Autumn 1957

Moishe Smith made this etching called "Autumn," and what grabs me is the all-overness of it, this network of lines that create a world. It's like Smith isn't just representing a landscape, but building one from scratch using these tiny marks. The trees aren't just standing there; they're practically vibrating with texture, like the artist is trying to capture not just how they look, but how they feel to the touch, or maybe even how they sound rustling in the wind. Look closely, and you'll see how the lines change direction and density to suggest light and shadow, depth and distance. It's almost like a coded message, a secret language that Smith is using to communicate something about the season, about memory, about the fleeting nature of time. Think about how artists like Van Gogh used mark making to render the world around them, or how Philip Guston built up layers of meaning through simple forms and lines. Smith is doing something similar here, inviting us to slow down, to look closely, and to find our own meaning in the marks.