Doll c. 1936

Editor: So, this is Beverly Chichester's "Doll," made around 1936 using watercolor and charcoal. There’s something unsettling about it… almost like a medical illustration but of a, well, a very vintage doll. What jumps out at you? Curator: Unsettling is a good word for it. To me, it feels deeply personal, almost as if Chichester is dissecting her own childhood or even a part of herself. Do you see how precisely she renders the doll? The stitching of its body suit and even the subtle changes in tone suggesting different material textures? Editor: I do! It’s like she’s documenting it, but why? Was she perhaps a doll maker? Curator: Perhaps! We don’t have explicit evidence but Chichester lived through two world wars and that’s quite formative, isn't it? This precise realism feels like a yearning for order or maybe trying to pin down something intangible in a world that felt so chaotic. Does it not bring to mind something akin to a photograph - that tangible truth she wants to expose? Editor: It’s interesting how you bring up that idea of truth. Because at first, it struck me as detached and almost cold but maybe it is honest? The kind we are often too polite to convey? Curator: Exactly! Sometimes honesty requires a degree of separation, a critical distance. And who knows what this doll meant to her? Editor: True! I'm beginning to think it’s far more intimate than I initially thought. Almost voyeuristic. Curator: That clinical perspective really shines through the intimate honesty - it certainly elevates this study beyond that of a simple inanimate toy. Editor: I never would have seen all that on my own. Now it feels as if the drawing is questioning how we perceive beauty, reality, and perhaps even memory itself. Thanks!