Bandbox c. 1939

Joseph Rothenberg painted this image of a bandbox using watercolor and graphite. It’s a symphony of blues and tans, forming patterns that are both folksy and formal. I can imagine Rothenberg hunched over this piece, meticulously layering each floral motif, his breath held in concentration. What was he thinking as he painted each little flower? Did he feel a kinship with the maker of the original box, a silent dialogue across time and craft? Look at the way the blue bleeds softly into the tan. It’s not perfect, and that's the beauty of it. There’s a looseness here, a human touch that elevates it beyond mere representation. The patterns feel both delicate and robust, like a well-loved quilt. The texture of the paper supports the pigments, creating subtle variations and giving the colors depth and richness. Artists are always in conversation, riffing on the themes and ideas of those who came before. Rothenberg's bandbox reminds us that art is not just about the final product, but about the process, the exchange, and the shared human experience of making and seeing.