Jug c. 1937

Charles Garjian made this unassuming Jug, in tones of brown, with what looks like watercolor on paper. I wonder what it was like to make this - was he studying the object closely in front of him, squinting with one eye, or was he making it up from memory? The painting is so quiet. I see how he slowly built up the color with layers of tiny strokes and delicate washes, especially around the belly of the Jug. You can see the gentle curve of the handle, how it swells out and then tapers back in. It's like a body, or a breath, swelling and contracting. Then there’s that little tag floating to the right of the jug with a wonky star on it. What’s that about? I imagine Garjian's studio, the light falling softly on his table as he worked away. It's funny how these humble, everyday objects can be so resonant when someone takes the time to really see them, to capture them in paint. In a way, this jug feels connected to a whole lineage of paintings, going all the way back to still lifes of Morandi. I think that art is about having conversations across time.