Wood Spinning Wheel c. 1938

Curator: Isn’t it lovely? This delicate watercolor and colored pencil piece from around 1938 is Arthur Mathews' rendering of a “Wood Spinning Wheel.” It’s remarkable. What do you think? Editor: It feels very…grounded, but also a bit nostalgic, if that makes sense. There is a quietness about the color scheme with these earthy tones that evoke thoughts about labor and a more tactile way of life, but in a somewhat romantic way. Curator: Mathews certainly had a way of elevating everyday objects. He's giving us a quiet slice of Americana with it, presenting a simple, handmade contraption as an object worthy of admiration. What catches my eye is his careful observation of form. He has paid so much attention to the circularity inherent in the design, creating such dynamic tension by these hard edges with its soft and inviting browns. Editor: I completely agree. I'm seeing how that circular form acts almost like a focal point. You're pulled into this dance between shadow and highlight, aren’t you? It is cleverly framed, highlighting the relationship between the components and that feeling you get when considering something greater than the sum of its parts. Curator: Precisely! It's not just the realism in the portrayal, either. Look closely at those shadows - they are what really gives that depth and sense of presence! He isn't just documenting an object; he’s making us reflect on the craft, the maker, and the quiet, rhythmic hum of its operation. It's like hearing the echoes of stories spun along with the yarn. Editor: Definitely! What an object signifies often outweighs its aesthetic presentation. So what happens when you blend form and function through visual storytelling such as what is shown here? Are we considering not just spinning wheels themselves as utilitarian tools for yarn production, but a window into traditional folkways? Perhaps both converge, deepening our appreciation for the intersections of beauty, utility, and tradition? Curator: Precisely. It’s as if Mathews captured more than just the machine, but some quiet resonance between form and object and labor—transforming something quite ordinary into an echo of both past and present. Editor: Right! A celebration, you might say, not only of things, but the spirit of those who make them!