Five Studies of Heads; A Boy in Profile with Studies of Hands and Feet [verso] 1884 - 1888

Editor: Here we have Paul Gauguin’s "Five Studies of Heads; A Boy in Profile with Studies of Hands and Feet [verso]", created sometime between 1884 and 1888, using pencil on paper. It’s so raw, isn’t it? Like catching a glimpse into his sketchbook. What do you see in it? Curator: Oh, absolutely! I see Gauguin wrestling with form, wouldn't you agree? Look at the tentative lines, almost like whispers on the paper. I imagine him sitting, perhaps observing his own children, quickly trying to capture the fleeting essence of childhood. It feels deeply personal, like a moment stolen from life itself. It almost looks like when you dream something. The world becomes undefined. And then there are the hands and feet, divorced from any particular body. Did he abandon painting the body parts on purpose or did he get interrupted in his work? What do you think about that choice? Editor: That's a cool way to look at it! So the incompleteness is intentional to better reflect life and thought processes. Curator: Incompleteness isn’t always unintentional. Sometimes the essence is enough, you know? I remember once trying to write a poem about the rain and got stuck on describing how it made me feel as a kid; but what struck me was not the falling water itself. Editor: You're right; it adds to that feeling of intimacy. Like he's inviting us into his private world of artistic exploration. I can almost feel the scratch of the pencil on the page. Curator: Exactly! And isn't that what art is all about? A shared experience, a glimpse into another's soul…or perhaps a reflection of our own. That is why for many people poetry is a world in itself. Editor: So true! I'll definitely look at sketches differently from now on.