Shadows on the Agawa, No. 2 1929

Editor: This is Kerr Eby's "Shadows on the Agawa, No. 2" from 1929, an etching printed with delicate, almost whispered, lines. There's something very quiet and still about it, despite the presence of such a large animal. What do you make of this work? Curator: Quiet indeed! It’s like a memory, a half-recalled dream shimmering on the edge of consciousness. Look how the light seems to emanate not just from the scene, but from within the paper itself. The way the artist uses the etching technique, almost pointillist at times, dissolves the edges of reality. It's as though we're catching a glimpse into another world, don't you think? Editor: Yes, it definitely feels like peeking into something private. The moose almost blends with the shadows and foliage. Is there something more than just nature here? Curator: Absolutely! Eby, while a master of depicting nature, imbues it with a sense of romantic introspection. He’s not simply recording what he sees; he’s filtering it through his own sensibility. This is less about a moose in water and more about… well, the fleeting nature of existence. That melancholic moodiness seeps from the paper like morning mist. He also often depicted scenes of war, his vision may just have seeped into everything he saw. How do you see the balance of light and shadow affecting this scene? Editor: I think the soft lighting almost romanticizes the natural elements and minimizes some of the mass of the animal itself. It's less imposing and more serene than I expected a moose to look. Curator: Exactly. See how it is part of the scene; at peace. It all pulls together to a beautifully haunting portrait. I keep coming back to those blurred edges, where does nature stop, and feeling start? Editor: It’s amazing to think about the emotion someone can evoke from pencil and paper, and make it echo almost a century later. Thanks, this was really insightful.