Swinging Fan c. 1937

Al Curry made this drawing of a swinging fan, sometime before he died in 1995. I love the idea of Curry, born in the 19th century, still making work so close to our own time. It's so delicate, a real feat of observation and patience. Look at the way the light falls on the wooden frame, how the ochre strokes follow its form, and then burst out, feather-like, as the fan itself. It's like he’s captured a moment of stillness in something designed to move. There’s something hypnotic in the repetition of those marks. The way they flicker, suggesting movement and rhythm. It reminds me of Agnes Martin, in that Curry is interested in the magic of the everyday, and how a simple structure can generate endless variation. In both artists, the looseness, or the imperfections of the hand, bring the piece alive. I'm left thinking about the simple pleasures, the unseen energies that surround us, captured in a deceptively simple image.