Unicorn c. 1937

Curator: This is Alice Stearns's "Unicorn," a drawing rendered around 1937, primarily using pencil and charcoal. What springs to mind for you? Editor: There's a melancholy in it, even with the dramatic pose. It's a trapped unicorn, really, not prancing free in some enchanted forest, which feels rather subversive. Curator: Subversive how? Unicorns have a complex lineage, often linked to purity and grace, but also power. Here, constrained by chains, that power feels... misdirected? The adjacent scroll element seems to mirror the pose while simultaneously mocking the imprisonment through uninhibited flowing form. Editor: Exactly. And that rendering… it's incredibly detailed but almost lifeless, like a carving of a unicorn rather than a living creature. The meticulous realism only accentuates the lack of… magic, I guess? It's as if the unicorn has been turned into a trophy, studied, and possessed. Curator: Notice also that the texture, especially around the chain and the muscular definition of the animal, presents an element of tactile vulnerability, highlighting themes of control and exploitation within established mythic contexts. Even the realism you mentioned serves to ground that narrative. Editor: The details give a sculptural effect as though it were chiseled, which makes it less believable as an entity in time. So maybe the magic lies in Stearns's ability to take this beacon of untamed myth and drag it into a world of industry and mass production. And the monochrome color choice feels so heavy... a physical embodiment of suppressed freedom. Curator: Perhaps. Considering that this piece comes from the late 1930s, a time of immense social and political upheaval, one might even suggest that the unicorn embodies something far larger, a captured ideal wrestling against the constraints of impending global conflict. Editor: Wow. A tiny little poignant time capsule—not so monochrome now. Curator: Indeed. Symbols seldom reside on the surface. Stearns seems to have seized on that age-old truism, gifting us this thought-provoking, deceptively subtle commentary on captivity. Editor: Yeah, I might think twice now before buying the sparkly unicorn on a mug. A real mind-opener, actually.