The Cavern 1920

Editor: Joseph Pennell's "The Cavern," an etching from 1920. It's a striking cityscape…almost oppressive in its looming verticals. I feel a touch of claustrophobia looking at it. What leaps out at you? Curator: Ah, "The Cavern." Indeed. Pennell, that feisty etcher with a tongue sharper than his needle! For me, it's the sheer drama. It's less a portrait of New York and more a fever dream, isn’t it? Look how he manipulates light, turning architecture into something menacing, almost alive. Did you notice how the dark void cuts through the center, mimicking a canyon? Editor: Yes, that central shadow is intense! But what about the people below? They seem so small, almost swallowed by the city. Curator: Precisely! And isn’t that the point? Pennell wasn't just showing us buildings; he was showing us the dwarfing effect of modernity, the anonymity it imposes. Think of it: are they admiring the architecture or simply hurrying through the narrow corridor to the next thing? Editor: That makes sense. So, it’s less about architectural triumph and more about… existential angst? Curator: Exactly! Perhaps Pennell felt dwarfed himself? Or perhaps it’s simply the energy of that particular time, immediately after WWI: things have shifted but people still crowd city streets in the same fashion. It’s hard to be definitive about Pennell; every print felt intensely personal to him. A touch melodramatic? Absolutely, but never boring. Editor: I definitely see it differently now. I’d missed the critique in the overwhelming architecture. Curator: Isn't that the magic of art? It whispers, sometimes shouts, but always asks us to look closer, to feel more. Now I think of it: this also says something about *us* as we crane our necks up to see what Joseph Pennell says…!