Gewässer bei hohen Felsen, im Vordergrund zwei Angler 

Editor: So, this drawing, "Gewässer bei hohen Felsen, im Vordergrund zwei Angler" – loosely translated as "Waters by high cliffs, with two anglers in the foreground" – is by Franz Kobell and currently at the Städel Museum. It's ink and pencil on paper. It has this wonderful, almost dreamy quality, despite the precise detail. What strikes you about it? Curator: The immediate pull for me is the quiet solitude. It's a dance between observation and… almost a sigh. Kobell wasn't just documenting; he was breathing in the landscape, wasn't he? And it feels deeply personal. The fishermen aren't the stars, they're whispers in a grand composition. Editor: A whisper, I like that! It does feel incredibly balanced, despite the asymmetry of the cliffs. The human figures almost ground it, keeping it from becoming totally sublime. Curator: Exactly! There's that tension, isn't there? Do you think he's suggesting a relationship, or perhaps tension, between humanity and nature? Or maybe he’s suggesting a harmonious blending, you see it depends how much optimism we bring to the question, or better, how much are we willing to borrow of Kobell's. What do *you* think? Editor: Hmmm, good point! It definitely depends on my mood today... I initially felt they were separate entities, but seeing the fishing rods now, I think it implies they're both intertwined and inevitably affecting one another. Curator: I love that. "Inevitably affecting one another" encapsulates a vital component of art appreciation; to acknowledge this "inevitability" means also to accept and invite surprise and unpredictability. It reminds me of a hike I took last autumn...but I digress. Ultimately, what strikes me most is the artist’s ability to convey the weight of those cliffs with such delicate lines. How about you, has your perspective changed at all? Editor: Absolutely. I came in seeing a pretty landscape, but now I’m seeing a dialogue between the artist, the landscape, and us. And that's so cool.