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It must be time for me to go home and decompress. I read the title as something having to do with Christmas, and was very confused when I saw the picture.
No apologies needed. It's just my brain throwing words around like it knows what's going on. :)
I'm a glass-half-empty person when it comes to Hopper's 'American culture' paintings. They all seem bleak to me. I do really like his landscapes and seascapes though.
I admire it, but don't like it because I identify too much with it. Closing down the late-night coffeeshop after a long shift or delaying sleep at a 24-hour diner or even lingering in the empty break room at work because going home requires accepting the fact that there's nothing there, and it's unfortunately easy to get the idea that there probably should be.
I love Hopper. I think his works replicate the way you feel when you finally have a moment where no one is pestering you, a moment of unhurried solitude, and you can just look around and think about things in a relaxed, fuzzy early-morning or just-had-a-glass-of-wine kind of unstressed way. They become a little bit of a Rorshach for whatever kind of thing it is you might be thinking in a moment like that. They feel restful, like you're allowed to stop for a moment and not react. Some of them show something somber or serious, but it's like the subject is the subject, but the real subject is you the observer taking in the subject.
I just realized that the feeling I'm talking about tends to be the way I feel when I'm hanging in an airport waiting for a flight. Just observing and feeling.