Paper Knife c. 1938

Curator: At first glance, there’s a kind of archaic elegance. I am taken back by the simplicity. The organic details remind me of a rural life. What’s your first reaction? Editor: This work by Max Fernekes, around 1938, titled "Paper Knife," presents, well, a paper knife! It appears to be rendered primarily in drawing and carving and feels rather domestic. My immediate reaction is of a subdued colonial aesthetic— a relic of power structures presented as a decorative object. Curator: Relic of power is definitely where my thoughts wandered as well. Do you believe the flora contributes to such implications? It looks innocent at first glance but its intention is undeniably present, and it may speak to more nefarious implications, almost predatory in nature. Editor: I see your point about the flora's duality. The delicate flowers and leaves carved onto the handle present a veneer of gentility and perhaps nature, contrasting with the function of the knife itself: to cut, to divide, to separate. I also see a phallic symbolism with its handle. So much for an "innocent" paper knife, right? Perhaps a commentary on the tools of division in society disguised as decorative objects, or even feminine symbols. Curator: Exactly. Its very existence is a kind of a commentary, isn't it? We also see this technique in, say, ceremonial daggers, or even something as mundane as ornate cutlery. A blending of utility and art designed to perhaps obscure its intended purpose or history through beauty. How is it weaponized through aesthetics? Editor: That's insightful. It could speak to the larger themes of class and privilege. A seemingly harmless, beautiful object serving as a reminder of who has the power to "cut" or control information, communication, and the social narrative. It’s not just a tool; it’s a symbol of status. Curator: Well, now I won’t look at paper knives the same way again! Editor: Exactly, now it serves its true purpose as an instrument of further enlightenment!