Flatiron c. 1942

Curator: Well, isn’t that something. Looks like we have here an old flatiron. Almost makes me feel like ironing. Editor: Ironing? Looking at this, I feel anything but eager to do chores. There’s something so melancholy, so weighted about it. Is this one of Roehl’s works? Curator: Yes, it is. This drawing, “Flatiron,” believed to be from around 1942, comes to us via George Roehl. Executed with watercolor, it’s deceptively simple in its realism. Note how Roehl captures the tool’s weightiness, the tarnished metallic surfaces, and the worn handle—evidence of frequent use. Editor: Deceptively simple is right. You know, the way he handles light... it’s less about capturing reality and more about breathing life into an object usually ignored. I see a little ghost of someone working, pressing fabric until it’s tamed. This makes something mundane magnificent. What else can we unpack? Curator: Observe the composition. Roehl centers the flatiron, emphasizing its geometric forms—the triangle of the base, the parallel lines of the handle. This arrangement, against the neutral background, invites us to examine its construction, its utility, divorced from its context. Editor: Utility…right. Though honestly, when I stare at this flatiron, I consider how domestic life has been streamlined. We don't pause to think of labor of our grandmothers, for instance, even when it lingers near the surface like here in "Flatiron." It almost feels…rebellious to admire an obsolete piece. Curator: An insightful observation, I think. And one worth considering within the frame of Roehl's realist approach. By isolating this object, it feels like he’s elevating the ordinary to an object of contemplation. Editor: Which, I think, makes you wonder about so many invisible domestic efforts. Like bread-making! Maybe he could have captured that too... Oh well. He brought a somber gravity here to the simplest item, I'll say. Curator: I would have to agree.