The Baths of Caracalla 1961

Curator: Anton Lehmden’s etching, “The Baths of Caracalla,” created in 1961. The delicate line work offers us a rather melancholic perspective. What is your initial take? Editor: Desolate. Very desolate. I see towering structures rendered almost weightless through this meticulous etching technique. The monumentality feels simultaneously present and absent. It gives off a very stark impression, somehow. Curator: Precisely. Lehmden's process, the etching, feels intrinsic to the ruinous subject matter. Consider the network of lines forming the ancient architecture. They’re so fragile. And notice how they seem to disintegrate toward the top of the composition, giving that feeling of a slow return to dust. Editor: The formal restraint is interesting. The composition uses a clear geometric framework and the neutral tonality emphasizes line and form over emotion, despite your seeing melancholy. However, nature reclaims the space in the foreground— the dense, almost chaotic undergrowth disrupting any rigid reading of civilization. It almost reads like semiotics in the making. Curator: The reclaiming feels almost romantic, doesn’t it? I see the Baths as a ghost of collective memory, juxtaposed against the organic will to survive. Lehmden lived through considerable trauma and his architectural landscapes have this distinct thematic undertone. It almost touches on collective trauma. Editor: Interesting point, trauma as the absent referent. That is likely how Lehmden feels the landscape, yes. But by employing a strict architectural approach to composition with a consistent formal and technical process, Lehmden may very well be detaching to better render the subject. Curator: And detaching might also mean preserving… It is like holding something very fragile and wanting it to be there in the same way forever. This piece certainly lingers in my mind. Editor: Yes, indeed. A poignant observation and an apt metaphor.