Towers in the Sun 1933

William Charles McNulty made this etching called "Towers in the Sun" sometime in the mid-20th century, a delicate dance of dark lines and light spaces. I imagine McNulty, perched somewhere high above, his gaze fixed on the city's jagged skyline, squinting through the sun. The artist etches the city not as static monoliths, but as living, breathing forms—a network of hatch marks building these towering giants. There's a real sense of touch here, of the artist’s hand moving across the plate, translating the world through a language of lines. The composition is like a symphony, a constant interplay of light and shadow, mass and void. It reminds me of Piranesi and his etchings, not just in the subject matter but in the mood: the drama of architectural scale and the individual's place within it. Artists are always drawing from one another, aren't they? Like echoes in a room, bouncing back and forth. Each artist contributing their own layer of meaning and perspective. They help us to see and feel the world in new ways, to expand our own understanding of what it means to be human.