Gun-Testing 1916

Curator: This work practically vibrates with the din of industry. What strikes you first about it? Editor: It's overwhelmingly grim, wouldn't you say? The scratchy lines, the hulking forms… it all screams impending doom. Curator: You're not wrong. This is Joseph Pennell's "Gun-Testing," created in 1916. It’s a drawing and print—an engraving, really—rendered in ink, showcasing the intensity of wartime production. Notice how he uses the city as a backdrop. Editor: Ah, that urban skyscape only amplifies the bleakness. The gun, the tracks... those vertical lines feel imprisoning. A war machine devouring space, devouring the future. Is he aligned with Marinetti and his Futurist pals? Curator: He does capture that fascination with machinery, yet diverges into something more somber. Pennell's industrial scenes are often celebratory, yet "Gun-Testing" resonates with ambivalence, revealing war's terrible cost. I think that is modern. The industrial-war complex isn’t portrayed as heroic. Editor: Definitely. Note the scale; the cannon looms large over tiny workers, practically daring any David to challenge this Goliath. Its texture… oily, rough, cold. It lacks dynamism. Curator: And it’s not simply about depiction. The pen lines are alive; his textures and detail are incredibly meticulous. It seems he is making an effort to use everything. This allows us to focus and inspect different elements of the design. It makes us aware. Editor: Making us aware, precisely. Is the work trying to engage with a sense of duty? Perhaps. What’s important is this dense space… It makes it that much more impactful. Curator: Yes! I mean, it makes the entire artwork thrum, with anticipation of the inevitable impact this weapon will cause. I leave this with you, but I cannot remove this sense that maybe art like this should not exist, but only to be made so there are more art like that of the Dadaists. Editor: I couldn't agree more. In its visual language alone, “Gun-Testing” delivers a harrowing narrative, doesn’t it?