Schetsboek XIX met 22 bladen 1921 - 1922

Curator: Up next, we have “Sketchbook XIX with 22 leaves” dating back to 1921-1922. This particular object, housed right here at the Rijksmuseum, provides an intimate look into the creative practice of Isaac Israels through his drawings and watercolors on paper. Editor: It feels almost…sad. Like a forgotten treasure discovered in a dusty attic. The faded grey cover hints at so many untold stories trapped within those pages. Curator: Absolutely. And if you observe closely, the cover itself offers a fascinating narrative. There's the label indicating "Prinses Juliana School – Djokja", which speaks volumes about its origins and potential context. This isn't merely a collection of drawings; it is probably related to architectural designs made at a school in Jakarta. Editor: That makes perfect sense. I can imagine Israels, perhaps during a trip, capturing fleeting impressions. Did you notice those inscriptions? They could provide details to better understand its owner at that time, such as initials and titles. They are a real door to connect with him. Curator: Indeed. His notations—scribbles, calculations, or maybe just doodles—reveal the unfiltered, raw energy of his process. And for me that grey, that muted background... It speaks not only of history but also the essential support. Think of the gray and toned ground in academic paintings, or Japanese drawings... a place where every stroke counts. Editor: I love that. You're right; it's about intention and reduction, finding beauty in the seemingly mundane, you are stripping away the extraneous, that is where real art begins. That gives us clues on his painting style to focus in the essentials, the things that truly mattered. Curator: Precisely. Its incompleteness isn't a flaw; it's an invitation. A call to finish the sentences left unsaid. Or maybe to dream ourselves on the banks of a Javan river while drawing sketches and taking notes of its inhabitants during that colonial age. Editor: This changed my perception entirely. That notebook isn't about lost brilliance; it is an invitation. Curator: Precisely. A chance for all of us to discover an unkown side of a grandmaster.