Tambour Desk c. 1936

Editor: Here we have Bernard Gussow's "Tambour Desk," made around 1936. It's a watercolor and drawing. I find the piece quite fascinating; it's almost photographic in its detail, yet somehow flattened. What do you see in this work? Curator: Well, the Tambour desk itself is a symbol of a certain kind of domesticity and order, isn't it? Think about what a desk *means*. Control, organization, secrets… Now consider the geometric rigidity depicted. Does the artist intend to capture order, or control? Or perhaps is there something unsettling? The colors used in rendering the wood grain are muted; it's realistic but drained of life, you might say. Does this resonate with anything, say, from that historical moment? Editor: I see what you mean. Given that it's the late 1930s, during the Depression, this attention to detail and order, rendered in such lifeless colours, speaks to a longing for stability maybe? A hyper-controlled domestic space? Curator: Precisely! The object, meticulously rendered, also feels slightly… haunted. The geometric shapes and repetitive patterns evoke a sense of the uncanny. Notice how the artist almost obsessively delineates the lines and patterns. What could these symbols tell us about personal, or collective anxiety? Is there an element of cultural memory reflected in the depiction of furniture of this style? Editor: That’s a great point. I didn't initially see it as something "haunted," but that definitely shifts my perception. This precision almost feels like a kind of anxiety, a fear of things falling apart perhaps. Curator: Yes, and it's fascinating how a seemingly simple image can hold so much symbolic weight and resonate with cultural anxieties that extend beyond the immediate visual representation. Editor: I definitely understand the value of digging below the surface appearance! Thank you!