Edward Hopper’s (1882 - 1967) visions of American solitude — motel rooms, gas stations, empty theaters, sunlit storefronts — draw attention to both his handling of composition equally as the haunting loneliness. His work draws on a deep engagement with American light: the hard, clear light of New England, the yellow light of late afternoon, the artificial light of modern commercial spaces. He almost never painted figures in direct communication with one another, and the emotional register of his work — suspended, unresolved, neither tragic nor comic — is entirely his own.