Troubadour 

Editor: Remedios Varo’s *Troubadour*, made with oil paint and colored pencil, has a kind of fantastical quality that really grabs you. There's a strange peace in this little forest scene with its part-human, part-animal figures. What leaps out at you when you look at this piece? Curator: Ah, the *Troubadour*. What I see is Varo at her most playfully mystical, weaving a tale not just with imagery, but with a vibration, a song humming beneath the surface. That elongated boat, more serpent than vessel, whispers of journeys—but inward ones, don't you think? Editor: An inward journey... because he's in his own world of music? Curator: Precisely! And notice how the musician isn't quite engaging with the creatures around him. It’s a private performance. I think she might be trying to show that in each of us is a world of our own imagination that others may never grasp. Almost like how only a tree knows its own rings, hidden beneath the bark. Don't you feel a sense of melancholy about that, though? Editor: A little, but there's a sort of quiet strength there too. Curator: Beautifully put. It's like finding resilience in solitude. Editor: That feels right. It really does change how you see it when you think about the journey being so internal, and all those little mysteries hinting at the possibilities within. Curator: Indeed. Art can be quite wonderful in its quiet, subtle ways!