Paris and Oenone 

Editor: We're looking at "Paris and Oenone," an oil painting by Jean-François de Troy. I'm immediately struck by the drama in the sky, and the couple seems caught in a moment of tension. What's your take on this scene? Curator: Well, for me, the turbulent sky perfectly mirrors the inner turmoil, doesn't it? De Troy, dabbling in this mythological potboiler, asks: Is it a lovers' quarrel, or something deeper? It whispers of fate, perhaps – that old chestnut of impending doom. Tell me, doesn't Paris look just a tad too keen to be anywhere but *there*? Editor: Definitely! He looks like he’s about to bolt. Oenone, on the other hand, seems almost resigned. Do you think that was common at the time to show that sort of gendered resignation in paintings? Curator: It's hard not to see it through a 21st-century lens, isn't it? I reckon it reflects the baroque flair for dramatic emotional display, yet also perhaps hints at power dynamics, then or even now. It’s less a gentle cooing than a battle of wills wrapped in silk and scandal. But maybe that's just me being cynical after too many gallery openings. Editor: That's fascinating! I hadn't considered the power dynamic so explicitly, more just relationship discord, but now I can see more clearly what's portrayed, thank you. Curator: The joy is that it's forever open to your own interpretations, darling. Maybe tomorrow we'll see something different entirely, just like love, eh?