Brief aan Frans Buffa en Zonen Possibly 1876

Editor: So, this is "Brief aan Frans Buffa en Zonen," a letter, likely from 1876, penned by Jozef Israëls, now housed at the Rijksmuseum. It’s simply ink on paper. What immediately strikes me is the intimacy of it—the glimpse into a personal correspondence. What story does this seemingly simple letter whisper to you? Curator: Ah, a whisper indeed. To me, it’s a raw, unfiltered moment caught in time. Israëls, the great painter of the common folk, captured here in his own, very human hand. The elegant, almost hurried script suggests a busy mind, perhaps juggling commissions, deadlines. What I find most touching is the vulnerability – a need to connect. Can you almost feel the pressure he’s under, the slight tremor in the ink as he commits his thoughts to paper? Editor: That’s lovely, the idea of feeling his presence through the handwriting itself. I was so focused on the visual aspect. Curator: Yes, but it’s more than just seeing; it’s feeling. Letters were lifelines then, weren’t they? Holding one, written by someone long gone, is like holding a fragment of their soul. And here, we get to see the artist not as a public figure, but as someone making a human connection with, “WelEd Heer”, well esteemed Sir, maybe a friend or his publisher, Frans Buffa and Sons. He asks them to notify him upon their return and sends his regards to a third party. Isn't that something? Editor: Definitely. I hadn't considered it from such a personal perspective. I suppose I was thinking more about the drawing as a formal object, rather than an intimate message. Curator: Exactly! And perhaps that's the greatest lesson art can teach us, my friend: that even the most everyday objects can be imbued with extraordinary meaning if we simply open our hearts, as well as our eyes. Editor: It does make you wonder about the things we casually toss away today that might tell stories about ourselves. A very thought-provoking perspective. Thanks.