Winding Wheel c. 1937

Florence Truelson made this little watercolor drawing of a Winding Wheel sometime in the first half of the 20th century. You can see how she’s working with browns, sepias, and tans, which create a sense of depth, like she’s coaxing the form into being through these tonal shifts. I can imagine Truelson sitting in front of this winding wheel, studying its intricate mechanics, its spokes and joints. I wonder what she was thinking as she mixed her colors, carefully layering them to capture the play of light on the wood? She’s got a lovely delicate touch, which is no mean feat considering that brown can be a real mood-killer. What saves this painting is the liveliness of the line, the way it trembles ever so slightly. It reminds me of the work of other early 20th-century painters who were interested in rendering the everyday with a fresh eye. Like Charles Demuth, maybe? Ultimately, artists are in an ongoing conversation, exchanging ideas and inspiring each other. Truelson embraces ambiguity and uncertainty in this lovely painting, allowing for multiple interpretations, reminding us that art is a form of embodied expression, inviting us to engage with it on our own terms.