The End of the Image: How a Single Artwork Survived By Vanishing
Sei Smith’s Conceptual Project, The Painting’s Journey, Redefines the Art Object as Pure Narrative.

New York, November 6, 2025
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The typical art encounter is that of sight: the artist presents a work, and the viewer sees the work. In Sei Smith’s, The Painting's Journey, that encounter has been switched. The artwork exists in the public sphere only through an accumulation of its descriptions, a series of writings composed by the few who hosted it. This project dissolves the image, the market, and the very notion of a canonical object, leaving behind a nebula of text. The result is an artwork that is arguably more vivid in the mind’s eye than it ever could be on a gallery wall.
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Smith explains that the project is about transformation: "The artwork is ultimately about the transformation of a painting into a potentially infinite series of ideas/stories. Every participant writing about the painting is slowly facilitating that transformation." The artist's role moves from the primary creator to the conceptual architect, or as he might suggest, an equal contributor. He is actively seeking a new balance of responsibility for meaning, pondering, “I wonder if a viewer of art can be equally responsible for the meaning of the art as the artist, I’m looking for that balance, so it feels like we are both contributing to ‘creating the art’ with a mutual respect and appreciation.” This transition, for Smith, was potentially initiated the moment the piece left his hands: “I seceded ownership of the painting as soon as it first left my studio. As it traveled from home to home collecting and becoming memories and stories, the different participants in this project had brief periods of complete ownership that then became shared ownership as we all let the painting travel to its next destination”
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Smith's work, as described is a small, vertical canvas overlaid with a reflective, foil-like material which was deliberately used as a catalyst for change, a mirror for the viewer’s shifting reality. One writer/viewer, Anya Turnbell describes a split composition: "Iridescent violet on the top half of the canvas area, gold on the bottom." Crucially, she notes the violet instantly changes to a "bluish silver, like snow at night" as the light fades. The painting is therefore not a painting at all, but a continuum of ephemeral reflections.
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This inherent instability is potentially what frees the writers. They are confronted with the fundamental subjectivity of perception, writer/viewer Stephen Lurie, contrasts the technological vision of the James Webb Space Telescope with the human limitations of sight. For Lurie, the artwork forces a humbling realization about how little our gaze matters: "Almost everything is that awkward three: the thing that we face, the thing that we are, and the light between." The colors, he concludes, are never just two, but a whole spectrum dictated by angle, distance, and time of day. Will Heinrich describes the art object as a "portal to the present moment." William Corwin describes the work as equivocal, functioning as a mirror and an indifferent portrait of the viewer. Corwin perceives the abstraction as a "field of snow at dusk," evoking "Narnia in the snow," and views it as an "intruder" in his space.
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The writers/viewers operated in a space that preceded traditional art criticism, blending description with testimony into an act of authorship. They were not primarily tasked with judging the work’s success or value but with embodying and validating its existence. When Anya Turnbell questions, "Why is this a painting? Where are the brushstrokes?", she delivers a powerful meta-critique of artistic convention. Similarly, when a writer like Alison Bradley connects the work’s fugitive light to the monumental scale of Walter de Maria’s Lightning Field, they perform an act of art historical positioning that establishes the work's conceptual lineage. The critique is thus embedded within the observation, transforming personal experience into the building block of the artwork itself.
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As the art traveled, the descriptions evolved from formal observation to deeper narrative projection. The writers, stripped of the visual context that typically guides interpretation, allowed their memories and their subconscious to fill the gaps. Sofia Thieu D’Amico focuses on a subtle physical imperfection, transforming a wrinkle into an oceanic scene: "At its center, a graceful crease glides along the canvas, bisecting the two foils. Just behind, a smaller crease swims to the side. They are a mother whale and her small calf seen from above, traversing an open, iridescent sea." In this moment, the artwork's identity is completely subsumed by the viewer’s inner world. Each description does not merely interpret the painting; it contributes a necessary, indelible layer to its public existence.
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This process of creation finds its final frontier in the act of reading. Smith affirms that the collective writing is indeed “incomplete until it is actively read and visualized by a reader.” Even more broadly, the artwork’s life continues through conversation: “if someone who has read the writing, and tells their friend about the project, that explanation could also be a completion of the artwork.” The artwork’s survival, therefore, hinges on the human tendency to share curiosity—a goal Smith articulated clearly: “I wanted to understand and see what it’s like to think about art outside my own thoughts, and then I wanted to share that curiosity with everyone.”
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Smith’s ultimate gesture—declaring the artwork free from any future exhibition or photography—is a powerful contemporary move. By choosing language over image, he has circumvented the entire commodified art system that demands a singular, documented object. He has decided the final disposition of the physical piece, though its fate remains a secret, in keeping with the spirit of the work: “I think it’s often more fun to not know fully.” What remains is not a physical inventory item, but a poetic, layered, and perpetually unseen masterpiece—a testament to the power of the imagination, and a thrilling answer to the question of how an artwork can achieve immortality through dispersal rather than display.
