Jersey Hills 1923

'Jersey Hills' by Pop Hart, whenever it was made, probably involved some kind of printmaking process, which I always admire for its indirectness. It's not just about slapping paint on a surface, but about creating a whole system, a kind of machine, to make an image. There's a real depth to this little scene, isn't there? I find myself drawn to the figure in the landscape, so small and quiet, cloaked and ghostly. You know, the texture here isn't smooth or blended; it’s got this lovely, almost scratchy quality. It’s like the artist wasn’t trying to hide the process, but instead letting the materials sing. The earth tones, and the way they play with light and shadow, evoke a moody and slightly melancholic feeling, like the memory of a place rather than a literal depiction. Hart's work, with its focus on everyday life and landscapes, sometimes reminds me of the Ashcan School, although he brings his own unique, slightly rougher edge to it. Art isn’t about fixed meanings, but a conversation across time, about how we see and feel the world.