Copper Sugar Strainer c. 1938

Editor: This is Annie B. Johnston's watercolor and graphite drawing, "Copper Sugar Strainer," from around 1938. There's something almost tender about the way this utilitarian object is depicted, you know? Like, worn and loved. What strikes you most about it? Curator: The strainer itself becomes a vessel of memory, doesn't it? Each tiny hole, each dent, a marker of countless acts of making and sharing. Copper, historically, often signifies not just warmth, but also prosperity and well-being within a domestic sphere. Consider the colour - the earthy tones, do they suggest something to you? Editor: I guess I hadn't really thought of it that way. They remind me a bit of hearth fires and tradition… something essential, maybe? I’m so used to seeing highly polished objects now. Curator: Exactly! Think of how such humble tools passed between generations. A visual language emerges—the stains and wear literally encode the history of labour and family. What might that tear represent, do you think? The damage on the strainer? Editor: Maybe a hardship or disruption? Or simply that things break down over time? I love how she makes a copper strainer carry so much symbolic weight, even unintentional. Curator: It prompts us to reflect on how everyday items accumulate layers of meaning. That a strainer, rendered so deliberately, could be elevated into something far beyond its mere function is intriguing. Editor: This makes me look at ordinary objects around me differently, and consider them as witnesses. Thank you!