At the Exhibit 1991

Editor: Here we have "At the Exhibit," a watercolor by Petros Malayan, dating back to 1991. It’s a lovely genre scene with such a calm and contemplative feeling, like observing a fleeting moment. What do you make of it? Curator: Isn't it enchanting? Immediately, I’m struck by the subtle humor – two women, perhaps a mother and daughter, adrift in an art space, one singing, the other more composed, seemingly lost in her own internal art critic's dialogue. It makes me wonder, what is *she* seeing that *we* aren’t, or vice-versa? And I wonder, who has never hummed, daydreamed, judged quietly in a gallery? Editor: Yes, I like the feeling it captures, a world within a world. Tell me more, what do you think the singing figure signifies? Curator: Perhaps she’s experiencing the art in a visceral, almost childlike way, unguarded, purely emotional, unburdened by art history! Whereas her companion embodies the more "serious" contemplation art supposedly demands. What a liberation to express a painting by singing its truth. Malayan is telling a human truth, you know? Editor: I see what you mean. It's almost as if he's contrasting different ways of experiencing art, a sort of humorous take on what it means to *engage*. I love how simply it is captured with the watercolour style. Curator: Exactly! And it makes me wonder if we are truly seeing, or just looking... There's a whole opera happening in those silent pauses in galleries, isn't there? Thank you for putting that question in my brain, now I'll never just see again! Editor: Well, thank you for opening my eyes a bit more too. Next time I'm in an exhibit, maybe I'll let out a little hum!