Fliegende Brücke zur Überfahrt der am Ufer wartenden Truppen (_Overtoom_ bei Amsterdam) 

Editor: So, this pen and ink drawing is by Roelant Roghman, titled *Fliegende Brücke zur Überfahrt der am Ufer wartenden Truppen* – or *Flying Bridge for the Crossing of the Troops Waiting on the Shore*. I think it’s also known as *Overtoom near Amsterdam*. It's giving me this strange sense of quiet anticipation; everything's rendered so meticulously, yet there's no real hustle and bustle, more of a held breath. What do you make of it? Curator: That held breath... yes, precisely. I see a captured moment, not just of a place, but of a specific potential. It reminds me a bit of those dreams where you know something significant is about to happen, but it lingers just out of reach. Roghman’s delicate linework, it almost feels like he's sketching not just what is, but also what could be. Have you ever noticed how the light almost seems to pool in certain areas, giving them an ethereal quality? Editor: It does feel kind of dreamlike. Like, that huge…structure, is it a waterwheel? It seems almost out of scale. And why troops waiting on the shore? Is there some unrest? Curator: Ah, good questions! It probably is a waterwheel used for land reclamation, a constant preoccupation in the Netherlands. And the "troops"? Well, maybe it's Roghman adding a touch of drama. Or perhaps, in a deeper sense, these figures represent the ceaseless human effort required to tame the landscape. It invites a story. But really, I wonder what YOU think. Editor: I guess I’m used to seeing landscapes as pretty scenery. But you’re right. There’s this… underlying sense of ambition, of almost wanting to reshape reality itself. It is not just about painting landscape but almost an aspiration. Curator: Exactly. And isn’t that, in a way, what art always does? Maybe Roghman wasn't just recording a scene, but hinting at our eternal drive to build, to bridge, to transform the world around us… and our interior worlds, as well. Editor: Wow, I’ll never look at a simple landscape the same way again. Curator: Nor will I, now.