In the Waves 1889

Editor: So, here we have Gauguin’s “In the Waves,” painted in 1889. The oil on canvas shows a woman reclining, and I’m immediately struck by how the green and white clash – is it turbulent or peaceful? It’s strangely unsettling. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Ah, yes. That clash, that’s the rub, isn't it? Gauguin's never been one for easy answers. I sense a tension between the ideal and the real, between a yearning for escape – maybe to the South Seas that so captivated him – and a harshness, almost a melancholy. The very vividness, the unnatural greens, hints at that longing. Doesn’t the composition seem almost claustrophobic, too, with that high horizon? Almost like the sea is pressing down? Editor: Definitely a weight to it! It's as if the figure is trapped, not enjoying a carefree swim. And that almost unnatural skin tone too… it’s intriguing. Curator: Indeed! That's Gauguin for you – colour not just for description, but emotion. Almost symbolic. A bold choice of vermillion for the hair perhaps representing a passionate intensity of desire. What do you suppose he's trying to suggest about the relationship between humanity and nature, in his Tahiti visions? Editor: It's clearly complex. It feels like there's more going on beneath the surface – maybe a tension between attraction and alienation? Not your typical paradise. Curator: Precisely. And isn't it marvelous how art can hold such seemingly contradictory feelings at once? Something that, at first glance, seems simple can unfurl into something so incredibly intricate and human. Editor: Definitely! It really changes how I initially saw it. I came in expecting simple beauty, and instead I'm leaving with…questions! Curator: Excellent! That's the magic. To never let a work simply wash over you, but allow yourself to be taken by the riptide!