Habay-la-Neuve 1888 - 1934

This is an etching of Habay-la-Neuve by Willem Adrianus Grondhout, printed on paper, and it’s got that lovely sepia tone, right? It makes me think about how artmaking is often a journey of discovery, a scratching away at the surface to reveal something hidden. The texture is created by these tiny, deliberate lines, almost like whispers on the paper. The ink isn’t caked on; it's more like a stain, a gentle presence. I love the way Grondhout used these lines to create depth, to push and pull the landscape. It's like he's carving the image out of thin air. There’s one tree in the foreground, drawn with dense, almost frenetic lines, it feels like the linchpin holding the whole composition together. Grondhout reminds me a bit of early Whistler, especially in the way he captures the light and atmosphere with such minimal means. But where Whistler is all about mood, Grondhout seems more interested in structure, in the bones of the landscape. Ultimately, what I appreciate most about this piece is its quiet confidence, its willingness to embrace ambiguity.