Paperweight c. 1848 - 1855

Editor: Right now, we’re looking at "Paperweight," a glass and paper piece by Baccarat Glassworks, created sometime between 1848 and 1855. It's on display at The Art Institute of Chicago. The weight itself gives off such a delicate vibe, yet there’s something weighty, something substantive about preserving this one, simple flower. What do you see in it? Curator: Ah, yes, "Paperweight!" Looking at it always sends my mind tumbling down memory lane. It's like peeking into a snow globe filled not with snow, but with bottled memories of quiet industry. What was being pinned under paperweights at the time? Bills to the drapers, maybe love letters from a distant cousin? And encased in glass! As though this singular flower has a story worth safeguarding. Have you noticed how the transparency of the glass distorts our perspective? Editor: I have! It almost makes it feel alive. Do you think the flower is any kind of specific symbol? Curator: Perhaps the flower embodies hope amidst the day's work, like a fragile dream refusing to be crushed by everyday tedium? Or it just a pretty bauble! Editor: I hadn't thought about the practical function, like a tiny act of defiance! Curator: Precisely! Maybe its creators were simply indulging in beauty to alleviate the rigors of daily labor, which is a theory I'd prefer, if you are asking me. It hints at the lovely, and quite radical idea that a creative urge resides somewhere, locked-up, perhaps, in us all. What do you make of it now? Editor: That's a perspective shift; thank you!