Crossing Thresholds

Charles Darrow, patent for Monopoly board (1935)

Bernard P. Schardt, Cumberland Checkers (c. 1935-1942)

Oscar Weissbuch, Fields in Spring (c. 1935)

Marion Rites, Autumn Landscape (c. 1937)

The idea of stepping into another world is not new. The iconic 1930s board game Monopoly, and earlier ones like The Game of Life, created structured environments where players navigated through simplified versions of reality, based on experiences such as property ownership and life development choices. Tabletop games invite players to cross physical thresholds, leaving everyday life behind and entering spaces defined by rules, patterns, and movement. The game that’s shown in Bernard P. Schardt’s Cumberland Checkers (c. 1935-1942) dates back many centuries, and is immersive without the benefit of a detailed narrative. Alternate spaces are appealing because they are both familiar and controlled, offering a sense of order while still allowing for exploration—an understandable appeal during the Great Depression. The pleasures of gaming suggest that thresholds are porous, joining together different types of experience in ways that feel engaging and meaningful.

Schardt’s woodcut engraving is conceptually subtle: the patterned squares of its game board are repeated in bricks, clothing, and even finger joints. Two men are linked through the board while both touch a shared jug. Where does the gaming world begin? The pleasures of rules, patterns, and movement inform other New Deal artworks. In Fields in Spring (1935) by Oscar Weissbuch, a rural landscape is abstracted into patterned forms, making the environment feel structured when seen from above, like a board game. A sense of wholeness and order invite viewers in. Marion Rites’ Autumn Landscape (1937) complicates the interface. A cabin depicted in the painting is not clearly defined; rather, it is fragmented behind a kaleidoscope of color and texture, disrupting the clarity seen in more traditional depictions of homes in nature. Yet whether rendered in photorealistic or highly abstracted style, other worlds are inviting, never more so than during times of deprivation or social upheaval. The 1981 children’s book Jumanji—and its later film adaptations—literalize a threshold we can experience across many forms of art. In the story, children discover a board game a hundred years old. Once play begins, tokens begin moving on their own; game elements and eventually the action comes alive in an oridinary living room. We learn that the threshold has been crossed, the game must be completed.