A Relic 

Curator: Frederick Remington gives us “A Relic,” a somber yet intriguing portrait, seemingly unfinished yet poignantly complete. What strikes you first about this character? Editor: Immediately, the missing leg – the stark material reality of a life perhaps reshaped by labor, conflict, or just plain hardship. The prosthesis speaks volumes about available technology and its limitations. Curator: Precisely! It's a drawing—look at the crosshatching, the deliberate choices in shadow and light—but it carries the weight of untold stories. There is a resilience about him; he's impeccably dressed even if his coat is torn, holding a cigarette. Editor: That cigar is an important element here, a commodity readily available yet seemingly at odds with his state. Who is consuming what, and at what cost? And let’s not ignore the support structure, that rudimentary wooden crutch fashioned from the barest resource; it is so minimal, almost brutal, in its function. Curator: Maybe that simplicity gives him a timelessness. Is he a Civil War vet, a hard-laborer injured on the job? Or something far more universal? His gentle smile hints at the quiet survival amidst hardship, almost hinting he may find joy where many see just tragedy. Editor: He presents himself as someone who embraces material culture, even enjoys it—that carefully chosen hat. Look at his footwear too; sandals offering freedom or constraint depending upon the situation and one’s means to access proper footwear. It poses significant questions regarding what we can interpret concerning his possible work or occupation Curator: He remains a glorious question mark. It's amazing Remington could make him come to life, not as a caricature but with so much presence in what seems such economical drawing. Editor: Indeed. In his hands and dress—all carefully chosen and arranged with such care by Remington. It's an incredible tension between how the realness is expressed, and the life that exists or has existed, separate of what we see.