At the Cafeteria 1943

Editor: Dorrit Black's "At the Cafeteria," a woodcut print from 1943, depicts a scene of people buying and selling food, I imagine during wartime austerity. The black and white contrast feels very stark. What strikes you about this work? Curator: What strikes me? It feels… surprisingly upbeat for the era, doesn't it? You know, looking at the almost caricatured expressions, I can’t help but feel this slightly naughty gallows humour that permeated much of the public art of that time. It’s all so dramatically rendered through those heavy cuts, the inky blacks versus pure whites. But I'm interested: does that feel ‘stark’ to you, or do you sense that energy simmering beneath the surface too? Editor: I definitely see the energy you’re talking about, particularly in the faces, though I initially focused on the contrasting blocks of black and white which reminded me of woodcuts I studied during modernism. I hadn't thought of it as ‘humorous,’ but it certainly has an edge to it. Curator: Edge, yes! And those skewed perspectives. Are they about a gritty realism, or a sense of social unease bubbling underneath the surface of everyday life? Do you see those almost Cubist angles in the man's hat, that exaggerated grin? Perhaps it’s a bit of both: finding some joy amidst chaos. Editor: Now that you point it out, the tilted hat makes him look like he’s teetering on the brink of something. So much more is conveyed in that simple detail than I initially picked up on. Curator: Isn’t it marvellous? It’s as though the artist used simple lines to draw us into complex and nuanced human experiences. It's got me thinking about the cafes of my childhood, that similar atmosphere but a completely different aesthetic. I think I want some cake now... Editor: That’s a fantastic way to consider it - a moment frozen in time but still relevant today.