Achtergevels van huizen aan de Warmoesstraat 1890 - 1946

Editor: Here we have Cornelis Vreedenburgh’s "Achtergevels van huizen aan de Warmoesstraat," made sometime between 1890 and 1946 using pencil. It's currently held at the Rijksmuseum. It's a quick sketch of a cityscape, mostly rooftops and backs of buildings, it's rendered really spontaneously. It seems quite rough. What's your take? Curator: Rough indeed, but think of it as… honest. It's a glimpse into Vreedenburgh's process, like catching a thought as it forms. Do you feel the rhythm in the repeated shapes of the gables, the almost musical quality? It’s not just *what* he’s drawing, but *how* he’s feeling it. It reminds me of wandering those old streets myself, a visual shorthand for a place crammed with stories, don't you think? Editor: I see what you mean. The repetitiveness becomes its own kind of language, a quick way to suggest an entire city block. It’s a little bleak though, focusing on the back of things, not the grand facades… Curator: Perhaps. Or maybe it’s an invitation. Peeking behind the curtain to see the bones of the city, the unglamorous reality where people actually *live*. Do you get a sense of history layering upon history in those ramshackle lines? It's real. He isn’t trying to sell you a postcard. I feel the energy and rhythm within the grey lines of his pencil. Editor: That's true. Thinking about it that way, it feels more authentic than a picture-perfect scene. It captures a particular mood really well, not just the physical appearance. I see it differently now. Curator: And that’s the magic, isn't it? One sees the soul beneath the surface, once their perspective opens a bit more. I am inspired by such rawness! I should experiment in capturing the unseen…