Landskaber 1751 - 1828

Editor: We're looking at "Landskaber" by Johan Búlow, dating from between 1751 and 1828. It's an etching, residing at the SMK in Copenhagen. There's something a bit dreamlike about it; a ruined bridge and figures almost dissolving into the landscape. What jumps out at you in this piece? Curator: The vulnerability, perhaps? See how time gnaws at the stone, and the people almost become part of it – a return to the very source? The composition is key; the bridge a fragile connection between solidity and...well, what *is* on the other side? Notice how Búlow uses etching to almost *sculpt* light, the black ink acting like shadow, giving shape. It reminds me of trying to grasp at smoke, each line a fleeting attempt to hold something impermanent. What feelings rise in *you* when viewing it? Editor: I was thinking about that fragility. The steps crumbling into nothingness! It's oddly peaceful, though. Like the slow, inevitable march of nature reclaiming everything. Does that resonate at all? Curator: Absolutely! This is what gives the image such potency. The man versus nature trope – but seen through a rather romantic lens, a yearning perhaps. Each stroke contains this intimate struggle and surrender. Almost a memento mori—aren’t we *all* becoming landscapes, slowly? Editor: That's beautiful, really shifted my perspective on how to see it. So much more depth than I initially saw. Curator: Precisely the pleasure of slow looking isn’t it? It teaches you to look both within and without simultaneously – perhaps we learn to see both stone and the ephemeral spirit within…