Life in Camp, Part 2: The Girl He Left Behind 1864

Editor: This is Winslow Homer's "Life in Camp, Part 2: The Girl He Left Behind," created in 1864. It looks like it's made with colored pencil and is currently on display here at the Met. It's a very small drawing, almost like a calling card. I'm struck by how self-contained she seems, like she's built a little fortress around herself. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Fortress is a great word! Homer’s giving us a poignant glimpse into the emotional landscape of wartime America, but in such an intimate way. Her posture, her slightly downcast gaze – it's all about quiet resilience, don’t you think? Almost as if she’s the still eye of a hurricane. I also keep thinking about those enormous sleeves. Does that strike you as being very 'period', very stylish... and also slightly absurd, perhaps symbolic of a type of enforced domesticity? Editor: I do see what you mean; that contrast is interesting! It's like her external world is all ruffles and convention, but inside she's steely. Makes me wonder what’s actually in the book she’s holding. Curator: Ah, the great unwritten narrative! I like to think it's a collection of letters from him... each one she rereads hoping for clues, assurances. Or perhaps a novel, transporting her far from her immediate reality, offering solace, escape. Notice the little table and the stack of books next to her, as though she's educating herself in her solitude? She’s inhabiting the present while dreaming of a future not yet written. Homer captured so much with so few lines. It's like a haiku, a miniature world brimming with untold stories. What will *you* do with your life now you've met her? Editor: I’ll probably reread a few Civil War history books... thanks, that was fascinating. Curator: Same here, every time I think I have an artist pegged, they surprise me. Isn't it great?