Bomen en een roeiboot aan een waterkant c. 1909s

Editor: So, here we have Alexander Shilling’s "Bomen en een roeiboot aan een waterkant," or "Trees and a Rowing Boat at a Waterfront," done around the 1900s with pencil on paper. It looks like a sketchbook drawing, very spontaneous, almost ghostly. What strikes you about this particular sketch? Curator: You know, what grabs me first is the sheer immediacy. It’s a whisper of a scene, isn’t it? A memory barely caught before it dissolves. Look at how he’s rendered the trees—more like impressions of trees than meticulously drawn botanicals. It's like he's capturing not just what he sees, but how he *feels* seeing it. Almost melancholic, wouldn’t you say? Like a half-remembered dream. Editor: Yes, there's something very fleeting about it. The medium contributes to that effect. Pencil on paper feels so… transient. Is that sense of ephemerality a common theme in Shilling's work? Curator: I think so, in his sketches at least. He often seems drawn to capturing fleeting moments, that delicate dance between light and shadow, presence and absence. Notice how little detail he uses to convey the scene, yet you get such a clear sense of the space. Do you feel you're standing there? Editor: I do. There's a definite sense of place. It's interesting how a quick sketch can evoke so much. It almost makes me wonder what he felt sitting there by the water. Curator: Exactly! It invites speculation, fills in the gaps of what we *don't* see with our own imagination. Shilling leaves room for the viewer, for *you*, to become part of the experience. Editor: I like that. I definitely appreciate it more, understanding his process. Curator: Wonderful. Now imagine yourself grabbing *your* sketchbook... what vista would you whisper onto the page?