Vista 1970, p. 91.
9
Émile Verhaeren, op. cit. (note 3), p. 215: ‘En face de ses œuvres annuelles … il indiquait les résultats obtenus,
les certitudes nettes, ce qu’il appelait “la base”.’
10
Bridget Riley, quoted in Maurice de Sausmarez, op. cit. (note 8), p. 20.
11
Bridget Riley, ‘Conversation’ [1972], op. cit. (note 5), p. 30.
12
Maurice de Sausmarez, op. cit. (note 8), p. 12.
13
Bridget Riley, ‘Conversation’ [1972], op. cit. (note 5), p. 32.
14
Riley has stated that Cosmos grew out of Cascando, a large black and white painting from 2015: ‘I changed
the unit, a triangle, to a disc.’ ‘In the Studio: Bridget Riley in conversation with Paul Moorhouse’, in Bridget Riley:
Cosmos, op. cit. (note 2), p. 21.
15
Piet Mondrian [1943], quoted in Bridget Riley, ‘Mondrian Perceived’ [1997], in Robert Kudielka (ed.), The Eye’s
Mind: Bridget Riley, Collected Writings 1965–2009, London: Thames & Hudson 2009, p. 279.
16
See ‘Bridget Riley in Conversation with Jenny Harper’, ibid., p. 173.
17
In the Imprimerie Nationale version of Chevreul’s treatise from 1889, plate 28 is entirely made of rows of
off-green, off-yellow and ochre-grey (symbolising white) dots.
18
Richard Shiff has noted that ‘before devising the greyed variant of the triad green/orange/violet, Riley had used
this grouping in a saturated state in Gamelan (1969) and Orient 1 (1970).’ Richard Shiff, ‘Our Instinct Enhanced’,
op. cit. (note 2), p. 39, note 4.
19
Robert Kudielka, ‘Chromatic and Plastic Interaction’ [1996], in Robert Kudielka on Bridget Riley, op. cit. (note 5),
p. 166.
20
Bridget Riley [2014], quoted in Richard Shiff, ‘The Unaccountable’, in Bridget Riley: The Stripe Paintings
1961–2014, exh. cat., London: David Zwirner 2014, p. 34.
21
Bridget Riley, ‘In the Studio’, op. cit. (note 14), p. 23.
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30 Vapour, 1970, acrylic emulsion on canvas, 96 x 90 cm. Private collection

Vapour 2, 2009, acrylic on linen, 152.2 x 130 cm. Private collection
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32
Installation view, Galerie Max Hetzler, Paris 2017: Measure for Measure 16, 2017; Measure for Measure 1, 2016; Measure for Measure 5 (Wall Painting), 2017
Pages 34–35: Measure for Measure 5 (Wall Painting), 2017, graphite and acrylic on plaster wall, 190.5 x 190.5 cm

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36 Measure for Measure 1, 2016, acrylic on linen, 93.6 x 93.6 cm

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38 Measure for Measure 16, 2017, acrylic on linen, 93.6 x 93.6 cm

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40 Measure for Measure 18, 2017, acrylic on linen, 93.6 x 93.6 cm

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42 Measure for Measure 19, 2017, acrylic on linen, 93.6 x 93.6 cm

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44 Untitled Measue for Measure (Wall Painting), 2017, graphite and acrylic on plaster wall, 171.6 x 435.6 cm

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Installation view, Galerie Max Hetzler, Paris 2017: Measure for Measure 18, 2017; Measure for Measure 19, 2017; Measure for Measure 16, 2017;
Measure for Measure 1, 2016

LIST OF EXHIBITED WORKS
Measure for Measure 1, 2016
acrylic on linen
93.6 x 93.6 cm
pages 13, 15, 32, 37, 46
Measure for Measure 5 (Wall Painting), 2017
graphite and acrylic on plaster wall
190.5 x 190.5 cm
pages 15, 33, 34–35
Measure for Measure 16, 2017
acrylic on linen
93.6 x 93.6 cm
pages 13, 15, 32, 39, 46
Study for Measure for Measure 19, 2017
acrylic on polyester
51 x 51 cm
pages 11, 14
Untitled Measure for Measure
(Wall Painting), 2017
graphite and acrylic on plaster wall
171.6 x 435.6 cm
pages 44–45
Measure for Measure 18, 2017
acrylic on linen
93.6 x 93.6 cm
pages 41, 46
Measure for Measure 19, 2017
acrylic on linen
93.6 x 93.6 cm
pages 12–13, 15, 43, 46
Study for Measure for Measure 1, 2016
acrylic on polyester
51 x 51 cm
pages 5, 12, 14
Study for Measure for Measure 16, 2017
acrylic on polyester
51 x 51 cm
pages 7, 12, 14
Study for Measure for Measure 18, 2017
acrylic on polyester
51 x 51 cm
pages 9, 12, 14
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Published on the occasion of the exhibition Bridget Riley:
Measure for Measure. New Disc Paintings at Galerie Max Hetzler,
57, rue du Temple, Paris, 18 October–25 November 2017.
Text: Éric de Chassey
Copy editing: Lutz Eitel
Design: Hans Werner Holzwarth
Photographs: Anna Arca (pp. 5, 7, 9, 11, 39, 41, 43); John Collie (pp. 26–27);
Charles Duprat (pp. 12–15, 32–35, 44–46); Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd
(pp. 16 bottom, 20–25, 30, 31, 37), John Webb (p. 19)
Lithographs: Bildpunkt, Berlin
Production: Medialis, Berlin
Reference images: Georges Seurat, The Bridge at Courbevoie, 1887–1888,
Samuel Courtauld Trust, The Courtauld Gallery, London, UK/Bridgeman
Images (p. 16 top); Georges Seurat, The Couple, 1884, Joseph S. Martin/ARTOTHEK
(p. 18 left); Georges Seurat, Study for ‘Le Chahut’, 1889–1890, Samuel Courtauld
Trust, The Courtauld Gallery, London, UK/Bridgeman Images (p. 18 right);
Piet Mondrian, Composition with Grid 9: Checkerboard Composition with Light
Colours, 1919, Haags Gemeentemuseum, The Hague, Netherlands/Bridgeman
Images (p. 28)
All works and photographs © Bridget Riley 2018, all rights reserved;
with the exception of photographs taken by Bridgeman Images, John Collie,
Charles Duprat, Joseph S. Martin/ARTOTHEK, John Webb
Text © the author
Copyright 2018 for this edition: Galerie Max Hetzler Berlin | Paris,
Bleibtreustraße 45, d-10623 Berlin | 57, rue du Temple, f-75004 Paris
and Holzwarth Publications, www.holzwarth-publications.de
All rights reserved
First edition 2018
isbn 978-3-947127-06-1
Printed in Germany

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Painting with Verticals (Green Painting), 2006, Öl auf Leinwand / oil on linen, 194,4 x 388 cm

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ISBN 978-3-947127-06-1 / Printed in Germany
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Painting with Verticals (Green Painting), 2006, Öl auf Leinwand / oil on linen, 194,4 x 388 cm