Sunflowers 

Curator: Here we have John Bratby’s painting simply entitled "Sunflowers." The medium appears to be oil paint, rendered in a vigorously Expressionistic style. What are your immediate thoughts? Editor: Claustrophobia, maybe? The density of the brushstrokes and limited color palette give a stifling feel to what should be a bright, open subject. Curator: An interesting reaction. Sunflowers, of course, carry rich symbolism, often associated with adoration, loyalty, and longevity because of their movement following the sun. What meaning do you ascribe to these particular ones? Editor: Well, if sunflowers can signify optimism and warmth, Bratby certainly subverts that expectation. The aggressive application of paint almost smothers the life out of them. It’s as if he’s presenting us with the violence inherent in the commodification of nature. They feel caged. Curator: Violence, a powerful word. It prompts me to think about memory. Looking at these sunflowers, one cannot help but think of Van Gogh's series on the same subject. There is a clear departure in technique. Whereas Van Gogh rendered his with a certain luminosity and reverence, these, as you pointed out, have a very different feel. Perhaps the choice of subject matter then speaks to continuity and change, challenging expectations around beauty and representation. Editor: Exactly. It's like Bratby's acknowledging art history and deliberately working against it, refusing any sense of the picturesque. The thick impasto emphasizes the materiality of the paint, almost as if to highlight the artificiality of the image itself, divorced from any idealization of nature. The bold color choices work against easy harmony as well. Curator: It could even be argued, going back to your initial reaction of claustrophobia, that the artist is responding to the post-war cultural climate. After periods of intense uncertainty and perhaps disillusionment, Bratby questions what could truly be regarded as bright and optimistic. It's almost as if he’s saying that the sunflowers, for all of their symbolism, are trapped, weighted down, and struggling to turn toward a light that no longer feels accessible. Editor: Absolutely. This "Sunflowers" isn't a celebration; it’s a critique. It challenges us to confront uncomfortable truths about our relationship with the natural world and with our own history. Curator: An intriguing perspective indeed. Food for thought next time one considers that sunflowers will always make one feel cheerful.