Whiskey Glasses (Cobalt) c. 1937

Editor: Here we have Edward White's "Whiskey Glasses (Cobalt)," circa 1937, rendered in pencil, charcoal, and watercolour. It's… unexpectedly striking. I wasn't prepared to be so captivated by a seemingly simple image of two blue glasses. What do you see in this piece, from a formalist perspective? Curator: The beauty resides in its reduction. White focuses intensely on form, light, and colour. Notice how the verticality of the glasses contrasts with the implied horizontality of the surface they sit upon, creating a subtle tension. Consider the almost obsessive rendering of tonal variations within the blue; how that depth is achieved simply with pigment. Editor: Yes, now that you point it out, the subtle gradations of blue are almost mesmerizing. I hadn't fully appreciated how much work was put into rendering simple depth with so little material. Do you see anything significant in their placement on the page? Curator: Indeed. The duplication asks us to compare. They are nearly identical, yet distinct. Look at the almost imperceptible differences in the rendering of the light within each glass and how each cast shadows are shaped, they suggest slightly different positions, and thus a narrative is introduced by a method of comparison. Are we meant to see them full and empty? Identical twins reflecting separate moments? Editor: That's fascinating, I hadn’t considered the potential for narrative solely through minute variations in form. I came in expecting a simple still life. Curator: Form always dictates content. What you initially perceived as 'simple' in the art is the actual strength. It demonstrates that visual elements, reduced to their essence, convey powerful ideas without historical context. Editor: I see what you mean, my initial read missed how impactful this simple study of depth and shape could be. Curator: Exactly, that the structure of forms and shades builds our perspective of its deeper significance.