Een tonijn, een haai en een remora Possibly 1788

Jan Brandes captured these sea creatures with ink and watercolor around 1778, a tuna, a shark, and a remora, each bearing its own story. Look closely at the shark. Its presence evokes a primordial fear, a deep-seated anxiety tied to the unknown depths. From ancient myths to modern cinema, the shark has been a recurring symbol of danger and the untamed forces of nature. But it is the remora, clinging steadfastly to the shark, which strikes me most. This small fish, often overlooked, represents dependency, a symbiotic relationship where survival hinges on attachment. Consider how these roles shift across cultures. In some, the shark embodies strength and resilience, while in others, it symbolizes treachery and deceit. Similarly, the remora's dependence can be seen as both a weakness and a form of cunning adaptation. This constant play of symbols and emotions engages us on a subconscious level, connecting us to ancient archetypes. These creatures—tuna, shark, and remora—are not merely fish. They are vessels of cultural memory, embodiments of our deepest fears and aspirations, swimming through the ever-churning waters of human consciousness.