Bridge Cables II c. 1940

Curator: Here we have Jolán Gross-Bettelheim's "Bridge Cables II," created around 1940, a striking pencil drawing that delves into the geometric beauty of urban infrastructure. Editor: Whoa. It’s got this looming, almost oppressive feel to it. Like being swallowed up by the cold, hard skeleton of the city. Curator: Indeed. Given the historical context, produced on the cusp of World War II, we might read the image as reflecting a growing anxiety surrounding industrial power and its potential for both creation and destruction. Bridges connect, but they also represent points of control. Editor: I see what you mean. But I’m also just drawn to how intensely the artist rendered all these textures with pencil. There is this stark contrast with the solidity of the architectural forms, which feels super satisfying somehow. Curator: Absolutely. Bettelheim’s precise draftsmanship captures the material reality, and arguably speaks to Modernism's faith in progress. It highlights themes of social connection, technology, and a faith in systems—all key ideological tenants of the period. Yet, even those ideologies contain implicit structures of power and inequality that are important to consider when we explore her art. Editor: Makes sense. It's like she’s revealing a secret language hidden inside girders and cables. I feel a sudden, almost urgent need to translate the mechanical to an expression. Maybe poetry…or maybe sculpture...something tactile. It makes me feel strangely awake and alone. Curator: That sensation, perhaps, arises from Bettelheim's composition itself: we see no people here, we are within and yet also separated from the city's flow. It becomes almost a monument to solitude within the communal enterprise of city life. Editor: Okay, yeah, I definitely feel that now. Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind as I consider it a bit longer. I think there are some emotional resonances here that I wasn't catching right away.