Houses in Jerusalem 1947

Curator: Let's consider Steinhardt's woodcut, "Houses in Jerusalem," from 1947. Editor: Yes! It's a cityscape, quite stark, done in monochrome, and the contrast is pretty intense. I see a rather large, looming building, and the textures are so raw and graphic, created through this printmaking process. What catches your eye when you view it? Curator: It’s precisely the rawness of the woodcut that fascinates me. Note how the artist physically carved away the wood matrix. The negative space left is just as crucial as what remains, isn't it? It implies a deliberate act of subtraction, reflecting, perhaps, on themes of loss and reconstruction, material destruction. Look closely. How might the socio-political context of post-war Jerusalem impacted Steinhardt's process and choices in mark-making? Editor: So, the act of cutting into the wood itself becomes part of the narrative. It is interesting to think of that process. It seems brutal. There are buildings depicted and then some other forms that are cut off on the bottom and maybe look like logs. How did the consumption of materials affect artists in that time and location? Curator: Think about scarcity, think about access. Wood may not have been plentiful or of high quality. Steinhardt’s acceptance of visible tool marks – those gouges and lines – they’re not trying to hide the labor, but embrace it. It forces us to acknowledge the human hand, the labor behind its production. What does that say about high art and labor? Editor: That idea challenges the preciousness we often ascribe to art. It makes the whole process visible. I never thought about art in terms of labor like this before. It feels...more real. Curator: Exactly. It bridges the gap between "high art" and the craft inherent in its creation. Editor: I like that I am reconsidering "high art" as it relates to class now. Thank you!