Dish c. 20th century

This dish was made by an anonymous artist and now lives at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Looking at this highly textured surface, I imagine the artist patiently carving into the wood. It’s not paint, but carving. The material must feel so different. I bet the artist had to be so careful. The surface seems to have shifted and emerged with each cut, each mark building off of the last, a testament to the artist’s touch. I sympathize with the artist, thinking of the hours spent with their hands, and the rhythm of their actions. The physicality is important: you have to commit to the form. The repetitive mark-making is hypnotic, and the material-- the texture, the color of the wood itself-- shapes our experience of this form. I wonder if it relates to other dishes from this place. I wonder what conversations it might have with the maker who comes next. I wonder about the ongoing conversation that artists have through time.