Moses on the Mount c. 1930

Curator: We are looking at Marc Chagall's "Moses on the Mount," a drawing from around 1930. Editor: It's wonderfully raw. The hurried lines! He's perched up there like a doodle on a napkin, with a slightly grumpy demeanor, holding those tablets as if they're a bit too heavy. Curator: Indeed, the sketch-like quality offers such immediacy. We can almost see Chagall’s hand moving across the paper. And what paper! Note the texture, the way it reveals its own history—the subtle graininess speaks to the tangible means through which we understand narrative and value within this medium. Editor: Right, you almost forget about Sinai! It is reduced to a curvaceous outline with Moses at the very peak, a testament to its towering scale or an echo of the weight of his task? Below, those tiny clustered figures represent, perhaps, his people looking up. But there is no detail—they are simply part of the raw material. Curator: It speaks volumes about Chagall's modernist approach—symbolism pared down to its most essential elements. What appears at first glance to be a simple pen sketch explodes with emotional weight. And Chagall was deeply interested in Biblical stories and incorporating these symbolic moments of reverence throughout his work. Editor: How can we divorce the story, though, from the labor it took to create this thing? Ink and paper – everyday materials elevated by vision. The availability and affordability of these materials are part of the picture for me, underscoring the accessibility of art making at the time. And that informs who gets to tell these important stories. Curator: Fair enough! Ultimately, what stays with me is how Chagall can distill the awe-inspiring moment on Sinai down to such an intimate, almost comical depiction of human frailty in the face of the divine. Editor: Agreed. There is a beautiful humbleness, a reduction to the essence, in seeing these stories mediated through ink and paper; so common and available, yet made powerfully evocative.