Bandello 1947

Curator: Imre Reiner created this work, titled "Bandello," in 1947. It's a print, an ink drawing of sorts... the texture and the line work have an unusual energy. Editor: I get a shiver, like looking at a character from a particularly grim fairy tale. Something playful, maybe even whimsical, lurking beneath the surface...but still, undeniably dark. What is it about the way those ink lines slash across the page? Curator: It’s all deliberate. Consider the stark contrast, the way the light barely touches the figure, accentuating the wildness of the strokes. Reiner is working in a post-war period, 1947. He survived imprisonment, lived in exile, and changed citizenship multiple times. What emotions do these visual cues stir when connected with historical context? Editor: Right, right. Suddenly, it's not so whimsical. The figure—who is this Bandello anyway?–looks burdened, almost defiant, carrying… what is that disc? Curator: Bandello refers to Matteo Bandello, the 16th-century Italian writer of novellas. This specific piece seems to be playing with his notion of character— perhaps examining a fragmented personality laid bare by circumstance. The “disc” reads as some strange shield, laden with floral embellishments, each one feeling like an experience seared in the mind. Editor: You’re right, a shield! That explains the sense of vulnerability mixed with resilience I felt at first glance. But the raw quality, that expressive intensity...it speaks to the artistic impulse, that burning need to say, "I was here; I felt this.” It reminds us, too, that art isn't always about beauty, but about truth, however difficult. Curator: Truth indeed. The visual rawness challenges, almost dares, us to find meaning, perhaps even hope, in its complexity. Reiner manages to distill complex emotions into simple forms. A testament to art’s enduring power. Editor: Well said. Even these slashing ink marks become unexpectedly...transcendent. An uncomfortable, haunting kind of beauty.