Sol Doirado 

Editor: We're looking at "Sol Dourado," or "Golden Sun," a painting by Carlos Botelho. Although we don't have an exact date for it, it evokes a definite modernist sensibility. I'm struck by its almost dreamlike quality. It's a cityscape, but the severe lines are softened by the warmth of the ochre tones, right? What do you see here? Curator: Warmth is a lovely word for it. "Bathed in honey" also comes to mind. I love how Botelho reduces a cityscape to its barest geometric bones, like a memory slowly fading into a golden haze. You know, squint your eyes a little... What do you feel? Editor: Still warmth... And serenity? Like a lazy afternoon. But those sharp angles make it a little uneasy, too. It's not *quite* real, is it? Curator: Ah, precisely! That's where the modernism sings, isn’t it? This isn't about replicating reality, but capturing its essence. Think about a child's drawing of a town... familiar shapes, simplified, imbued with emotion. Do you see echoes of Portugal’s bright light here? It feels less about architectural accuracy and more about the *feeling* of a place simmering in the sun. Editor: Yes, I can totally see that now! I was getting caught up in the shapes, but it’s so much more about the atmosphere. It’s playful, like Botelho is inviting us to remember what it feels like to *be* there. Curator: Exactly! It's a sensory memory painted in gold. It reminds me that abstraction isn’t about escaping reality, but about distilling its purest poetry. Editor: I never thought of abstraction like that, but it makes so much sense seeing how Botelho uses colour. It's as if he’s painting sunlight *itself*. Curator: And, ultimately, doesn’t sunlight transform everything it touches?