Astatic 1944

Editor: Here we have Josef Albers’ “Astatic” from 1944, a woodblock print on paper. I'm immediately struck by how dynamic the geometric shapes feel against the, almost grounding, wood grain background. How do you interpret this contrast? Curator: That tension is precisely where the magic lives, isn’t it? I imagine Albers, pen in hand, pondering the static, the unchanging, only to realize the absurdity of it all. Nothing truly stands still, does it? The wood grain feels almost like a photograph of soundwaves rippling, while these origami-like figures seem to be constantly on the verge of either collapsing, or perhaps ascending? Editor: Ascending – that's a fascinating way to put it! I was so focused on the tension I didn't really see the potential for movement. Curator: Think of it as a visual dance between order and chaos, planned out through the rigidity of shape with the organic woodgrain underneath it. It feels, to me anyway, as if he’s attempting to reconcile those extremes. Is this something he succeeds in, or is he simply portraying its incompatibility? What are your thoughts? Editor: Well, if it were entirely incompatible, wouldn't the contrast feel jarring? I actually find it kind of harmonious; there's almost a vibration between them. Like they're both necessary to perceive the work as a whole. Curator: Beautifully put! Perhaps it's about acceptance rather than reconciliation then – understanding that stability and change, form and formlessness, are intrinsically linked, always pushing, always pulling. It is certainly hard to imagine them without the other in this piece. I must say, the closer I look, the more possibilities appear... Editor: Absolutely, it gives you plenty to consider, I’m excited to explore it further!