Nero 1944

Benton Spruance created this lithograph, Nero, using stone, grease, and acid to produce its shadowy tones. It's the kind of print that almost smells like rain on concrete. See how the textures are built up with these tiny, almost frantic, marks? There’s a palpable sense of grit and urban unease. The man hunched on the steps with a violin seems to be swallowed by the street's geometry, and then there's the shop front: all those glossy instruments for sale or repair. Look closer and see the almost oppressive contrast between the sharp lines of the architecture and the soft curves of the instruments. It feels like a metaphor for the struggle between art and life, or maybe just the hardscrabble existence of a musician trying to make a living. The way that Spruance has layered these textures reminds me a bit of Käthe Kollwitz, both artists seem to be interested in the lives of ordinary people. Ultimately, it's a moving exploration of the human condition.