Quai de Montebello, Winter 

Editor: We're looking at Edouard Cortes's *Quai de Montebello, Winter,* an oil painting rendered with impressionistic brushstrokes. I’m immediately struck by how the warm glow from the buildings and the trolley contrasts with the chilly winter setting. What pulls you in when you view this artwork? Curator: Oh, isn't it delicious? Like biting into a sugared plum on a frosty day. Cortes really captures the spirit of Paris—a bustling, almost theatrical stage set against the backdrop of the Seine. The air itself feels thick with history, doesn’t it? But it’s the dance between light and shadow that really grabs me. Notice how the snow-dusted trees become delicate silhouettes against the looming Notre Dame. It's almost as if Cortes is saying, "Even in winter, Paris glows." Does that resonance strike you at all? Editor: Definitely! I appreciate how he’s used the light to pick out specific details – like the reflections on the wet street – drawing our eye through the scene. But how much of what we're seeing is reality, and how much is romantic idealisation, do you think? Curator: Ah, a wonderful question. Cortes wasn’t just documenting a scene; he was composing a memory, maybe even a longing for a simpler, more elegant time. There’s a dreamlike quality here. Look at those figures hurrying along; they’re like characters in a play, aren’t they? The scene isn't just pretty, is alive with stories— both real and imagined. Perhaps Cortes offers us not just what was, but what he wanted the city to *be*. And perhaps, by extension, ourselves as well. What does Cortes ask *you* to be as the viewer, I wonder? Editor: It feels like he’s inviting me to be present in that moment, despite the years separating us. It’s like a postcard from a bygone era. Curator: Exactly! Art is not just a historical record. The beauty resides in this connection – this sense of feeling and seeing alongside the artist and the people in his world. What a lovely gift he gave us.