Lantern c. 1937

Editor: This is Mildred Ford’s "Lantern," created around 1937, a drawing rendered in pencil. There's a certain stillness to it, a quietude I find quite compelling. What initially captures your attention about this piece? Curator: Funny you say that! For me, it’s the geometric play. The precise lines of the lantern juxtaposed with the potential for flickering light makes me wonder, doesn’t it you, about the secrets it illuminated. Imagine what it would see if it lit our path through a darkened wood. Editor: It does! But how might Ford's personal touch manifest in this seemingly technical study? Curator: Perhaps in the very act of choosing such a simple, domestic object to elevate to art, don't you think? I see a silent appreciation for craftsmanship, maybe even a gentle nostalgia for simpler times, a kind of yearning for what gives light—literally and figuratively. Editor: It’s almost meditative. The dedication to the single object. What would you call this quality? Curator: Serenity perhaps. We make assumptions that a portrait or landscape can portray the intimate inner self but maybe, just maybe, so can an old lantern if you care to imbue the commonplace with deeper meaning. Ford encourages us to be mindful of how, when we create, we can channel ourselves to shine our light through something else. Editor: It reframes how I think about still-life! The artistic choices we make reveal as much as subject matter. Curator: Exactly. Ford reminds us that observation, imbued with intention, allows the simplest things to tell us the most meaningful stories.