We're at the opera, but we're not really watching the opera. We're watching a woman who's watching someone who's being watched.

She's leaning forward and she has probably a 19th century sort of binoculars to her face.

So she's very keen on what she's looking at.

When we look at this painting, our gaze is drawn to her gaze.

There's something of like a sea captain in her,

because she's so intent on the horizon, you know,

and she's really giving a direction right

she's like for onward almost you can almost imagine her on a communist poster

but for the bourgeoisie.

I feel like I've been in her position before when I look at this. I love to

attend theaters and operas and I have my own little like set of binoculars I take with me.

Everyone loves some people watching.

I'll admit I've sat just like these people with my opera glasses looking around you know at the Boston Opera House or some other

theaters in the city just looking at people. It just cracks me up because there's a guy looking at her in the back there, right?

And he has binoculars just staring at her.

The gentleman in the back is very interested in her.

I wonder if he's going to go over to her box, present himself.

And that also puts me in her position because that has happened as well. You know, you're

looking at other things and you just look over and you see someone just staring at you and that's just part of life I guess.

But that the way he's very casually like his arm is up almost around his companion and yet he's staring out, you know, almost staring at us and so is he

observing us or is he observing her? preserving her.

Does it make any difference to you that this was painted by a woman? Perhaps it's some kind of a greater sympathy with the person she's painting.

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