Untitled 

Editor: Here we have an intriguing "Untitled" piece by Lothar Charoux. Looking at the geometric arrangement, it almost feels like a sound wave visualized, or perhaps the layout of a city viewed from above. What do you make of it? Curator: Cityscapes, soundscapes… I love where your imagination takes you! It reminds me of an experiment—a quest to chart the subtle dance between order and chaos. Look closely: rows upon rows of rectangles, each a slightly different size, with those dark squares anchoring the whole composition. I see musical notation, or some form of primitive data visualisation. What if it's a map, charting not space but some feeling? A memory, maybe? Editor: Feeling is definitely present. I’m wondering what feeling. Anxiety, maybe, or suppressed potential. There are the blocks getting larger, and then they fade at the top of the plane... Curator: Ah, I sense what you're saying—almost like the rising, and fading, of a musical scale. I find a sort of peace in the repetition, though. Think of the simple pleasure in noticing that *almost* perfect symmetry and alignment of everything. Like staring at clouds and letting your imagination run free. Did the artist struggle with repetition? It really is a rather engaging tension, wouldn't you say? Editor: Yes, and it makes you wonder about artistic intention! So the artist's "Untitled" piece leaves space for the viewers and ourselves to feel that repetition and intention... to just feel! Thank you for illuminating how engaging this experience is. Curator: Absolutely. Art's all about the feeling and thinking that happens *within* us, isn't it? Thanks for going with me on that cloud gazing journey.