Lithograph #2 1934

William Judson Dickerson made this lithograph on an unknown date. It’s a monochromatic scene, a symphony in grays achieved through the process of lithography, which, to me, is all about embracing the unpredictable dance between intention and accident. The texture is intriguing, created through a layering of marks. Look at the sky, where the strokes are almost scribbled, chaotic yet controlled, giving the impression of a looming storm. Then, see how the railroad tracks converge into the distance, their lines so clean. The way Dickerson balances this mechanical precision with the more gestural elements is just fascinating, creating a tension between the man-made and the natural. Notice how the trees are reduced to mere scratches, barely there but essential. This reminds me a little of Charles Burchfield, who used watercolor to express the quiet melancholy of everyday American life. Like Burchfield, Dickerson seems to find beauty in the overlooked, in the spaces where industry and nature collide. It’s not about answers, it’s about the questions the image provokes in us.