Pretty, Broken Flower 

Curator: This piece is titled "Pretty, Broken Flower" by Sarah Joncas. There's a kind of melancholic allure to it. Editor: Melancholic is right. The pink backdrop and candy initially suggest something saccharine, but then you notice the tears, the snake, the skull tattoo. It’s unsettling. I wonder about Joncas’ choice of medium here, because I'm intrigued by the surface quality—smooth, almost like vinyl, yet undeniably rendered by hand. Curator: Exactly. I see that push-and-pull as core to its impact. The artist has built a fascinating commentary about the cultural obsession with beauty, but does so in this hyper-polished, digitally influenced style that reflects the modes through which beauty is both constructed and consumed today. It raises interesting questions around production: How does Joncas’ process reflect or subvert expectations of labour intensive craftsmanship. Editor: The snake also really catches my attention, because that and the skull reference classic vanitas motifs, reflections on mortality within art history. We often see such tropes revived by younger artists finding inspiration online or at institutions. In many respects Joncas is playing with the visual vocabulary of Instagram or Tumblr even if that is not the explicit subject matter. It reminds us that all works of art—including portraits such as these—speak to and borrow from one another. Curator: Absolutely. The title also indicates she understands and embraces those associations. "Pretty, Broken Flower" points not just to beauty's fragility, but to our perhaps inherently destructive relationship with it. Like a wilting flower that we might discard, this figure exists as both alluring and already in decay. And it seems that her character is as performative as any image made for digital consumption, her features perhaps perfected through the filters so readily accessible on contemporary media platforms. Editor: It does leave one to wonder if the rise of this particular style speaks to a larger crisis in the production of imagery, given so much work is being delegated to algorithmic networks in place of the human hand. "Pretty, Broken Flower" operates as both a reflection and critique. A powerful statement, wouldn't you agree? Curator: Indeed. It encourages one to consider their own place and desires within that complex web.