Parasol c. 1939

Curator: Immediately I’m struck by the quaint stillness, a certain fragile melancholy. Editor: Indeed. We’re looking at Marie Famularo's "Parasol," dating from around 1939. It's rendered with pencil and watercolor. Curator: The geometric precision of the plaid pattern atop the loose, washy watercolor seems almost discordant. It's a strangely compelling juxtaposition. What’s its history? Editor: Famularo, while not as widely recognized, participated in Federal Art Project, offering valuable opportunities during the Depression. Curator: Ah, that explains the stark, almost utilitarian simplicity! Though utilitarian isn’t quite right – there's something undeniably elegant in the curve of the parasol itself and the delicate scallops around the edge. The artist pays such careful attention to detail! Editor: Right. The public face of art had a clear role. But let's look more closely. Is there a tension between decoration and practical function here? Does it comment on access to resources in that moment of the country’s history? It almost appears like a child’s rendering, lacking depth. Curator: Perhaps, but the colors also hint at that time, that melancholy moment you mention—earthy browns, muted gold, against that stark white backdrop… almost a visual sigh. I’d argue, its flatness pushes its symbolism more forward. The very idea of shelter in the midst of societal turbulence? Editor: Well said. The artist’s style also is important to note; there are obvious notes of amateur skill meeting institutional style in its production. So interesting that she included her signature, so understated near the bottom right corner, but so significant to identifying her work. Curator: Right! A touch of quiet rebellion, perhaps. In the end, it prompts a question, What does she value most, her talent, or her perspective? Editor: Food for thought as we go onward! This close look has opened to interpretation in exciting new ways, wouldn’t you agree?