St. George and the Dragon 

Editor: Here we have Scott Gustafson's painting "St. George and the Dragon." It appears to be an acrylic painting, and it has a surprising level of warmth despite the epic subject matter. How do you interpret this work? Curator: It's interesting that you perceive warmth, as that hints at the complexities Gustafson introduces into this very loaded narrative. I think we need to consider the context: St. George, often seen as a symbol of Christian, and, let's be honest, colonial triumph over the 'Other,' represented by the dragon. Now, consider the dragon's positioning, almost nuzzling George. Editor: Yes, it's not how I've ever seen St. George portrayed. It's... intimate? Curator: Exactly. What does it mean when the symbol of absolute, often brutal, power—the knight in shining armour—is engaging in something bordering on tenderness with the creature he's meant to slay? I think Gustafson invites us to question these binary oppositions. The usual narrative crumbles. He hints that even monsters are not monstrous by nature but are made so through social and historical circumstances. Does the dragon even want to fight? Editor: So, you're suggesting that Gustafson critiques the traditional interpretation of the myth? That it becomes a questioning of power dynamics, maybe? Curator: Precisely! It isn't simply a depiction of good conquering evil, but rather, a subversion of that narrative. What is evil? Who defines it? The power dynamics inherent in who gets to be the "saint" and who is cast as the monster becomes the central theme. Editor: This really changes how I see the piece. I initially saw a familiar story, but it seems to be turned completely on its head. Thank you. Curator: And thank you. Art like this demands we continuously re-evaluate these entrenched narratives.