Thorvald Løchen 1918

Edvard Munch made this image of Thorvald Løchen using oil on canvas, but it’s not about perfection, is it? It’s about the feeling of a person, a moment captured in brushstrokes. Look at the way the paint kind of drips and blurs; it's like Munch is showing us how memory fades, how we hold onto impressions rather than perfect copies. It’s like he’s painting his own fleeting impression of Thorvald. The colours, they’re not trying to be realistic; they’re there to evoke a mood, a sense of introspection. See how the dark suit sort of bleeds into the background? It's like he’s part of the space but also separate, caught in his own thoughts. And the cigarette he holds? It’s like a little spark of life, a small, defiant gesture against the weight of everything else. This reminds me a little of Whistler, but more raw, more vulnerable, more… Munch. It’s not just a portrait; it's a slice of someone’s inner world, laid bare on the canvas.