Pitcher c. 1937

This is Max Soltmann’s painted pitcher, rendered in umber hues and sepia tones on paper. There's an interesting tension in the depiction of this vessel. The muted palette and careful rendering suggest a reverence for form, yet the subject itself – a humble pitcher – hints at a more playful sensibility. Look closely at the handle. It's formed by the body of a leaping dog, its paw forming a hand that grips the pitcher’s side. It’s this surprising detail that I find most compelling. The paint is applied in thin, transparent layers, allowing the texture of the paper to subtly emerge. It gives a tactile quality, reminiscent of the clay from which the original pitcher might be formed. Soltmann's work reminds me a little of Giorgio Morandi’s still lifes, where everyday objects are elevated to the realm of contemplation through careful observation and understated execution. Both artists share a deep appreciation for the subtle beauty of simple forms and the quiet power of restrained color. Ultimately, this painting embraces the beauty found in the unexpected and overlooked.