Toy Cupboard c. 1939

Curator: Here we have Richard Taylor’s "Toy Cupboard," a watercolor drawing from around 1939. Editor: My first thought is it's so precisely rendered! There's almost a melancholic formality about portraying something meant to contain the chaotic, joyous energy of toys. Curator: That's a perceptive observation. Taylor's background gives us insight. He contributed illustrations to *The New Yorker*, offering humorous, gently satirical views of middle-class life. He was also a professor of art. The clean lines, the slightly elevated perspective... it mirrors architectural renderings, even diagrams. Editor: Right. It’s not *in* anyone’s space. It *is* space—or at least, defines one. Looking at it now, the formality feels less melancholic and more… controlling. Think about what a toy cupboard signifies: social construction, prescribed gender roles— Curator: Are you suggesting that it becomes an instrument of cultural instruction? Editor: Precisely! Through toys placed inside, children are molded. Are there guns or dolls? Trucks or tea sets? Taylor presents a static container, inviting us to reflect on how those contents shape identities. Curator: Fascinating! Taylor's commercial work frequently poked fun at societal expectations. But here, devoid of context, we have this almost neutral vessel that allows such potent social interpretations. It brings a curious duality to this drawing, where the lighthearted meets critical thought. Editor: Absolutely. It's the mundanity, depicted so fastidiously, that is quite profound. Taylor asks, whether he intended it or not, "What are we teaching our children? And at what cost?” Curator: Food for thought, indeed. Editor: Indeed. A deceivingly simple depiction becomes surprisingly layered.