Zelfportret: B-1-1, 27 februari Possibly 1942

Editor: So, here we have Cor van Teeseling’s pencil drawing, "Self-portrait: B-1-1, 27 februari," likely from 1942. It has such a somber feel, don't you think? It is direct and revealing in ways I cannot quite pinpoint. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Ah, yes, this piece sings of introspection to me. Van Teeseling has captured himself with such a raw honesty. There’s a delicate tension between the softness of the pencil strokes and the direct gaze of the subject. His eyes draw me in; they are rather expressive. I sense vulnerability, don’t you think? Almost as if he’s inviting us into his inner world… even amidst a time where personal truths may have been very costly to reveal. Editor: Vulnerability... That is it! And to render it just in pencil is very stark. Do you think that’s why the melancholy resonates so much? Curator: I think you are on to something. Perhaps it's the simplicity itself—the lack of pretense in choosing such a direct medium. Pencil is immediate, it captures the fleeting moment, the unguarded thought. The artist isn’t hiding behind layers of oil paint or grand artistic gestures. He is meeting us there in the gray, letting us glimpse something intensely personal. Editor: It feels more like a conversation than a staged portrait, if that makes sense. Curator: Exactly! He invites us into this intimate space of self-reflection. And considering it’s a self-portrait made during a particularly turbulent period in history, perhaps it serves as a potent reminder of the quiet strength found in simple honesty. What do you take away most? Editor: That sometimes the most profound expressions are in the subtleties, in the quiet strokes of a pencil on paper. Curator: Brilliantly put. I agree. And sometimes the most moving art leaves you with questions rather than answers, don’t you agree? It stays with you somehow... a murmur of human truth lingering long after you have turned away.