Cold 1948

Editor: So, we're looking at Remedios Varo's "Cold" from 1948, created with tempera on, what I think is, cardboard. It's a deeply unsettling piece. The figure in the sky—is that a witch, a bird, death itself?—dominates the little village below. What strikes you when you see this painting? Curator: "Strikes" is exactly the right word! It has the chilling sting of a forgotten nightmare. For me, this painting is less about external "cold," and more about a profound internal emptiness. Do you notice how the snow, or whatever those falling particles are, doesn't seem to be blanketing or nourishing anything? Instead, it's a kind of sterile dispersal. A giving, perhaps, without warmth or life. And the figure—perched precariously, almost skeletal, on its geometric cloud. Doesn’t it make you wonder if that is a metaphor of reason and knowledge, perches unsteadily dispensing frigidity? Editor: Absolutely! It’s like intellect without empathy. That cloud-like form does feel like a fragile, icy idea. But is she in control, or trapped, on this crystalline structure? Curator: An excellent question! And, honestly, I think the ambiguity is key. Maybe it speaks to how we often cling to these brittle certainties, even when they isolate us, when we’d do well to let ourselves drop down, be absorbed, perhaps, back into the village. Editor: It definitely gives you a lot to think about, and definitely matches the title, Cold. Thanks for shedding some warmth on this icy piece! Curator: My pleasure! Now, I'm curious to delve even deeper myself…