Hybrid 1968

Curator: Here we have Graham Sutherland’s print, "Hybrid," created in 1968. It employs linocut and ink, quite striking, don't you think? Editor: It hits me as strangely poignant. Like some forgotten god stranded on a modernist plinth. The bright orange halo makes it almost comical though. A tragicomedy, perhaps? Curator: Let's consider the process. Sutherland, celebrated for his post-romantic landscapes, transitions here to something more… fabricated. He’s moved away from simply observing nature to actively combining elements, layering image and material, linocut providing that unique textural depth. Editor: The creature itself—that composite skull… it's both grotesque and magnificent. As if unearthed from some alien dig site. And then those tiny, contemplative figures perched around its base—they’re like witnesses, forever pondering this bizarre monument. I get this sensation of ancient myths crashing into brutal modern realities. Curator: Consider the role of printmaking here. Its reproducibility brings art to a wider audience, a democratic impulse contrasting with the elite status traditionally afforded to monumental sculpture. Sutherland gives us an artifact both archaic and accessible. Editor: It feels as if the hybrid could be seen as humanity itself: patched together, supported by shaky structures of our own making. But that vibrant halo, it’s full of life! Perhaps even full of optimism… A suggestion of inherent power struggling toward some new, strange future? Or am I getting carried away? Curator: It’s interesting to consider that "Hybrid" might offer a commentary on the hybridity of post-war Britain itself; grappling with rebuilding, with reconciling tradition with modernity. The tension embedded in the physical processes mirror that very societal tension. Editor: So, ultimately a rather melancholy but deeply thoughtful hybrid, wouldn't you say? Curator: Indeed. A meditation on materiality, production and history.