Pitcher c. 1940

Roberta Spicer’s ‘Pitcher’ emerges gently from the paper, a symphony of soft grays coaxed into form. You can almost see her, hunched over the page, squinting at the light as it plays on the curves of the original object. I find myself wondering about Spicer, and what she might have been thinking as she worked. Perhaps she was captivated by the subtle dance of light and shadow, the way a simple object can become an infinite study in form. Look how she coaxes a sense of volume from the flat surface through the layering of tonal variation and the subtlest gradations of colour. The surface, in turn, becomes alive with quiet intensity. It reminds me a bit of Morandi, in the way he'd keep painting the same bottles over and over. Each time trying to see something new. Painting is so much about seeing, and I imagine Spicer saw something new in this pitcher each time she picked up her pencil. These humble, everyday objects become profound meditations on light, space, and being, capturing a fleeting moment in time.