Cochita 1972

Editor: We’re looking at “Cochita,” a 1972 print by Joyce Kozloff, awash in pastel hues. It feels very controlled and balanced, almost like a visual puzzle. What do you see in this piece? Curator: The geometric forms speak volumes. The composition may seem purely abstract at first glance, but look closer. These shapes, particularly the diagonal lines bisecting the image, mimic architectural plans. These angles, the colour choices, this is cultural memory rendered visible. Do you get that sense of looking *at* something versus looking *through* something? Editor: I can see that – like maybe looking at the blueprint for a building rather than the finished building itself. How does that play into its cultural weight? Curator: Consider that architectural blueprints often embody aspirations and idealized visions for society, how we might live together. The hard-edge abstraction and careful arrangement of forms symbolize a deliberate organization, like a constructed societal framework. Editor: So the colours aren't just pretty, they contribute to that? Curator: Exactly! The use of these gentle colours within rigid forms creates tension. Is it optimistic or a little unsettling? Do they hint at an attempt to soften potentially rigid social structures or mask inherent problems? Editor: It's both calming and a bit unsettling, like a perfectly organized garden where everything is just a little *too* perfect. I hadn't considered how much those geometric shapes could speak to larger social ideas. Curator: That tension is where Kozloff's power lies, isn't it? In taking these seemingly straightforward forms and colours and investing them with complex layers of meaning that force us to question what we assume.