The Lie, plate one from Intimacies 1897

Editor: Here we have "The Lie, plate one from Intimacies", a black and white print made by Félix Edouard Vallotton in 1897. I'm struck by its starkness; the contrast is so high, and yet the figures seem strangely intertwined and intimate. What kind of narrative do you think Vallotton is trying to create here? Curator: It’s funny, isn’t it, how a picture so seemingly simple can whisper such complex stories? This is a woodcut, so consider how much is carved away, as much negative space as the positive – creating tension. The scene speaks of closeness but there is unease – a lie as it says. The figures merge together in this interior of claustrophobic vertical lines, trapping them. But notice also the sharp geometry contrasting with the fluid lines of the woman's dress, as well as the artful still-life scene set for afternoon drinks that feels somehow foreboding and untouched? What feelings do they evoke for you? Editor: I see what you mean about the contrast now. It feels unsettling. Almost like something is about to be disrupted, the drinks remain untouched. They aren't really connected? Trapped. Curator: Precisely! Perhaps the intimacy is a performance, a deception... Or maybe, the 'lie' refers to something less dramatic, a small dishonesty that festers within a relationship, subtly distorting affection. It feels modern, the emotional subterfuge of domestic life, a kind of slow burn as if about to shatter or fade entirely. A domestic drama contained on paper. Don't you think? Editor: Yeah, that makes sense. The image is loaded with emotion! It looks simple but really isn't. Curator: Indeed! And Vallotton's genius lies in making us feel it, inviting us into a story, only to leave us with more questions than answers. He manages to create these intense psychological pieces with what seem like minimal elements – almost as if reducing everything to a dramatic essence. Editor: Wow. I never thought a simple woodcut print could hold so much tension and psychological complexity! Thank you. Curator: The pleasure is all mine. It’s what makes looking at art such a thrilling venture, don't you think? It's always teaching.