Gezicht op Bern 1953

Curator: This delicate pencil drawing, "Gezicht op Bern," or "View of Bern," as we’d say in English, comes to us from Max von Mühlenen, circa 1953. What jumps out at you first, looking at it? Editor: It's hushed, isn’t it? Like holding your breath on a winter morning. The monochrome, the detailed hatching… there's a fragility to it, almost as if the city could vanish with a strong gust of wind. Curator: I think that fragility comes from Mühlenen's technique. He truly mastered the pencil—observe how he evokes light and shadow, texture, and distance all with this single instrument. Editor: Yes, there’s something to that simplicity. It’s almost brutalist, wouldn't you say? Deconstructing form to essential lines. Look how the roofs are treated, or the skeletal trees... there's a calculated reduction at work. Curator: Mühlenen really distilled the spirit of the place, in a way only drawing can capture. The sharp lines contrast perfectly with the softer gradations; it’s quite striking! It feels like an act of intense looking and almost childlike wonder, wouldn't you agree? Editor: Hmm, perhaps. Though I read more strategic intent in the reduction of architectural and natural details. Consider the skyline—the spire dominates the scene. Then you see the low angled shadows that create stark diagonal lines across the snow-covered land. In this way, Mühlenen structures not a faithful record but his individual view of a moment. Curator: It seems the quietness, the stillness that Mühlenen has rendered here has a lot to say to us, about light and structure as you note, but also about the way we remember and recreate a beloved place, as well as the impact a place has on its inhabitants. Editor: I agree. Through the intricate interplay of light and form, the artist provides a fascinating interpretation of a time in this very historical cityscape.