Koe bij hek 1872 - 1932

Curator: Before us, we have "Cow by a Fence," a print by Frans Smissaert, created sometime between 1872 and 1932. It’s an etching. Editor: The landscape feels barren. Isolated, almost. There’s a kind of muted melancholia evoked by the monochrome. What strikes you most about the composition? Curator: I am drawn to the image of the cow, pressed against what appears to be a border; or at least, a threshold. I’m intrigued by how it acts as a quiet visual commentary on our complicated relationship with animal life, the boundaries that separate our spaces and beings, how we engage with exploitation and enclosure. Editor: Interesting. For me, the fence creates an impression of rustic charm, perhaps. Fences often speak to protection and the taming of nature, but in this scene, there’s an overwhelming flatness that I read as peace rather than restriction. There's continuity. Is it possible this animal represents something culturally ingrained and consistent? Something idyllic? Curator: Perhaps that idyllic vision exists precisely because of those unseen power dynamics, that historical lineage of controlling the land and its inhabitants. Look at the animal; the lines feel etched with both detail and exhaustion, that weary resignation of domesticated existence. It brings up considerations around labor, and questions of the non-consensual blurring of lines. Editor: Still, Smissaert chose to focus on the pastoral, seemingly finding beauty in the mundane. And the very image of the cow—doesn't that resonate with enduring symbols of nourishment and fertility? It connects back to the earth in a fundamentally sustaining way. There's something intrinsically powerful and deeply rooted. Curator: Of course, it would be overly reductive to assume that is *all* the imagery holds, but the conversation it sparks is a needed step for today. Editor: Yes, these dialogues create room for broader, and possibly deeper resonance with each piece.