Untitled [reclining woman with crossed legs] [recto] 1955 - 1967

Editor: We’re looking at an ink and pencil drawing by Richard Diebenkorn, dating from around 1955 to 1967. It’s called “Untitled [reclining woman with crossed legs] [recto]”. It feels very raw, almost unfinished. What stands out to you when you look at it? Curator: The rapid lines immediately draw my attention. They carry so much information, don’t they? Consider how the subject – the reclining woman – evokes centuries of reclining figures in art, yet is rendered with a uniquely mid-century American bluntness. Do you notice the interplay between vulnerability and detachment? Editor: I see what you mean. There's a casualness, but also something quite formal in the pose and expression. How would you say this connects to its cultural context? Curator: Think about the post-war era. There was a desire to break from traditions, explore new freedoms of expression. This drawing embodies that push. The woman's gaze isn’t inviting; it’s almost confrontational. What visual symbols or gestures communicate the most to you? Editor: I'm struck by the hands, actually. They seem unfinished but so expressive. It is if they tell another story about this woman and her emotions, while her face looks so detached. Curator: Precisely. Gestures can carry a world of emotional weight. Are they restless or resigned, relaxed or wary? Consider how the ambiguity enhances the psychological impact. Editor: That’s really fascinating, especially the way those symbols both contrast with and complement each other to tell a more complete, yet mysterious, story. Curator: Yes, and this visual language evolves through time, informing new meanings. Understanding the underlying imagery helps us truly decode this piece and its time.