Duinpan 1835 - 1892

Curator: So, here we have Jan Willem van Borselen's 'Duinpan', likely painted somewhere between 1835 and 1892. It is currently residing at the Rijksmuseum. It’s an oil on… well, something. Perhaps cardboard, given the dimensions? Editor: There's something wonderfully quiet about this landscape. It's a symphony of muted ochres, browns, and grays – the kind of palette that invites introspection. Curator: Exactly! The colour is really understated isn't it? Van Borselen was a student of landscape painting, but really adopted this plein-air technique, connecting directly with the motifs present in Dutch Golden Age. He captured the transient, almost melancholy beauty of a dune landscape. Dune landscapes often symbolize impermanence - ever shifting... Editor: The presence of stunted trees, half-buried in sand...they are not just part of nature but witnesses, symbols of the unrelenting elements. They carry a history of enduring despite the odds. I keep coming back to how desolate, but hopeful it feels. Curator: Absolutely, the gnarled, wind-beaten trees have such a resilience. Dunes themselves speak to cultural memory. They're borderlands. A zone between sea and land, between worlds really, and the edges of what's cultivated versus what's wild. It mirrors the ambiguity we often find within ourselves! Editor: True - it really does reflect this edge of things. You see this sense of place so purely depicted... almost austere...and this starkness can provoke, almost cathartically, this emotional honesty within the viewer. It pulls back this layer of superficiality in art and says, “Look, just *feel* this moment, this truth.” Curator: That raw authenticity really sums up what Borselen captured so effectively. It's a subtle nod to a simpler time. He lets you into that still, small space. Editor: It's a quiet, introspective piece, a muted testament to survival, or maybe an illustration of where strength often hides in the understated and seemingly desolate places.