Over the Hills 1941

Curator: This striking landscape is Elmer Capshaw's "Over the Hills" from 1941, rendered in a woodcut print. The dramatic contrasts immediately grab my attention. Editor: It has a very strong graphic quality. Almost unsettling. The limited palette lends it an austerity, but also a certain...boldness. Curator: Yes, the stark black and white simplifies the land, elevating the scenery from realism to an almost iconic image. There’s an undeniable emotional power that transcends mere representation; the hills morph into symbols themselves. Editor: It’s a testament to the skill required to coax so much information—the texture, the suggestion of depth—from such limited material. Each mark carved into the wood tells a story of physical labor and decision-making. What kind of wood would be strong enough to achieve such bold cuts, yet soft enough to carve such fine detail? Curator: Consider the visual language it uses: that band of black pressing down from the top… the undulating patterns that are a caricature of fields—the artist simplifies everything down to evocative essence. In other cultures, certain graphic signs for landscape or sky carry mythic import and invoke something beyond the picture itself. Editor: It almost looks like fabric. Printed textile patterns were certainly influential on modernist printmakers at the time, and considering the broader economic conditions and material scarcity in 1941, perhaps using the language of textiles—of homespun comfort—spoke to something very primal in viewers at the time. Curator: It really transcends period details, doesn’t it? Despite being rooted in that particular moment, "Over the Hills" feels timeless. I appreciate its elemental presentation—so much is said with so little. Editor: It makes you think about the resources at hand, both physically and conceptually, and the ingenuity born from limitation. The impact is still powerful after all these years.