I see the artist 

Editor: So, this is "I See the Artist," by David Burliuk, oil on canvas. The texture is incredible—all this thick impasto—and those floating eyes… gives me the creeps, honestly. What strikes you about this piece? Curator: It's a bold, raw assertion, isn't it? Those staring eyes, scattered like seeds across the canvas, give the sense of the artist scrutinizing both himself and the viewer. Do you feel as though you're being watched? That raw texture isn't just paint, is it? It's the artist's psyche laid bare, layer upon layer. Editor: Definitely watched! And I was going to ask about the… intensity? It’s not a peaceful still life, even with the flowers. Curator: No, it’s a far cry from placid. Burliuk wasn't interested in polite aesthetics, more so to dig at deeper meanings! The crude, almost childlike drawing and the strange juxtaposition of the moon, the eyes, the… is that a tiny self portrait in the bottom right? They seem almost desperate. How does that sense of urgency impact you? Editor: I hadn't noticed the moon, that shifts things! It feels… nocturnal. Like this is a secret confession of sorts. A night garden of anxieties! Curator: Precisely. Expressionism at its most vulnerable, perhaps? And the ‘I See the Artist’ title, that really underlines how self-aware it all is, a little bit melancholic perhaps? Editor: So, he is both the seer and the seen? That’s pretty potent. Curator: It makes me think about art as not just an object to be observed, but a conversation. One that perhaps never ends. Editor: I always thought a painting could express what one cannot utter, yet this piece really brings together visual and psychological dimensions in a special, albeit dark way. Curator: Absolutely. The painting asks us, what is it we truly see, when we see art? What do *we* see reflected back at ourselves?