Philip Campbell Curtis
The Unveiling, 1979
Oil on panel
Gift of the Philip C. Curtis Trust

Selected by Chris Weir, Senior Marketing Specialist

Referred to by some as the “René Magritte of the Old West,” Arizona transplant Philip Campbell Curtis wanted his imagery to be puzzling. Like Magritte, Curtis ventured into the surreal and challenged viewers’ perceptions. Once, when asked whether people in his painting of an elevator were going up or down, he replied, ‘How the hell should I know? For all I know, they could be stuck.’

The Unveiling certainly matches the puzzler profile. I love the absurdity of the enormous sculpture, with a base that promises classical grandeur, situated in an absolutely desolate landscape. The emotions it elicits are similarly paradoxical—anticipation for the big reveal and disappointment over the absence of anyone to witness it. The wind in the hair of the young woman holding the rope suggests to me that she’s undeterred by the lack of audience.

While I’m dying to see the sculpture, the anticlimax keeps me rapt. It also makes me wonder whether Curtis himself knew what was under that sheet…