Atlantis c. 1952

Josef Presser's etching, Atlantis, is a monochromatic work alive with jagged lines and shadowy forms. I imagine him hunched over the plate, each scratch and stroke a deliberate act of excavation, unearthing something hidden beneath the surface. The composition feels chaotic, like fragments of a dream or a memory struggling to cohere. There are forms that might be figures, objects, or architectural ruins— it’s hard to tell. Sympathizing with Presser, I imagine him lost in a labyrinth of his own making, searching for a way out. The dark lines feel urgent, as if he’s racing against time or some unseen force. Maybe that's the creative process. And yet, despite the chaos, there's a strange beauty to it all. It reminds me how artists build on one another's work, reaching back through time for inspiration, engaging in a visual conversation that spans generations. This feels like an ongoing exploration, a testament to the power of art to grapple with the unknown.