Brief aan Philip Zilcken Possibly 1925

This letter, penned in Paris on May 18, 1925, by Charles Snabilié, is a flurry of looping lines pressed onto paper. I imagine Snabilié hunched over the page, the nib of his pen scratching across the surface, each stroke a delicate dance between thought and action. He's writing to a friend, Philip Zilcken, discussing financial matters with a tone that is both polite and urgent. I can almost see him pausing, mid-sentence, perhaps considering the best way to phrase a delicate question or explain a complicated situation. The ink, now faded with time, once flowed with the immediacy of his thoughts, each word carefully chosen and arranged. The letter feels intimate, like a glimpse into a private conversation. The act of writing—much like painting—becomes a way of working through an idea, a method of inquiry. One stroke leads to another, a sentence unfurls, as Snabilié crafts meaning from language. And now, almost a century later, we get to look over his shoulder and wonder.