Jealousy and Passion 1993

Editor: Here we have Gary Hume's "Jealousy and Passion" from 1993, an acrylic-on-aluminum piece. I'm immediately struck by how…flat it feels, almost like a brightly colored stencil. But then those blood-red lips pull you in! It's unsettling and captivating, like a beautiful danger. What's your take on this rather bold piece? Curator: Oh, "bold" is definitely a keyword here! It feels like a secret whispered in technicolor, doesn't it? I'm interested in that supposed flatness you mention – is it really *flat* though? I see layers, subtle modulations in those glossy surfaces... the yellow body is, for me, the color of apprehension – a bright, sickly yellow that sings of hidden depths. Those flashes of vibrant red and poisonous green disrupt everything. Hume is whispering, “Everything isn’t alright.” I think that these flat planes that collide so sharply—the red, green, yellow—are just, pure, unadulterated emotional jolts. Editor: Absolutely, there's something uneasy about those colors sitting next to each other! Like they shouldn't work, but they demand your attention. And thinking about the title "Jealousy and Passion"… Curator: ...does it reframe how you perceive those jolts? Does that clashing vibrancy mirror the messy tangle of those emotions? The green, that sickly sweet, deceptive calm… Is it covering for that scarlet rage lurking just beneath? Hume isn't giving us answers, is he? He’s setting a stage. It makes me think of Hitchcock somehow! Editor: It does evoke a kind of simmering tension. I initially saw just bright colors, but now I notice this intense undercurrent! Curator: Exactly! Art doesn't just show, it whispers. And sometimes, it screams without making a sound! So I feel I learned to better read into the subtleties. Thank you for opening the stage to this Hitchcockian scream, er, I mean, artwork. Editor: Thank you for all of your fantastic insights! I’m excited to revisit the museum, considering everything we've just discussed.