[no title: p. 207] 1970

Editor: Esq Tom Phillips' print, "[no title: p. 207]", held at the Tate, feels incredibly dense, almost like a coded message. It makes me think of old detective novels with hidden clues. How do you interpret this work? Curator: Ah, yes, it’s like peering through a rain-streaked window. The dots obscure, yet they also reveal. It reminds me of trying to decipher a dream, all those fragmented images vying for attention. Do you see any words emerging from the haze? Editor: I can make out "As for the photograph..." It's intriguing, but also a bit unsettling, like something half-remembered. Curator: Exactly! Phillips often plays with found texts, burying and resurrecting them. Perhaps he's suggesting the unreliability of images, even photographs. A lovely paradox, isn't it? Editor: Definitely. It makes you consider what we choose to see, and what remains hidden.