Changing Horses 

Curator: Charles M. Russell's watercolor, titled "Changing Horses", greets us with such airy lightness. It’s a piece that, to me, captures a West that's both rugged and ethereal. Editor: It strikes me as something out of a dream, almost. That pervasive blue—is it a feeling as much as it is a color? It saturates the sky, hints at the water...it makes the scene both vast and intimate. Curator: Absolutely, I feel that emotional pull. And Russell was masterful at weaving narrative into these vast landscapes. He used watercolors, letting the medium itself add to the atmosphere of endless skies and sun-baked earth. The brushstrokes aren’t fussy, more impressionistic—blurring the edges just enough to engage our imagination. Editor: That central figure, the cowboy with his rifle…he feels almost weightless against the grandeur. Yet, it’s his presence, his vigilance, that focuses the drama of the entire composition. What stories of the West do those accoutrements evoke for us now? Curator: Exactly! That rifle symbolizes both protection and perhaps the looming encroachment on the wild. The horses being changed represent a shift, a constant motion emblematic of the West itself, perhaps a move toward more domestication? It's fascinating to read the details, like layers in a dream. Editor: Thinking of horses, of course, reminds me how powerful an archetype it has been for centuries and how closely its representation is linked to strength, freedom, nobility, even spirituality, especially when linked to the "Wild West". That relationship between man and animal says so much about the expansionist mythology of the Americas. Curator: It’s a potent cocktail of ideals, that's for sure. Makes me think, in the bigger picture, this work becomes less about accurate history and more about the evolving image of a culture on the move, its challenges, and its promises. Russell gave us so much to unpack beyond the surface of cowboys and open range! Editor: And just the colors…those muted blues and browns against the expanse—there’s a quiet melancholy there. Like looking at a legend fading into the horizon. Beautiful, isn’t it?