If you like to rush through museums, you don’t want to go with me. I have been known to plunk myself down in any museum and let the world go by while I look at a painting or sculpture. I’ve also been known to get emotional: the first time I saw Van Gogh’s “Sunflower’s” at the National Gallery in London, I wept. Yeah, hard-arsed Anon wept. Ya wanna get in my face about it?

So, today, whilst I was looking at my digital Hopper collection, I started to think again about the painting here. It’s titled, “Soir Bleu.” The obvious focal point is Pierrot. Not only is he in the centre, and his colouring forces our eyes to him; but most of the people in the painting are looking at him.

This is not the sweet innocent Pierrot of Dumas perè’s story. That little Pierrot, the eternal lover who never finds love, has little resemblance to this fellow. Look at him with his ciggie hanging from his lips. What are he and his companions doing? Are they merely drinking wine (or heavens forbid Absinthe!)? My first impression was that they’re playing cards. There aren’t any cards visible, but something is happening on the tabletop.

The man to the right of the painting is looking on with interest. Can we tell what he’s thinking? The woman across from him at his table appears to be wrapped in a blanket or towel. Or is it merely part of her frock? It would seem that they’re at the shore. Is that water in the background? Should we be concerned that the waves are that high?

The men at the table with Pierrot are mysterious. One looks to be a rascal with an oversized beret. The other is some kind of naval officer, but look at his epaulets: they are white, not gold.

The man at the table on the left is a sailor of some sort. The match lighter, so ubiquitous in Paris, sits on the table next to him. He seems to be talking with some person just outside the frame. Or do we imagine that? He is the only the person in the painting not looking at Pierrot. Then, there is that pole: it divides the picture and forces us to look back again at Pierrot.

The imperious woman just behind and to the left of Pierrot is looking down at him with obvious disdain. Her highly rouged cheeks are topped by her heavily mascara’d lashes. Her skin, as the other woman’s, is almost as white as Pierrot’s makeup.

Finally, the Chinese lanterns are blowing slightly in the breeze. It is titled “Blue Night,” it is twilight at the latest.

In Hopper’s paintings people didn’t communicate or were communicating in a secret sort of way. They were an intrusion into Hopper’s paintings. In his dystopic world, glances were avoided. Smiles were unheard of. It is only in his landscapes that we see something lovely in the world. When people appear, they rob us of our serenity. Their unhappiness is palpable and it’s disturbing.

Of course, this is probably because Hopper was so miserable. How sad, he was so incredibly talented and so incredibly unhappy.