Crock c. 1953

John Tarantino's drawing of a crock, with its delicate pencil lines and restrained use of color, feels like a quiet observation, maybe even a meditation. I can imagine Tarantino, back in the day, carefully tracing the form of this utilitarian object, trying to capture its essence. Did he have one of these crocks in his home? Did he think about its past use? You can almost feel him thinking about the interplay between functionality and the object's design. The blueish gray areas around the handles and text give the image depth, contrasting with the starkness of the container itself. There is a kind of tension there that asks what the relation of an artwork is to an everyday thing. It reminds me of Morandi's still-life paintings, where simple bottles and vessels become profound studies of form and light. Tarantino's crock, like Morandi's bottles, invites us to slow down and appreciate the beauty in the everyday. It’s like he's saying, "Hey, even this simple object has a story to tell." And that’s how artists keep the conversation going, always finding new ways to see the world.