Betsy van Vloten, slapend 1893 - 1897

Editor: So here we have Willem Witsen's "Betsy van Vloten, slapend," a pencil and graphite drawing dating from between 1893 and 1897, held at the Rijksmuseum. It’s…unsettling. The angle, the sleep so deep. What's your read on it? Curator: Unsettling, yes, but perhaps also deeply intimate. Imagine the quiet of the room, Witsen observing Betsy in repose. Sleep strips away artifice, doesn't it? We see something very raw. Look at the softness of the graphite, the way he suggests the fall of light on her face. Do you find a sense of vulnerability there? Editor: Absolutely, but also a slight… clinical detachment? Like a scientist observing a specimen, if that makes sense. Curator: Ah, a very modern observation. Perhaps. Or maybe it's simply the artist's gaze, always slightly detached, transforming lived experience into form. I wonder, did the unfinished nature of the piece influence your experience of it? Editor: Good question. It might. It feels like a captured moment, not a definitive statement, leaving it open to many interpretations. Curator: Exactly! It's a whisper, not a shout, inviting us to contemplate the ephemeral nature of existence. These fleeting moments. Witsen invites us to dream alongside Betsy. Editor: I hadn't thought about it that way. The incompleteness now feels more like an invitation. Curator: And that, my friend, is the power of art! Shifting perspectives, revealing hidden depths. Editor: Thanks for untangling that for me. It's far more poetic than I first gave it credit for!