Untitled 1936

Curator: Jacqueline Lamba created this intriguing, untitled ink drawing in 1936. I'm drawn to its biomorphic abstraction, almost dreamlike quality. What catches your eye? Editor: It’s stark, almost menacing at first glance. I see a landscape, maybe volcanic, but also something cellular, alive in a way that’s both beautiful and deeply unsettling. Curator: Unsettling, yes, I feel that too. It reminds me of certain geological formations, those porous, otherworldly terrains. But also, Lamba's hand is so present in the deliberate pooling of the ink. You see it’s not accidental, more like a collaboration with the medium itself. It reminds me of Leonora Carrington's more intuitive pieces, with that similar dance between conscious and unconscious creation. Editor: Absolutely, the surrealist element is strong. Think of the sociopolitical landscape of the 1930s—the rise of fascism, impending war. An artist channeling that anxiety, that feeling of something immense and terrible bubbling beneath the surface… it feels quite apt. We can even read it as a commentary on the colonial mindset; expansion and exploitation reduced to this… residue. Curator: That's a fascinating lens to view it through. I was just thinking about the scale – it’s deceptively small in the reproduction but knowing Lamba, who so embraced life's mysteries and surprises, she probably saw this small artwork like her own tiny, pocket-sized cosmos of introspection, holding multitudes of realities. Editor: Exactly. The surrealists often used the microcosm to explore macrocosmic truths, and vice versa. Lamba, as a woman deeply embedded within surrealist circles—later breaking away from her husband Andre Breton— undoubtedly brings a particular feminist sensibility to questioning these power dynamics. It's quiet revolution with every drop of ink. Curator: Quiet revolutions. I love that. It feels so perfectly suited to the quiet power of ink on paper. And something so intense and organic and ambiguous is truly the space where ideas take form. Editor: Indeed, like a seed. Thank you, I feel a little less unsettled now and more galvanized!