Seeing Red 

Editor: So here we have "Seeing Red" by Dan Graziano, done in oil paint, apparently en plein air. There's a kind of stillness in the scene despite all the city elements... palm trees, traffic lights, even a little restaurant patio. How do you read this, especially with that bold title? Curator: You know, it strikes me as an ode to the mundane. Graziano’s eye seems to fall on those everyday, almost jarring encounters – the red of the traffic light holding up movement, the red of the awning beckoning pause. Think about the way red hits us—alert, urgent. What is he urging us to notice in this snapshot of city life? Is it perhaps about finding vibrancy within the routine? Editor: That's interesting...a kind of vibrant monotony. I initially just saw it as a simple, almost photographic, scene. Curator: Precisely, and consider that "seeing red" isn't just about anger or frustration, right? It can also signify stopping, pausing, reflecting. It might be a visual pun! Do you see how the soft edges and brushstrokes almost melt these ordinary objects together? Editor: Yes, they aren’t sharply defined. It gives it that slightly dreamy, impressionistic feel. The edges sort of blur. Curator: Like a fleeting moment caught on canvas, wouldn’t you agree? Like how a memory blurs over time, so we are just left with the faintest impressions and strongest colours? Editor: Absolutely. I’m starting to see that even in the most commonplace setting, there's an artist’s invitation to slow down and find meaning. I’m guilty of just speeding through the reds of my day. Curator: As are we all, perhaps.