Child's Side Saddle c. 1940

Editor: This is "Child's Side Saddle," made around 1940 by Rose Campbell-Gerke, using watercolor and colored pencil. There's something really quaint and… almost wistful about it. What stands out to you when you look at this? Curator: Wistful is a great word for it. I see a piece brimming with imagined adventures. The meticulous detail in the stitching, the fanciful floral patterns—it's all so carefully rendered, it makes me wonder what dreams were sewn into it. Were ponies part of their imagined adventures? Does that specific shade of faded green evoke nostalgia for you? Editor: Absolutely, especially the shade. I can almost feel the slightly worn texture of the saddle itself, the gentle curves designed for a small rider. It feels so tactile, even in two dimensions. Do you think the artist was trying to capture a specific feeling or memory? Curator: I imagine it was less about pinpointing one memory and more about preserving a fleeting sensation—the lightness, the potential. Maybe they felt joy sketching out the ornate flowers bordering the saddle or thinking back to their childhood or the childhood they wanted. Is the very notion of that saddle about safety? Editor: That’s a fantastic question. I guess it hints at both freedom and control. What are your thoughts on its symbolism of both concepts? Curator: What you point out makes perfect sense. A child’s first experience of "high-up-ness"! That little side-saddle is surely about as intimate a belonging as you can get and then imagine flying free with it. But now, tell me about how it is perceived by the viewers of our modern day. Does it resonate? Does it bring something unexpected or new? Editor: Well, I definitely came away thinking about how even seemingly simple objects can hold such a wealth of imagination. I never expected a child's saddle to feel so… emotional, almost? Curator: Exactly. Isn’t that wonderful, the magic of finding such depths where you least expect it?