Schetsboek met 35 bladen 1884 - 1886

Editor: Breitner's sketchbook, dating from 1884 to 1886, seems to me like more than just a collection of preliminary sketches, maybe it’s the accidental poetry of a working artist, the unexpected beauty of something purely functional. What draws your eye in this deceptively simple set of watercolours? Curator: Deceptively simple indeed! It reminds me of those old detective novels where seemingly insignificant details turn out to be the key to the whole mystery. It's tempting to dismiss these stains and smudges, but look closer – these aren't just random marks. See how the colors pool and bleed into one another, creating miniature worlds within the larger frame? And that splotch of crimson, almost defiant in its brightness? It feels like a secret code or maybe a moment of artistic frustration immortalized on paper. What do you suppose Breitner was thinking, feeling, as he worked and reworked these pages? Editor: I guess I was so caught up in the…accidental composition that I missed some of the emotion that might be captured here, as if these are more like Rorschach tests than landscapes. Curator: Precisely! Or like those clouds we stared at as children, each shape morphing into a new fantasy with every passing moment. Think of Breitner, grappling with the changing face of Amsterdam, trying to capture its essence in fleeting glimpses, just as he’s grappling with the effects of the watercolour on his sketchpad. It’s kind of him to share. These “mistakes” are perhaps just as revealing, maybe more so, than any perfectly rendered painting. Editor: It’s so true - now that you point it out, these unintentional markings open up an interesting perspective on the artist’s state of mind and process. Thanks for expanding my way of looking at this! Curator: And thank you for the reminder that art, at its core, is often found in the unplanned moments, the unexpected discoveries. Maybe we should embrace our own "happy accidents" more often, in art and in life!