Hilsen fra Thorvaldsen 1820

Editor: So, this is "Hilsen fra Thorvaldsen," a drawing in ink on paper from 1820 by Bertel Thorvaldsen, housed here at the SMK. It’s essentially an inscription within what appears to be a guestbook. The faded sepia tones of the ink give it a kind of delicate, personal feel, as though we're peering into someone's private memory. What captures your attention when you look at this piece? Curator: Ah, a glimpse into the soul! This little inscription, almost like a whisper across time, is far more profound than a simple signature. It’s like finding a forgotten pressed flower in an old book. You see, Thorvaldsen wasn't just scratching his name. He was imbuing this page with his very essence, his 'hilsen,' his greeting. The deliberate flourish of his signature… doesn’t it almost resemble the sweep of drapery on one of his sculptures? Editor: It does a bit! But it feels so…small. How important is something like this in understanding an artist's body of work? Curator: Size isn't everything, darling. Think of it as a concentrated drop of perfume; a single, potent note that hints at the grand bouquet. This inscription, this "greeting," offers intimacy. It reminds us that even giants, sculptors who shaped marble and myth, were once just people, leaving traces of themselves in quiet, human ways. The way his quill danced across the paper... does that not mirror the dance he choreographed between light and shadow on cold stone? I find it utterly charming! Editor: I guess seeing the person behind the sculpture is kind of interesting. It makes the statues feel more… real. Curator: Exactly! It bridges the gap. It invites us to touch the past, to feel the warmth of Thorvaldsen's hand, however faintly, on that page. It’s a message in a bottle tossed into the sea of time, just waiting for us to find it. A small drawing perhaps, but a mighty connection, wouldn’t you agree? Editor: Definitely! I see it a little differently now – more like a personal note than just some old signature. Thanks!