Construction #7 c. 1950 - 1952

Editor: So, here we have Paul Feldhaus's "Construction #7," a woodcut print created sometime between 1950 and 1952. I'm struck by the sharp contrast between the black and white. It's a real visual puzzle. What do you see in it? Curator: You know, it hits me like jazz. All these angular shapes—triangles and fractured lines—they feel improvisational, almost chaotic, yet the whole thing hums with a certain balance, a restless energy contained, perhaps like post-war optimism struggling with lingering anxieties? Or is it more of an architectural deconstruction? A blueprint gone wild? Editor: I hadn’t thought of architecture. It's interesting how abstract forms can suggest something concrete, or even emotional. Is there a particular style at play? Curator: Definitely whispers of Abstract Expressionism in its raw emotion and focus on form, but with the added graphic punch of a woodcut. Feldhaus has reduced the world to its essence—lines, shapes, and the dramatic interplay of light and shadow, hasn't he? What is it doing *to* you, really? Editor: It feels a bit unstable. The lines are so dynamic; my eye doesn't quite know where to land. Is that intentional, you think? Curator: Perhaps he’s reflecting a world in flux. You see how those stark contrasts pull at your focus? A bit unsettling, no? Art doesn’t always have to soothe, darling. Sometimes it throws us off balance so we might just find a new footing. Editor: True. It’s much more dynamic than I first gave it credit for. Now, when I look at this piece, I don't just see shapes; I feel the push and pull of forces. Curator: Precisely! And that push and pull—that's where the magic happens. It’s like he’s inviting us to build our own meaning within his construction, literally and figuratively. What a wonderful workout for the eye and the imagination!