Het schip van Henry Hudson, de Halve Maen, nadert de Noord-Amerikaanse kust, 1609 1909

André Vlaanderen’s “The Ship of Henry Hudson, the Halve Maen, Approaches the North American Coast, 1609” feels like a stage set. The palette is muted, like an old theatre backdrop, all creams and pale blues, suggesting the uncertainty of the crossing. I imagine Vlaanderen carefully building up this scene, thinking about the composition, and how to frame the anticipation on those sailors' faces. It’s a theatrical depiction, a group portrait, showing the sailors on deck, a flurry of arms raised, signaling the land. One guy’s even hanging off the bow, so eager to be there! It reminds me of early history paintings, but with a tenderness. Vlaanderen has this way of capturing a moment, the energy of the collective hope and anxiety. He’s not just documenting; he’s inviting us to feel it, too, that mix of fear and excitement. It's like he's asking, what does it mean to arrive, to discover? What happens next? That's what good art does, right?