Weighing Scale c. 1938

Curator: At first glance, there’s a sort of gentle melancholy to it. All these tarnished bronzes and warm sepias against the plain background... like a forgotten dream. Editor: We're looking at Richard Taylor's "Weighing Scale", likely created around 1938. It’s rendered in watercolor and pencil on paper. And what initially reads as melancholy to you, I immediately recognize as rust. Curator: Rust as a feeling! Precisely. And as we consider that it's a scale, designed to measure and weigh, I can’t help but wonder about what is being measured. Editor: Right. So the interesting thing is the rendering; watercolor and pencil, chosen to portray what must have been an object made of iron or bronze. Curator: I notice you've placed importance on the artistic interpretation, whereas I'm finding myself drawn more into the conceptual heart of it. Scales often stand for justice and fairness. Could this be a commentary on fairness during times of hardship? A sort of question mark on whether justice exists. Editor: Interesting read. But consider the time. It’s pre-war. We see this embrace of machine production but also, particularly in drawing, the intimacy of observation and documentation through handmade media. This artwork could then serve more simply, more honestly as record. A record of what a merchant used daily. Curator: It reminds me of my grandmother's apothecary cabinet. The scales, the careful labels. All pointing to a bygone era where measurements were acts of almost meditative significance, and I wonder, is there room in art for just showing how we engage with the tools and objects of living? To show our processes? Editor: I think that’s spot on. We’ve gone full circle then. The beauty *is* in its raw documentation; and the raw documentation, indeed, becomes a beautiful expression. Curator: And on that note, I suddenly want to weigh everything! Starting with the weight of words and their meanings... Editor: ... and maybe the worth of old objects rendered through new vision.