Red Devil 1959

Curator: So, looking at Gene Davis’s "Red Devil" from 1959, it’s all about these fiery vertical lines, painted in oil, doing their rhythmic dance on the canvas. Editor: Whoa, it’s intense, isn’t it? That orange just vibrates. Gives me a sort of retro, almost psychedelic feeling, like staring into a heatwave. There's such an interesting duality there: calming because of the linear simplicity, yet chaotic in its boldness. Curator: I feel that. It's Colour Field painting, which sought to remove narrative. What do you make of Davis choosing such a loaded color? It demands a certain visceral reaction, doesn't it? The devil as provocation. Editor: Absolutely. And considering the sociopolitical landscape of 1959—cold war anxieties, the burgeoning Civil Rights movement—that intense red, a traditionally symbolic color of revolution or war... it's intriguing, even confrontational. Is Davis subtly hinting at underlying tensions? Or is it merely a formalist experiment devoid of meaning? I love those art movements which question reality, which challenge ways of living, existing, making art and society. Curator: The lack of narrative definitely lets us bring our own context, doesn't it? Makes it eternally relevant in a weird way. Editor: Exactly. Red can be passion, danger, or simply… a choice. The placement of that triad of paler yellow and white lines against the mass of color, shifts the ground, like a signal breaking through the noise. A statement about individuality, maybe? The way he plays with scale, repetition, pattern… there's something very visceral happening here. Curator: Maybe it’s simply Davis's sense of rhythm on full display, a jazzy solo transcribed in lines and colors. It’s hard not to feel something when you stand before it. Like a visual song. Editor: Yes, its beauty and tension feel undeniably linked to the historical context of that moment, like peering into the collective psyche. It's like staring into an abstract expression of cultural heat. Curator: I'll see you at the exit. Editor: Indeed, a potent mix of form and… unspoken narratives, continuing to burn long after 1959.