Te Atua (The Gods) Small Plate [verso] after 1895

Editor: Here we have Paul Gauguin’s “Te Atua (The Gods) Small Plate [verso],” likely made sometime after 1895. It's a woodcut print, and right away, I’m struck by its almost dreamlike quality, the rough texture creating this feeling of looking into another world. What's your take when you see this work? Curator: Oh, that rough texture *is* the point, isn't it? Gauguin, bless his rebellious heart, wasn’t trying to make something conventionally beautiful. For him, it was about capturing a raw, almost primal energy. You see him grappling with the exoticism of the South Pacific, filtered through his own very Western lens, of course. I see shadows dancing, stories whispered across the ocean… Do you get that sense of searching, of a kind of beautiful, maybe flawed, appropriation? Editor: Absolutely. The figures seem to be emerging from, or perhaps sinking into, the background. Is he trying to depict the gods themselves or rather his own interpretation of them? Curator: Precisely! He's not documenting Polynesian deities, he’s *conjuring* them. And isn’t that more interesting? The heavy lines, that near-brutal carving… it’s as if he’s trying to unearth something deeply felt within himself, projecting his own romantic notions onto this "other" culture. Do you think it romanticizes a culture Gauguin never entirely grasped? Editor: I do, actually. There's a tension here, admiration mixed with a sort of colonial gaze. The contrast of darkness against a bit of light also creates mystery! Curator: That darkness is where the magic happens, I think. And that inherent tension, the space between reverence and appropriation – that’s where the real dialogue begins, doesn't it? I think looking into the dark shadows also speaks volumes of what’s already gone in culture, but still visible. I learned so much speaking about what appears romantic! Editor: This really sheds light on viewing art within its context and that, art will not be perfect!