Nieuwjaarswens van de lantaarnopstekers van Amsterdam voor het jaar 1839 1838 - 1839

Curator: This piece is rather charming, wouldn't you agree? What we have here is "Nieuwjaars-Wensch van de lantaarnopstekers van Amsterdam voor het jaar 1839," or “New Year's Wish from the Lamplighters of Amsterdam for the year 1839,” created between 1838 and 1839. It resides now at the Rijksmuseum. Editor: My first thought is of paper and ink, the very stuff of everyday communication. It strikes me as being less concerned with immortality and more with being distributed and consumed. I imagine the process was designed for efficient duplication. What material observations can you make, beyond it appearing like pen work over aged paper? Curator: Well, the "personal sketchbook" feel is deliberate, even though this isn't necessarily a raw study. I think it wants to communicate a folksy authenticity through the drawing and old engraving style. If we look closely at the details, there's a real attention to place. I wonder what Jacob Coldewijn was hoping to communicate. Editor: Perhaps that everyday labor matters? Consider those lamplighters—they are essential workers of their time, literally bringing light to the city. Their livelihoods depended on lighting technology and access to fossil fuels and manufactured components like glass panes, all delivered by commercial tradesmen of various expertise. They offer a humble gift and, in turn, receive their modest recompense. The print *is* the transaction. Curator: That’s an interesting point. You're seeing the art almost as part of the transaction itself. But perhaps it's more sentimental? "Happy New Year from the lamplighters," a simple offering hoping for continued prosperity, illustrated through its wintry cityscape backdrop... I'm especially charmed by that little dog trotting along! Editor: Sentimental, sure, but deeply connected to their means of survival. I look at the sketch work, at the quickly rendered details, and I see a workshop where things are efficiently and skillfully replicated so that people receive these little printed hopes with their due payment. What appears spontaneous, and what they want to seem charming and unique, are carefully manufactured, distributed, and, eventually, used up. Curator: Hmm, yes... the fleeting nature of it, a functional and commercial exchange made "precious" through time and display. That simple truth helps me consider all art’s relationship to its surrounding circumstances, too. Editor: And what makes even ephemeral images worthy of preservation and consideration within grand halls centuries later, isn’t it? I hadn't quite thought of it that way, either.