Three wooden chairs with caned seats are positioned at the edge of a porch, a softly cloudy abyss seen just beyond as if to suggest heaven or some other celestial plane. The chairs are casually haphazard, as if set there by some god after hosting a dinner party, too tired to stack them neatly. As with much of Elizabeth Quandt’s work, an unasked question is at play in this image that borders - but does not entirely fall into the category of - surrealism.
At Quandt’s most prolific period she had mastered the complexities of intaglio printmaking, allowing for the translation of complex ideas onto the sheet with an elegant, understated hand. Her style is rooted in classical techniques, but her compositions tell a complex and subtle narrative, personal yet still allowing for the viewer to interpret without interruption. “Three Chairs” could as easily be interpreted as an analogy as it is a simple, unfettered expression of mood.