Porcelain Vase c. 1936

Edith Magnette made this drawing of a porcelain vase, probably in the late 19th or early 20th century, using watercolor and graphite. It’s like a little stage set, the way she’s got the main vase up top and then these studies below, almost as if she’s trying to figure out how it all goes together. There’s this mix of delicacy and precision in her mark-making. The gold trim on the vase, for instance, isn’t just painted on; it’s built up with tiny, deliberate strokes, giving it this subtle, shimmering quality. And the roses – they’re not overly fussy, but they’ve got this soft, almost dreamlike quality. You can see her working through ideas, the way the graphite peeks through in places. The color palette is so restrained, mostly whites and golds, but then you get these pops of pink and red that just make it sing. It reminds me a bit of some of Morandi’s still lifes, where he’s just quietly exploring these everyday objects. Like him, Magnette isn't trying to knock your socks off with drama; she's inviting you into this quiet, intimate space of observation and reflection. It’s less about the vase itself and more about how we see and experience it.