Apothecary's Pill Coater 1941

Curator: Looking at Herman O. Stroh’s 1941 piece, “Apothecary’s Pill Coater,” what strikes me most is its almost aggressive mundanity. The labor involved in creating such a tool is quite something. Editor: You know, seeing those meticulously rendered thorns sticking out... it’s unexpectedly unnerving. Like something beautiful gone slightly wrong, or a sea urchin’s darker cousin. Curator: Indeed. Each spike probably painstakingly placed for efficient coating. I am also compelled to think of its manufacture within a historical context. What was happening in production in 1941? How does mass manufacture relate to the item depicted here? Editor: I hadn't thought of that. It does force me to think, if not of wartime economies, perhaps the pre-digital age, where things were just MADE with so much attention, by so few and handled by many. Each spike and dot of color has the hand so very, very near. What was the materiality of it then? Is watercolor even sufficient? I feel it craves some raw material, too. Curator: The artist utilized watercolor, pencil sketch, even possibly oil pastel according to the analysis. It really speaks to experimentation to accomplish his work. Editor: Definitely. You see this delicate rendering, this care given to what feels almost brutal, almost medieval and repurposed into the healing. Curator: And notice too how the toned paper choice underpins and lends character to the sketch overall. A calculated move highlighting process through visible, chosen media. Editor: There's this incredible tenderness within the precision... almost feels alive, breathing. Perhaps this strange healing power remains potent through the hand itself. Curator: It does. It’s precisely in that intersection of creation, care and handling that the piece resonates. Editor: So true. All this from one simple spiked device—amazing.