Brussels Carpet Bag c. 1937

Curator: Before us we have “Brussels Carpet Bag”, dating back to around 1937, an intriguing work made by Jules Lefevere, deploying watercolor on what seems like a textile. Editor: The floral motifs against that sort of aged brown backdrop… it's strangely comforting, like peering into someone’s cherished attic finds. Curator: There are actually two distinct designs here, aren't there? The left one feels denser, with flowers bursting almost unrestrained, while the right feels more formally arranged, with a frame around the central rose. Editor: Absolutely. To me, those roses signal not just beauty, but also secrets, layered histories… you know, each petal holding a whispered story. I’m picking up the suggestion of controlled luxury, wouldn’t you agree? That formality you notice. Curator: Controlled indeed, given it’s destined for… well, a carpet bag. An everyday object. Was there something aspirational at play? A secret yearning in interwar Belgium for a touch of the grand? I find that quite delightful! Editor: Or maybe Lefevere understood the emotional weight an object carries. We’re talking about Brussels; textile design in the Benelux area always seems loaded, pregnant with the history of commerce, skilled craftspeople. Curator: True. It becomes a quiet revolution of aesthetics! Editor: I'm drawn back to how Lefevere utilizes that watercolour medium to mimic the texture of fabric. You almost forget it's just pigment and paper, not thread! It brings an intimacy to this piece, the artist practically breathing into the very fiber of the image. Curator: What a fascinating discussion! The symbols, the subversion, all tucked away in a potential design. Who knew such quiet dignity could be found in a humble carpet bag. Editor: It's a lesson, perhaps, that profound narratives often dwell in the mundane objects that populate our lives. Food for thought as we step forward!