Onthoofding van Mr. C. van der Burgh, burgemeester van Bolsward, 16 mei 1789 by Jacobus Buys

Onthoofding van Mr. C. van der Burgh, burgemeester van Bolsward, 16 mei 1789 Possibly 1789 - 1801

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drawing, ink, pen

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drawing

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narrative-art

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figuration

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ink

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romanticism

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15_18th-century

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pen

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cityscape

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genre-painting

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history-painting

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academic-art

Dimensions height 82 mm, width 56 mm

Editor: Here we have "Beheading of Mr. C. van der Burgh, Mayor of Bolsward, 16 May 1789," a pen and ink drawing by Jacobus Buys, dating from around that time. The scene it depicts is pretty grim; it definitely gives off a sense of public brutality. What's your take on it? What grabs your attention? Curator: Well, immediately I feel a pang of… discomfort, of course. It's easy to romanticize the past, but drawings like this—so immediate, almost journalistic—yank us back to a reality that smells of sweat, fear, and cold stone. Buys, though, he isn't merely documenting; he’s crafting a narrative, don't you think? Note how he positions the executioner, almost Christ-like in stance. It’s about power, naturally, but what kind? Divine justice, cold political calculation, or simply mob rule sanctioned by those fancy houses in the background? Editor: It's unsettling how calm the houses look! But "mob rule," that’s interesting… the crowd feels so present. Is the romantic style adding anything specific to the image’s overall message? Curator: Absolutely! Romanticism isn't just about swooning lovers; it’s about intense emotional experiences, both personal and collective. Buys is tapping into the revolutionary fervor of the late 18th century. He makes you *feel* the weight of that sword about to fall, doesn’t he? Are we celebrating justice, or are we becoming complicit in something monstrous? That ink isn't just capturing an event; it's probing our own capacity for cruelty, our own anxieties. Editor: That makes total sense. Seeing it like that makes it much more engaging, almost confrontational. Curator: Precisely! And that, my friend, is where the real art happens: in the discomfort, the questions, and the shudder of recognition.

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