Self-portrait 

Editor: So, this is a self-portrait by Armand Henrion, painted with oil, seemingly sometime around the late 19th or early 20th century given the impressionistic style. It's striking, almost haunting in a way, with the clown makeup and the cigarette. What do you make of it? Curator: Ah, Henrion. A complex soul, no doubt wrestling with the jester's paradox. The clown, the mask, a smokescreen for what? Is he laughing *at* us, or *with* us, or simply laughing to keep from weeping? It's the beauty of a self-portrait – a mirrored conversation between the artist and the canvas, or perhaps, a staged duel! The way the smoke curls – fleeting thoughts given momentary form – it suggests impermanence. Does that resonate with you? Editor: Absolutely. It makes you wonder what he was trying to conceal. Or reveal, maybe? It's vulnerable, despite the clown facade. Curator: Precisely! The very act of masking is a form of unveiling. The white face isn't blank; it amplifies every twitch, every glance. It makes me think of the theatre—of lives performed on many stages. What do you see in his eyes? A question for all our self-portraits, really! Editor: I see… a touch of sadness? And maybe, a glimmer of defiance. Like he’s daring us to judge. It really draws you in. I hadn’t considered the performance aspect so explicitly. Curator: Art is about opening our eyes, opening our minds! Hopefully he would want us to laugh...but at what ? At him, at ourselves ? What do you think? It's quite a thought. Editor: Definitely food for thought. Thanks so much. Curator: A pleasure!