Portret van een onbekende man c. 1887 - 1892

Curator: Here we have Willem Witsen's "Portret van een onbekende man," a charcoal drawing created somewhere between 1887 and 1892. Editor: What a melancholy beauty. It's like a charcoal lullaby—the shadowy face gazing upward with a quiet vulnerability. The textures feel so raw, immediate, almost like I'm intruding on a very private moment. Curator: Note the artist's focus on form, how he uses chiaroscuro to sculpt the figure out of shadow. The impressionistic touches in the background contrast sharply with the realism in the facial details. The work oscillates between a finished portrait and an expressive sketch. Editor: That tension, that back-and-forth, is exactly what grabs me. It feels unfinished in the best way possible. Like the drawing is still breathing, still becoming. The limited palette makes it seem both timeless and terribly of-the-moment. Does that make any sense? Curator: It does. The formal constraint actually amplifies the emotional intensity. The upward gaze suggests introspection, perhaps even a spiritual yearning. Witsen's confident line work coupled with areas of deliberate smudging creates a beautiful dance between precision and suggestion. Editor: Exactly! It’s as though he’s caught a ghost on paper. All this with simple charcoal. I wonder what that unknown man was dreaming, looking up toward nothing in particular. It's fascinating to think about. It all feels so loaded. Curator: Precisely. It is that capacity to evoke questions, rather than provide answers, which situates the drawing’s enduring power, no? Editor: Absolutely. Witsen gave us this fleeting whisper, leaving us to ponder and fill in the blanks, doesn't he? It’s all the more enchanting for it.