Seen Through Forest 1920

This is James N. Rosenberg’s “Seen Through Forest,” and it looks like it was made with graphite on paper. The forest is conjured with countless marks that accumulate in a dark grey haze. I see the artist outside, standing in the cold, squinting. He scratches at the page to find the trunks, the branches, the light leaking through—all of it shivering and dissolving. It’s not quite nothing and not quite something. I wonder if this forest was somewhere special to him? A place to wander, to be alone, to get lost in the shadows. All of those lines and scribbles—they aren’t just describing what's there, they are feelings about the landscape. This reminds me of Guston, but without the pinks. It’s like Rosenberg is whispering secrets with his pencil. That’s the thing about drawing, isn't it? It’s so immediate. It's right there, naked on the page.