Rids af en kronhjort 1837

Editor: Here we have Johan Thomas Lundbye's "Rids af en kronhjort," a pencil drawing from 1837. It’s delicate, almost ephemeral, the deer just barely there on the page. What strikes you about it? Curator: It's precisely this fragility, the rawness of the medium, that interests me. Lundbye's choice of pencil isn't arbitrary. In 1837, drawing was becoming increasingly democratized with readily available and cheap supplies. Was Lundbye making a statement about the accessibility of art-making by depicting the stag this way, not through the high-art of painting but the pedestrian utility of drawing? Editor: That's interesting, I hadn't thought of it that way. I was focusing more on the romantic ideal of the natural world. Curator: And that's a valid entry point, absolutely. But let's not divorce the Romantic ideal from its material conditions. Consider the paper itself: what kind is it? What would its cost have been? Was it locally sourced? How do those material aspects intertwine with the symbolism of the stag, often associated with the aristocratic hunt? Was Lundbye pointing to a change in societal hierarchy? Editor: So you're saying that the *how* the art was made, the pencil, the paper, is just as important as *what* was made? Curator: Exactly! We must understand the conditions of its production, distribution, and, yes, even its consumption, to grasp the complete picture. To think about what the choice of pencil suggests in relation to access to art supplies, access to land, who gets to hunt, or make drawings… It’s more than just a deer! Editor: I never considered art from this practical, material standpoint. I find the relation between materiality and hierarchy intriguing, particularly when we look at the labor. Curator: And that connection can be a lens to see new social relations emerging. It forces us to acknowledge the tangible world that underpins even the most idealized images. Editor: Thanks, I'll certainly think about art, and how it's made, differently from now on.