Estuary 

Editor: So, we’re looking at "Estuary," an acrylic painting by John Miller. It’s…strikingly minimal, almost dreamlike. I get a sense of vastness, but also a kind of serene isolation. What do you make of this scene? Curator: Isolation, yes! I think you nailed it. To me, this whispers of those quiet moments when the world holds its breath. Look how Miller plays with the edge where the land kisses the water—a zone of infinite potential and gentle, almost hesitant touch. He reduces the scene to its very essence – a sky, an ocean, and a shore. What feeling do you get from that sparse composition? Editor: It's like he’s stripped away everything unnecessary, leaving just the bare bones of a landscape, and the light bouncing off the beach makes it so calming. Is this sort of simplified landscape common for this artist? Curator: It isn’t so much the style that’s common, but that emotional simplicity. He takes scenes from nature, right? A perfectly natural event made on some timescale to be captured. And with his style, the emotion of such events shines through more than it does in reality. I think the question to ask ourselves is: "Does reality exist like this, too, just waiting to be recognized?” Editor: That's interesting – reality waiting to be recognised! It definitely adds another layer. I came expecting a seascape, but I think I found something deeper, almost…meditative. Curator: Exactly. It's like a visual haiku – simple, yet profound. Miller invites us to find our own peace in that liminal space, to contemplate the endless horizon within ourselves.