Bedheads 2018

Editor: So, this is Lisa Yuskavage’s "Bedheads" from 2018, painted in oil. It’s… kind of unsettling? The whole scene has this off-kilter, green tint, and the figures seem so exposed. I can't quite decide how it makes me feel, really. What's your take? Curator: Unsettling is a good word. Yuskavage’s work often sits in this interesting space – are we titillated, uncomfortable, or strangely moved? It’s definitely the kind of bedroom scene we aren't meant to see. The heavy, almost sickly, green light—almost cinematic, wouldn't you say?— does a lot to throw us off balance. What do you notice about the composition? Editor: Well, the figures are off-center, almost cropped, like we're peeking in. And the man taking his pants off – or putting them on? – blocks a lot of the space. It makes it feel very… intimate and awkward. Curator: Precisely! It's intimate, but not necessarily romantic. The composition disrupts any sense of idyllic love. Look at the woman – reclined, yes, but is she comfortable? Her gaze seems almost confrontational, or perhaps simply disinterested. Is there any other feature that jumps out at you? Editor: The two wine glasses – that seems like it means something! Are they empty? Maybe they had a fight and aren't talking to each other? Curator: Ah, the wine! The loaded symbolism of a shared drink – or the lack thereof. A post-coital scene or maybe pre. Yuskavage enjoys leaving things deliberately ambiguous; we are the ones who create meaning from those clues and interpret what’s unfolding – or unraveling – in that green boudoir. Editor: So it’s up to us to decide if it's romance or…something else entirely? I'm still processing the green. Curator: Absolutely. She uses these artificial colors to provoke us. It's like a dream…or a nightmare. It leaves us wondering about the truth of intimate moments, how we choose to portray it – or perhaps how it actually unfolds, even for ourselves. Editor: Huh, I’ll definitely look at Yuskavage differently now! Thanks for the insights.