Top of Ball Mountain 1943

Editor: We're looking at Milton Avery’s “Top of Ball Mountain,” a pen and ink drawing from 1943, done *en plein air*. It feels immediate, almost like a visual diary entry. What strikes you when you see it? Curator: The immediacy, as you say, is crucial. But consider the context: 1943, amidst World War II. Avery, though seemingly detached in his landscape, is responding to the anxieties of his time. What does it mean to depict leisure, nature, a quiet moment, while the world is at war? Editor: So, is he offering an escape? Or perhaps making a more subtle statement? Curator: It's both, perhaps. Modernism often grappled with the tension between escapism and critique. Avery isn't making a grand political statement, but the act of choosing this subject, this style—simplified, almost childlike—is itself a quiet rebellion against the pervasive narratives of conflict. Consider how ideas around "leisure" or "nature" were culturally loaded then, just as they are now in the face of other societal pressures. Editor: I see what you mean. The figures, almost blending with the trees, could represent a yearning for simplicity, for a world untouched by the war. Curator: Precisely! And the pen and ink medium underscores this. It’s immediate, accessible. What stories might this drawing tell us about identity and the collective experience? Editor: It really does invite deeper reflection. I initially saw it as a simple landscape, but now it’s resonating with ideas of resistance and the quiet persistence of beauty amidst turmoil. Curator: It's a reminder that even seemingly simple acts of observation and creation can carry profound social and political weight, questioning dominant narratives and offering alternative visions of the world.