Love Lies Bleeding 

Editor: Soey Milk's oil painting, "Love Lies Bleeding", presents a portrait almost overwhelmed by lush flora. It has this incredibly dreamlike, ethereal quality. How do you interpret this work, especially in the context of its title? Curator: The title is key, isn't it? "Love Lies Bleeding" evokes a specific, almost violent vulnerability. I immediately think of the plant, amaranthus, and how its drooping, blood-red flowers became a Victorian symbol of hopeless love and abandonment, loaded with gendered connotations. Considering that alongside the portrait of a Black woman, particularly one with a somewhat mournful expression, the work brings a complex web of historical associations into play, doesn't it? How does the artist negotiate these issues of identity and the historical weight of representation? Editor: That’s a compelling point. I hadn't considered the Victorian context so explicitly, but now that you mention it, there's this contrast between the delicate beauty of the painting and the implied suffering. Do you think the artist is making a specific statement about the pain of love experienced through the lens of Black womanhood? Curator: Perhaps. Or, at least, it raises these questions, doesn’t it? The positioning of the figure amidst the ‘bleeding’ flora suggests a stifling, an entanglement perhaps emblematic of societal constraints placed on Black women throughout history and even today. It is almost as if the artist asks: Whose expectations and desires are imposed here? Who profits from such visual regimes? How does she resist being a symbol or object, and instead emerges as a subject with inner life and agency? Editor: That gives me so much to think about. I initially saw a beautiful portrait, but now I understand that "Love Lies Bleeding" carries a powerful message about identity, history, and the complexities of representation. Curator: Exactly! And that’s the beauty of art, isn't it? It offers an entry point into considering ourselves in relationship with history.