Percuil 

Editor: We’re looking at "Percuil" by Muirhead Bone, a pencil drawing. It feels incredibly still, a hazy, almost dreamlike landscape with a little ferry crossing. What jumps out at you when you look at it? Curator: You know, it's funny, I feel that stillness too. But for me, it’s the *opposite* of dreamlike – there’s this intense focus on detail. Look at the way Bone renders the texture of that thatched roof, the rough sketch of the grass. It’s as if he’s trying to capture the absolute essence of that moment, to imprint it onto the paper. There is something real there, and when I see the world, it almost looks like pencil, in a way it's not but *is*. Does it evoke a particular time period to you? Editor: I hadn’t thought about that level of detail against the broader stillness. Good question – it does feel maybe Edwardian, peaceful before the storm? Curator: Precisely! There's a nostalgia, I think, for a simpler life, for a world before the machine took over completely. What I like about Bone, and this piece, is his lack of grandstanding. You might not immediately gasp but you *do* exhale softly at its sincerity. The man just knew how to put you into a space. Look at the scale - nothing that imposing, which keeps you feeling humble. But I wonder: Do you feel drawn *into* that space, or are you more of a distant observer? Editor: Definitely drawn in, though I see what you mean about sincerity over theatrics. It's that quietness, isn't it? Curator: Exactly. That willingness to just *be*, to record, without the need to shout. I'm still pondering whether the ducks are running away from the noise though! That part still escapes me… But maybe not all has to. Thanks for getting my brain tickin'. Editor: And thank you for showing me so much in such a subtle piece. It shows it's always worth another look.