Door Stop c. 1939

Editor: This is Richard Barnett’s “Door Stop,” a watercolor and drawing from around 1939. There’s something so comforting and uncomplicated about it. What captures your eye most in this work? Curator: Oh, isn't it delightful? I love how Barnett renders a very ordinary object—a humble doorstop—with such affection. The repetition of small, teardrop-shaped marks gives the sculpture, and consequently the drawing, a unique texture, almost like scales. The uniformity is captivating, but I keep wondering what the original object looks like. Did he simply find a peculiar sculpture, or did he imbue a common form with added significance? Editor: That’s interesting, I hadn’t considered that. What's your read on his choice to depict it in watercolor rather than, say, trying to mimic the texture with oil? Curator: Watercolor is immediate, transparent... almost a reverie on paper. Oil might give too much weight, too much... *presence*. Watercolor lends it that dreamy, slightly melancholic air. You almost expect it to dissolve if you touch it. And you know, thinking about the '30s, there's a quiet stoicism here, a finding of beauty in the everyday. It's touching, really. Don't you think? Editor: Absolutely, it’s charming. The details are incredibly engaging, the repetitive marks almost meditative. Curator: Yes! It’s as if he’s inviting us to pause, consider, appreciate the things we often overlook. I shall never look at a doorstop the same way again. Editor: Me neither! It's amazing how much thought can be contained within a simple image.