Seven A.M. 1948 by Edward Hopper

It is seven in the morning, and the store has yet to open. But perhaps it never will, having been abandoned long ago. There are no goods in the window, only a few plain, insignificant things: three soda water bottles and two prints or photographs mounted on card, perhaps as decoration. The clock on the left wall, the most interesting feature in the display, shows the time. In the interior of the store, empty shelves and a cash register are visible. What is, or was, sold here? What is Hopper telling us?

Jo Hopper wondered, too, and in notes that supplemented her husband's journals - a four-teen-volume studio diary con-taining sketches from memory of all his oils - she surmised the store was a "blind pig" or a speakeasy, a place i llegally purveying alcohol during the Prohibition. She also thought she could discern a pool table in the back.

Hopper leaves the question as to the nature of the store's business open. The design of the picture resembles that of Cape Cod Evening. In both cases there is a transitionless and slightly eerie juxtaposition of dark woods with light-colored building extending diagonally into the picture, and in both cases the dark zone seems to encroach on and threaten the structure.