Paris, A Young Lady In A Gallery 

Curator: Albert von Keller, though not much remembered today, invites us into a privileged moment of Parisian life with his painting, "Paris, A Young Lady In A Gallery". Editor: Immediately, it’s the subdued passion of the reds that strikes me, a grounding and somewhat domestic choice which balances the artifice of her finery and the gallery setting. Curator: Exactly! The woman is seated amongst the other paintings in the room as if she were a piece of artwork herself. And that second empty chair with the framed painting facing her, could it be a conversation between portraits? Editor: Portraits reflecting on portraits...yes, and observe that umbrella! In iconography, umbrellas have stood for power, shelter, divine favour, all sorts of protections… But the way it’s casually slumped there—is the symbolism being questioned? Curator: Von Keller certainly loves embedding the portrait within the genre painting. It reminds me a bit of how writers insert themselves into the story, or perhaps even more daringly, invite the reader in. It feels like a very intimate game with seeing. Editor: This recalls something like a hall of mirrors in visual form—who is truly looking at whom, what is the reality? Those intense reds and the golden hues further underscore the ambiguity. Curator: And there's this kind of dreaminess from the almost blurring brushstrokes; very unlike traditional formal portraiture. Von Keller is offering us this intimate snapshot almost as if to suggest these art-viewing moments can be a quiet revelation. Editor: A visual memory. In her stillness, maybe that stylish lady with a lovely hat really is looking at herself. Or perhaps we viewers now function as an alternative reflective surface? Curator: The power of art to both portray and invite contemplation, like the gentle melancholic atmosphere itself—what could be more intriguingly Romantic? Editor: The symbolic load feels intentionally muted and dreamlike… the mystery almost touches the point of being absurd! So many frames, and us also observing—delicious.