Precipice 

Editor: So, we're looking at "Precipice," a drawing by Franz Kobell, rendered in pencil, ink, and frottage. There’s an almost nervous energy to all the cross-hatching. What catches your eye in this landscape? Curator: That nervousness you mention is palpable, isn't it? For me, it's the ambiguity. Is it a threatening landscape, a site of impending doom, or just a romanticized vision of nature's power? The lack of a definite date teases us; it could be sketching out Enlightenment ideals or grappling with the Romantics’ sublime! Notice how the lines themselves are both delicate and frantic, almost as if Kobell was wrestling with the scene himself. Does the landscape seem inviting or hostile to you? Editor: I’m torn. The foliage feels wild, unkempt – like you could easily get lost. But there’s also a distant structure, a possible dwelling. It’s a bit like a fairytale setting. Curator: Exactly! The detail teases you with safe havens, a space within a space; civilization and wildness interlocked. Makes me consider Kant's writing on nature; he argued that viewing sublime natural scenes prompted contemplation about reason and nature and one’s small place in the whole thing. But it isn’t necessarily *pleasant*. Does Kobell strike you as 'enlightened' by the experience, or something else? Editor: Maybe more overwhelmed? The detail almost gets lost in itself. All that energy…I wonder what Kobell was feeling. Curator: Perhaps, Kobell wanted *us* to project *our* own experiences of contemplating nature, making the drawing into something interactive, beyond a nice view to look at? A dare I say… precipice of possibilities? Editor: I didn't consider how involved I'd become in interpreting the landscape's mood, it really pushed me to ask how *I* feel. Curator: And that’s the real joy, isn’t it? Letting the artist's "nervousness", their emotion, provoke us, stir up our own experiences. Art then comes to life with our emotions and stories!