Lantern c. 1939

Curator: We’re looking at “Lantern,” a pencil drawing by Benjamin Resnick, created around 1939. Editor: My first thought is "stark simplicity." There's something very functional and austere about the rendering, the utilitarian object front and center. Curator: It's a very direct image, isn’t it? The lantern, as a symbol, carries so much cultural weight. Light in darkness, guidance, hope. Considering the date, just before World War II, it feels especially poignant. Editor: Absolutely. I wonder about Resnick’s choice of pencil. It allows for a granular focus on the textures—the almost metallic sheen, the subtle gradations in light. Was he drawn to the humble, easily accessible nature of the material itself? A worker's tool for depiction? Curator: It begs the question, what kind of light was this lantern meant to cast? Is it a hopeful light, representing resilience, or does it point to a period when the simplest tools of survival became infused with symbolism? Editor: Perhaps both. And that circular opening near the top… almost like an eye. There’s something watchful about it, suggesting that even in darkness, there is observation, surveillance. I also notice the handle and think of the hand that would hold and carry this. Who made the lantern? And who carried it through the darkness? Curator: It’s interesting how the act of drawing transforms a commonplace object into a carrier of historical and personal narrative. The shadow and detail that suggest mass-production methods point towards particular industrial contexts of the period, connecting labor and art, in a way. Editor: A simple vessel transformed into a meditation on survival and labor through the artistic process. Its value lies not in grand narrative, but the slow reveal. Curator: I agree. It resonates not just as an object, but a document bearing witness.