The Upper Ipswich River c. 1920

Editor: So, here we have Philip Little's "The Upper Ipswich River," painted around 1920. It’s an oil on canvas, and right away, I'm struck by how much energy there is in the water – almost vibrates, you know? It makes me wonder, what's your take on it? Curator: Oh, it definitely sings! You know, I find myself drawn into the quiet rebellion within. Little wasn't just painting a river; he was capturing a fleeting emotional state, a little like the stream of consciousness we find in the writing of his contemporaries, don't you think? See how the light sort of dissolves form? What seems solid isn't, everything is in a state of becoming. Does it remind you of something, some sensation? Editor: That's a lovely way of putting it - "fleeting emotional state." It's funny, I was focusing on the motion but now that you mention the dissolving form I can’t unsee it. How did he get away with something like that back then? Curator: Precisely! Think about what else was going on, post World War One. Values were changing, things felt less fixed. So in some ways, he was just following the water; this river mirrors a cultural shift towards subjectivity and impermanence. That the surface of the water and the surrounding nature reflects light with myriad touches. Don't you almost feel as though the water flows into you? Editor: I see what you mean about that cultural shift. All the colours, and reflections…it feels a little bit melancholy now too, almost like a beautiful goodbye. Curator: Exactly! I think he created a beautiful elegy for something just slipping from our grasp, a little magic maybe. So thanks for the swim in the river of contemplation. Editor: And thank you for the history lesson and for changing the way I see the water! I'll definitely think differently about landscapes from now on.