Brief aan jonkheer Hendrik Teding van Berkhout (1879-1969) 1931 - 1932
drawing, paper, ink
portrait
drawing
hand-lettering
hand drawn type
paper
personal sketchbook
ink
hand-written
hand-drawn typeface
journal
visual diary
sketchbook drawing
genre-painting
handwritten font
sketchbook art
modernism
Editor: Here we have "Brief aan jonkheer Hendrik Teding van Berkhout," a letter to Esquire Hendrik Teding van Berkhout, from 1931-32, by Pieter Willem van Baarsel. It looks like ink on paper. It strikes me as almost an intimate glimpse into the mundane details of the artist’s life. What do you see in this piece, that perhaps I am missing? Curator: Oh, it's more than mundane! Look closer. This isn’t just a shopping list; it’s a little symphony of script! Each item, each flourish of the pen – it's like the artist is composing a visual poem out of the everyday. What feelings are evoked by the handwriting itself? Is it hurried, careful, confident? Editor: I see what you mean, there's a certain rhythm in the spacing and how the lists are broken up. I would say his writing is confident, neat even. But how much can we really read into handwriting alone? Curator: Ah, but handwriting IS a direct link to the soul! It's a fingerprint of the mind. Consider how the slant and pressure vary - do they hint at the mood of the writer? Could these names and amounts perhaps symbolize debts, promises, little burdens lifted onto the page? Editor: Interesting, I hadn't considered the writing itself as being so telling. Now it makes me wonder about the jonkheer, and their relationship to the artist. Curator: Indeed. This piece makes me wonder if every casual note or hurried scribble is, in its way, a tiny self-portrait. A question: what "everyday" ephemera will speak for us a hundred years from now? Editor: It’s funny to think about what future generations might find in my own chicken scratch! I will now look at every hand-written piece as more than just the content it carries, but as it's own piece of artwork. Curator: Exactly! Everything contains multitudes if we're only willing to look long enough, hard enough.
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