Zoar Invalid Wagon c. 1937

Fritz Boehmer made this drawing of a Zoar Invalid Wagon, a kind of carriage for people with disabilities, sometime in the early 20th century. The level of detail suggests that Boehmer wasn't just sketching; he was really looking, trying to figure out how it all fits together. The watercolor is thin and precise, almost like an architectural rendering. The lines are delicate but firm, giving the wagon a sense of weight and presence. Look at the way the red of the seat contrasts with the off-white paper. It's not just color; it’s about how the material sits on the surface, how it interacts with the light. The wheels feel solid, like they could actually roll, while the criss-cross lattice on the side feels decorative, but fragile. It makes me think about function versus form, about how even utilitarian objects can have a kind of beauty. I am reminded of Charles Sheeler's paintings of factories, with their hard-edged realism and industrial subject matter. Like Sheeler, Boehmer finds a kind of poetry in the everyday, inviting us to see the world with fresh eyes. It's this embrace of ambiguity that makes art so endlessly fascinating.