Landschap, mogelijk een duinlandschap c. 1888 - 1891

Curator: Before us, we have Willem Witsen’s “Landscape, Possibly a Dune Landscape," created circa 1888 to 1891. It’s a drawing, executed in pencil. Editor: Stark. Immediately, it strikes me as bleak. A tangle of exposed roots or branches clawing against what looks like a very unstable landscape. The sharp diagonals convey a feeling of precarity. Curator: That precariousness reflects the artist's socio-political circle in the Netherlands during that time. Witsen was part of the “Tachtigers,” a group of Dutch writers and artists challenging conservative societal norms. His landscapes weren’t just about pretty scenery; they mirrored the anxieties of a rapidly changing world. Industrialization, urbanization—all deeply impacted their sense of national identity. Editor: Yes, I see it in the nervous energy of the pencil strokes, the way the shading seems to almost vibrate. Even without knowing the title I immediately identified dunes, perhaps because dune landscapes have always stood as a symbolic frontier—the border between land and sea, the known and unknown. Curator: And the starkness of the image reinforces the lack of stable ground. We also have to consider Witsen’s personal struggles. He faced periods of deep depression. Mental health was certainly not openly discussed, so many artists expressed such feelings symbolically. Editor: Right, so these harsh lines could be interpreted not just as a visual representation of the landscape but also of Witsen's internal emotional terrain. It reads as almost apocalyptic. Curator: The beauty of art is its layers, isn’t it? You have the social, the personal, and the formal elements, all intertwining to create something deeply affecting. Even a seemingly simple pencil sketch like this holds a world of meaning. Editor: I find myself reflecting on how landscapes are rarely just neutral spaces; they're reflections of the human condition, both personal and collective. Thank you for revealing a different way to engage with it.