Mortar c. 1940

Curator: Hester Duany, a name unfamiliar to many, offers us "Mortar," circa 1940. Predominantly watercolor and charcoal on paper, it’s a striking, almost austere depiction of a, well, mortar. Editor: Immediately, it feels like an old soul rendered in earth tones. A goblet almost, with the heft of history, even loss. Does anyone even use mortars anymore? Curator: Indeed. It speaks volumes about labor. Duany’s technical skill highlights a pre-industrial tool in sharp focus. It grounds us in an era of manual production, hinting at social constructs influenced by available technology. It asks about how value is physically created. Editor: Value… right. I just get a sense of quiet domesticity tinged with the slightest melancholic echo. The wood grain's lovingly rendered though; almost poetic. Look at how light plays on its curves – a whispered tribute. Did she actually use one of these herself? Curator: Considering the timeline, quite possibly. This rendering elevates it, yes, but doesn't lose sight of its purpose. Think of the anonymous hands shaping ingredients, and consider Duany’s engagement. The surface of this drawing becomes a site of inquiry regarding how meaning adheres to even the humblest implements. Editor: Inquiry! Yes... but for me, this single mortar represents much more. A silent witness to human toil, memories ingrained in those wood fibres. It feels like a personal meditation by Duany - the artist imbuing utility with unexpected grace. Curator: Perhaps this unexpected connection hinges on our willingness to excavate beyond mere functionality. It begs us to consider our ongoing negotiations with objects: Their manufacture, lifespan, and eventual relegation to relic status, transformed into the symbolic, or simply quaint. Editor: It certainly has me pondering on all that, and more, now. "Mortar"—understated magic made manifest through Duany's quiet talent. It is quite poignant, in its peculiar way.