Froanna, the Artist's Wife 1937

Editor: Here we have Wyndham Lewis’ 1937 painting, "Froanna, the Artist's Wife," rendered in oil. The pervasive reds create such a singular, almost overwhelming feeling, don't you think? What's your take on how the color affects our reading of the portrait? Curator: The red, yes, it's practically shouting at us, isn't it? Lewis was never one to shy away from intensity, darling. But I find the "how" almost as compelling as the color itself. Notice how that red envelops almost everything—chair, robe, the walls practically vibrating, even inflecting her complexion. What feeling do *you* get? To me, it suggests confinement, warmth… perhaps a kind of stifled domesticity? Think about what was going on politically in Europe at the time. Even a domestic interior, soaked in crimson, can whisper of revolution or unrest. Do you feel that? Editor: I didn't really make that connection at first, I just noticed the way the shapes almost bleed into one another because of the limited color palette. Revolution feels a bit dramatic, but I see the tension there, definitely. Curator: Dramatic? Life *is* dramatic, love! Particularly for an artist who always swam against the tide. Look closely at Froanna's gaze – level, direct, but not necessarily confrontational. It is interesting to consider it alongside that insistent red. Editor: Now that you mention it, the red seems to be making a kind of statement itself, about passion and the kind of turbulent context of that time period. Thanks, I hadn't thought about it that way before! Curator: Darling, that's what art is all about, isn't it? Letting the colors – and the times – whisper their secrets to us. It’s all about listening closely.