Child's Folding Chair c. 1938

Editor: So here we have Magnus Fossum’s *Child's Folding Chair* from around 1938, seemingly a watercolor and ink drawing. I find the subject matter really interesting. There’s almost a sadness in its stillness. What do you make of it? Curator: Stillness is an interesting choice of words. For me, there’s a contained energy, you know? Like a story paused mid-sentence. The everyday, rendered with this… loving detail. It makes you wonder about Fossum's intentions. Is it just a chair, or something more? Have you ever considered that it reminds us of what art critic John Berger argued about still life paintings, "they must invoke the absent"? What do you think it's suggesting is absent here? Editor: I suppose it invites you to wonder about who *isn't* sitting in the chair... to consider absent children or perhaps childhood itself? It makes you focus on the chair's potential – or lack of it. Like it's a chair in limbo. I’d not thought of that. Curator: Precisely. The carefully chosen viewpoint makes it seem so alone. I'm also intrigued by the color choices. The warm red against the stark background pulls you in. Does the isolation portrayed remind us that everything carries potential stories? Everything becomes an icon when lovingly portrayed? Editor: That makes me look at it in a whole new light, shifting it from simple observation to more… a symbolic level. It really adds another layer, beyond just seeing a small chair on a page. Curator: Art, you know, is often found in the unexpected. A humble object, lovingly portrayed, suddenly brimming with emotion, potential… and poignant absences. Editor: I love that, finding emotion and untold stories within everyday objects. It changes how you look at *everything.*