Arrow 1966

Editor: Here we have Bernard Greenwald's 1966 etching, "Arrow." It's a flurry of geometric shapes rendered in shades of gray. The name "arrow" seems ironic considering how fragmented and unstable the whole composition appears. I’m interested in how you interpret this piece. What catches your eye? Curator: The etching certainly feels like a deconstruction. While "Arrow" is the title, consider the arrow not as a literal object but as a sign, pregnant with the concepts of directionality, purpose, and even aggression. In its fragmented state, do we lose all sense of those directives? Editor: I see what you mean! If the arrow as a symbol usually denotes action, breaking it down like this seems to suggest hesitation, or maybe even paralysis. Curator: Precisely. The overlapping shapes and textures, the balance of light and dark...these elements clash, creating tension. Think about the cultural climate of 1966. The Vietnam War was escalating; social norms were being challenged. Could this fractured arrow represent a society losing its way, questioning its own direction? What memories or longings do you see surfacing in the textures and fractured forms? Editor: I didn't think of it that way. The artist may be conveying some angst of that time by disrupting such a direct signifier. The rough, almost violent etching technique emphasizes this idea. Curator: Yes, the medium reinforces the message. Look closer—notice how certain forms are emphasized, obscured or repeated. Do these elements resonate with common cultural beliefs, fears, or hopes of that time period? Perhaps Greenwald is encouraging us to dismantle established ideas in search of deeper truth. Editor: Wow, I now see "Arrow" as much more than just an abstract composition. I appreciate how you helped connect it to cultural and historical undercurrents. Curator: And I appreciate your fresh perspective, noticing how the artist disrupts visual order. Together, we've unearthed fascinating layers of meaning within Greenwald's work.