Ventriloquist 1986

Curator: Jasper Johns' "Ventriloquist," held here at the Tate, is, for me, like peering into the artist's studio—a jumble of the everyday made extraordinary. Editor: My first impression is one of ordered chaos. The grid-like structure battles with the seemingly random placement of objects and that slightly unsettling green version of the flag. Curator: It's true. Johns often used commonplace items—flags, targets, numbers—to explore how we perceive and process symbols. He elevates the mundane with labor. Editor: Absolutely. The printmaking process itself, the layering of colors and textures, speaks to the act of making, the artist's hand so visible in every element. Curator: I feel the title, "Ventriloquist," hints at the artist projecting his own thoughts and feelings onto these objects, giving them a voice. Editor: And it implicates us, the viewers, in the conversation. The work is a reminder that objects contain layers of meaning shaped by materials, context, and our own projections. Curator: I always find something new to contemplate. Johns invites us to consider the space between things, the stories objects carry. Editor: A powerful demonstration of how the familiar, reshaped through artistic labor, can defamiliarize the world and make us see it afresh.