Untitled 1945

Curator: What a thing, isn't it? Editor: It is...unexpected. It feels ancient, like a forgotten tablet, but then also meticulously modern in its ordered chaos. Curator: We’re looking at an untitled piece by Frederick Sommer from 1945. It's one of his "Arizona Landscapes," so right away, context shifts everything, doesn't it? Think about those ancient glyphs on stone out in the desert. Editor: Absolutely! The stark, grayscale tones definitely emphasize the rawness of the natural stone. I am drawn to the recurring pattern of what look like small, carved circles; it feels almost like an alphabet, but one from another dimension. The idea of the stone surface being actively intervened with fascinates me; there's so much history of symbols being physically made and their emotional and psychological persistence. Curator: It is that tension, that collision of the man-made and natural, that does it for me. The way the drilled marks, almost musical notes, interact with the jagged face of the rock is compelling. He took the literal weight of history and just… added to it. He was obsessed with this sort of layering, visually and philosophically. I've always imagined it was an act of artistic hubris, carving into time like that. Editor: Hubris perhaps, but a generative kind of hubris. Each circle could be a breath, a thought, or a tiny, potent act of marking time. A lot can change quickly when a set of beliefs starts making things happen. The fact that they exist together suggests an alchemical process. Curator: The simplicity is stunning, isn't it? No grand narrative, just... marks on a rock, presented for us to chew on, like pebbles in the mind. That's a mark of some kind of… something. Editor: Absolutely. It asks us to bring our own meaning, to complete the story. A very old story still continuing. Curator: He wasn't always appreciated, this desert sorcerer, was he? Thank goodness we can. Editor: Absolutely, I think we appreciate what is not so easily read and yet lingers.