We went out of Mlawa 1914

Curator: Here we have "We went out of Mlawa," a 1914 drawing in ink on paper by Kazimir Malevich, a key figure in the Russian avant-garde. Editor: It looks like a child's storybook illustration, but with a slightly sinister undertone. Are those soldiers? Curator: Yes, they seem to be. Note the repetitive use of simple lines and shapes. The figures are rendered almost cartoonishly, but the overall composition—the way the riders and their lances pierce the sky—lends a sense of formality and purpose. Editor: It's like he's playing with the idea of heroism, then gently poking fun at it. I get this sense of impending doom, masked by a very quaint aesthetic, do you feel that? Curator: An interesting perspective. Formally speaking, I find the layering quite compelling. The riders in the foreground are distinct, while the ones in the background fade into a sort of abstracted, ghostlike procession. The interplay between figure and ground generates spatial tension and visual rhythm. Editor: Exactly, these faceless, identically dressed soldiers look like automatons. Makes one wonder if Malevich were commenting on the blind obedience required for war. Do you think this may also speak to Malevich's later movement towards Suprematism? Curator: Indeed, it prefigures his move toward abstraction, disrupting traditional representational hierarchies. What interests me is Malevich using elementary forms—spheres for heads, cylinders for bodies—anticipating his radical reduction to geometric elements later on. Editor: It’s deceptive, you know? So outwardly playful. But with war as the subject it feels ironic. It dares the viewer to consider the absurd cost of conflict, distilled down to these charming shapes. Curator: An insightful interpretation, truly. Editor: Well, it feels as if Malevich wants us to question what appears to be childish imagery. It speaks volumes. Curator: I would concur that this examination underscores the potent formalism at play and encourages nuanced consideration.