Age of Anxiety 3 2018

Editor: Here we have Charles Gibbons’ "Age of Anxiety 3" from 2018, rendered in acrylic. The dynamic lines, in burnt orange and navy blue, immediately strike me as tense and almost violently energetic. What do you see in this piece? Curator: That's a very astute observation. The title itself points to a larger socio-political unease prevalent in contemporary society. The swirling lines and the contrast in colors – the energetic orange juxtaposed with the somber navy – evoke the feeling of internal conflict, don't they? I wonder, does the title change your reading of it? Editor: It does. Knowing it’s “Age of Anxiety” reframes the energy less as dynamic and more as… agitated. Like the energy isn’t going anywhere productive. Curator: Precisely. Think about how the formal qualities—the abstract forms, the lack of a clear subject—contribute to this sense of anxiety. The abstraction removes any specific context, making it universal and relatable to a broader audience grappling with uncertainty and precarity. Does this resonate with your experiences? Editor: Yes, definitely. The abstraction makes it feel very personal, almost like I’m looking at a physical manifestation of an emotion. Curator: Consider the artist’s use of line, the almost frenetic application of the paint. It speaks to a feeling of unease, a kind of visceral response to the pressures of contemporary life, particularly for marginalized bodies in the context of late-stage capitalism. Does it perhaps serve as a form of protest? Editor: That's fascinating. I hadn't considered it as protest, but I can see how the chaotic energy could be a visual representation of resistance against oppressive forces. Curator: Exactly. Art like this provides an important lens through which to view and critique the structures of power and the societal conditions that contribute to collective anxieties. Editor: Thank you. I came into this thinking about individual emotions, but now I understand how the personal and political are intertwined in this artwork.