Come tomorrow 

Curator: Looking at Nigel Van Wieck's oil painting, "Come Tomorrow," the first thing that hits me is the loneliness. That blue, that heavy, almost oppressive blue of the night… it just permeates everything. What jumps out at you? Editor: Initially, it’s the interplay between the cool blues and the warm yellows—the contrast creates a visually arresting composition. Van Wieck masterfully uses light and shadow to define the geometric forms of the motel architecture, emphasizing the structure's horizontal linearity. Curator: Right, the composition is striking. But it’s also a bit unsettling, isn’t it? The figure standing there, on the cusp of something, bathed in that stark doorway light… it's like she's stepped out of a dream, or maybe a forgotten movie scene. Editor: Precisely. The figure's placement adheres to classical principles of proportion, subtly reinforcing a sense of balance and harmony. Consider, too, how the "MOTEL" sign looms overhead, its stark neon asserting a commercial yet detached presence in this tableau of anticipation. Curator: Commercial and detached…yes! It adds this layer of vintage Americana tinged with… well, desperation. It's that classic trope of the transient, the lonely traveler, the…promise of tomorrow that may never come. And those three stars in the sky…pinpricks of hope in a vast, indifferent universe. Editor: Symbolically, the open doorway serves as a threshold—a transition between states of being, between the public exterior and the private interior. Van Wieck utilizes semiotic cues to suggest themes of longing, anonymity, and the temporal nature of existence, filtered through the lens of late 20th-century modernism. Curator: I always find myself wondering about her story. Who is she waiting for? What decisions has she made that led her to this exact point in time, beneath that flickering motel sign? Maybe, though, the point *is* that we don't know. Editor: Indeed. By deliberately withholding narrative specifics, Van Wieck encourages us, as viewers, to engage in our own processes of meaning-making—constructing personal narratives that resonate with the artwork's inherent ambiguities and suggestive forms. The true strength lies not in answers, but in possibilities. Curator: Yes, leaving us with possibilities. Ultimately, it feels as though Van Wieck has painted not just a picture, but an emotional question mark. Editor: Elegantly phrased. A question mark rendered in oil, light, and shadow.