Comb c. 1937

Curator: This is a watercolor and drawing entitled "Comb" by Tulita Westfall, dating circa 1937. Editor: Immediately, I see an object suspended in quiet space. Its rigid geometry at the base flares upward into these baroque flourishes. A strange juxtaposition, almost a dialogue between function and ostentation. Curator: Hair combs, of course, have existed in almost every culture since prehistory, made from bone, horn, ivory… this rendering points more toward status, the artifice of ornamentation, and a particular social sphere. Editor: Do you mean as emblems of ritual and belief? Because my instinct is toward pure aesthetics, especially that semi-circular corona around its head with the almost Byzantine studded border and elaborate stylized flowers. It has the graphic precision of a commercial print, too, not exactly realism. Curator: Perhaps less belief than belonging. Think about Art Deco’s obsession with luxury liners and machine-age streamlining intersecting with handcrafted indulgence; these hair ornaments in the 30s evoked that moment. It wasn’t just about holding hair in place. It signaled aspiration. These intricate, hand-drawn curlicues carry cultural memories of lavish balls and the carefully constructed performances of femininity. Editor: The color palette reinforces your points – a somber dark brown offset by these glints of bright, hopeful yellow... The artist isolates it, denying any true historical setting or context, thereby encouraging the beholder's projection onto the thing. What did such objects represent for the everyday lives of women? Curator: They were portable stages. Consider Westfall’s choices in depicting this object: the controlled precision of watercolor, that focus on line work. There’s something intensely intimate in the study of this singular item that gestures towards broader social conditions, yet, allows for the quiet dignity of daily adornment. Editor: Agreed. Thinking about these kinds of works as reflections of private routines offers me another perspective. Thank you. Curator: Indeed. It reminds us to seek beyond grand narratives.