Strasburg 1873

Editor: We're looking at "Strasburg," a sketchbook cover by Charles George Lewis from 1873, now at The Art Institute of Chicago. The cover's a blend of materials—graphite, colored pencil, regular pencil, maybe even a print? It has such a worn, personal feel; I imagine Lewis carried it everywhere. What strikes you most about this seemingly simple object? Curator: That’s a great intuition about it being carried everywhere – it *feels* like it, doesn't it? To me, it whispers of journeys, of snatched moments captured between places. Look closely – there’s the hasty inscription noting a journey "Sep 22/1873 Strasburg to...Oct 7/73". It isn’t just a sketchbook; it’s almost a little time capsule, a portal to a very specific trip, right? Imagine the colors of that autumn landscape reflected in those pencil sketches within! What do you think he was hoping to record in that span? Editor: I wonder if the cover itself became a canvas—a place to test colors or compositions before committing to the inner pages. It seems less precious, more utilitarian. Maybe he wasn't trying to create *art*, just preserve a memory? Curator: Precisely! That's the beautiful thing about sketchbooks – they are both intimately personal *and* a vital step to art. It begs the question, doesn’t it? At what point does practice become creation? Perhaps those colors he tested were the foundation for grander works? Lewis gives us such a raw glimpse of process. It makes me think about what we discard and what we elevate... What is art anyway, right? Editor: So, this cover isn't just protective, but actively part of his artistic exploration... I hadn't considered that before. It's transformed how I see these 'lesser' works now. Curator: Exactly! I’ll wager that that question – practice versus performance – stays with you a good, long while, if you let it. Now go find those colors of Strasburg, whatever that means *to you.*