Gondelier boomt een gondel langs gevels aan het Canale Grande in Venetië c. 1914 - 1919

Willem Witsen etched this image of a gondolier gliding past buildings on the Grand Canal in Venice, but the date of creation is unknown. The print is a symphony in sepia; a limited palette of browns and creams that invites us to consider the art-making as a process of tonal exploration. It reminds me how art is often about seeing what you can get away with, the bare minimum needed to conjure a world. Look at the way Witsen has rendered the water. It’s not photorealistic, but rather a series of horizontal lines that suggest movement and reflection. It’s economical, almost diagrammatic, yet emotionally resonant. The shadows under the archway of the building across the canal are dark and mysterious. What lies behind? It’s this kind of ambiguity that I love in art – the invitation to project our own fantasies and fears onto the image. There's a kinship to be found here with the work of Whistler, whose atmospheric studies of London's Thames river share the same tonal sensibilities and a comparable focus on the poetics of place. Ultimately, this print reminds me that art is not about answers, but about asking questions.