Two Heads 1888

Editor: Here we have Paul Cézanne's "Two Heads," a pencil drawing from 1888. It’s deceptively simple; I find it strangely serene, almost dreamlike. What do you see in this piece, what’s your take on it? Curator: It's funny you say serene; I find a restless energy in those pencil strokes. Cézanne’s not trying to give us a polished portrait, is he? It feels like he’s searching, almost palpating these forms with his pencil. The repetition, those layered lines – it's like he's trying to build the heads, not just represent them. Notice how he gives different weights and densities to the pencil strokes. It makes me think about building with feelings… What do you think of how one head is almost a fragment of another? Editor: I hadn't considered that fragmentation so directly, but that makes sense, especially with his later, more abstract work in mind. Almost like echoes of each other. Does that point to something beyond just practice, do you think? A relationship maybe, or a memory? Curator: Maybe so, yes! Don't you think a quick sketch could be both fleeting and full of the memory? The tender lines around the smaller head make me think he felt a need to recall and recompose with precision a memory dear to his heart. Almost as if they are different temporal moments. And perhaps he succeeds through those very sensitive lines! Editor: I can see that tenderness in those lighter lines. It’s like he’s cradling that head with his pencil. I never thought I could find so much emotion in a seemingly simple sketch. Thanks, I feel I really got a grasp on Cézanne's state of mind. Curator: And I learned something new from your sensitivity about temporality and the relation with emotions. Every picture hides infinite secrets.