Clock c. 1938

Editor: So, here we have Nicholas Gorid’s “Clock,” likely from 1938, created with watercolor, pencil, and drawing. It’s just… striking to me how domestic and almost…whimsical it feels for what is, essentially, a symbol of rigid time keeping. What do you make of this interesting juxtaposition? Curator: That's a very astute observation! As a historian, I immediately think about the context of 1938. We’re on the cusp of World War II, and there’s a palpable anxiety about the future. Perhaps the artist is intentionally softening the harsh reality of time passing – its relentless march toward an uncertain future – by depicting it in such a gentle, almost nostalgic way? Do you see any other clues that hint at that softening? Editor: Well, the flowers around the clockface are definitely not your standard, serious timepiece adornment. And the somewhat muted colors, they feel very homey and less industrial. It’s a far cry from a stark, minimalist design you might expect from that era. Curator: Exactly! This piece actively resists the functional, sterile aesthetic that was gaining traction. Consider who might have been commissioning or buying art like this. Perhaps those who felt alienated by the burgeoning mechanization of life found solace in these softer, handmade representations of everyday objects. Were they looking to escape the march of modernity itself? Editor: That's a fascinating angle! So it's less about telling time and more about capturing a particular mood or yearning for something else entirely. Curator: Precisely. It makes you question the role of art itself, doesn't it? Is it to reflect the dominant culture or to offer a quiet space of resistance? This humble "Clock," with its delicate flowers and gentle colors, suggests it's doing the latter. Editor: I hadn’t thought about it that way! Now, I see a whole story hidden in what at first glance seemed like a simple clock drawing.