Gamle Hus Ved Sole 

Editor: We're looking at "Gamle Hus Ved Sole," a drawing – possibly ink, charcoal or even a woodcut – by Theodor Severin Kittelsen. The date is unknown. My first thought is, it’s incredibly melancholic. The houses feel… forgotten. What catches your eye? Curator: Forgotten… yes, and somehow also stubbornly present. Notice how the artist uses line—so delicate, almost hesitant, to describe the rough texture of the wood, the wildness of the overgrown roofs. It feels as though Kittelsen isn't just showing us houses, but a feeling of a life lived in close conversation with nature. Do you see how the light seems to be absorbed, almost held, by the scene? Editor: It’s not a bright, sunny day, is it? More like twilight? Curator: Or maybe the memory of twilight? The subdued tones enhance that sense of reverie, don’t you think? The way the forms are suggested rather than defined contributes to a certain dreamlike quality, almost blurring the line between reality and folklore, very typical of Kittelsen. One can almost imagine trolls peering from those windows! Editor: Trolls! I was thinking something sadder, but trolls definitely work! I guess it's open to interpretation... I didn't know much about the artist. It does invite a sense of wonder and otherworldliness, a uniquely Norwegian perspective. Curator: Exactly! The power of suggestion is often more potent than explicit statement. I suppose this little journey reminds us that art invites us not only to look, but also to *feel* the stories whispered in its details, even if it includes sad trolls. Editor: So true, art awakens you, doesn't it?