Gezicht op Kopenhagen met de Verlosserskerk c. 1919

Curator: This sketch by Isaac Israels, created around 1919, captures a "Gezicht op Kopenhagen met de Verlosserskerk" or "View of Copenhagen with the Church of Our Saviour," currently residing at the Rijksmuseum. It’s executed using pencil on paper, a quickly rendered impression. Editor: Mmm, immediacy is right. Looking at this, I'm immediately transported. There's something very raw and intimate about the scene, like stumbling upon a private moment in the city's day. Curator: The use of pencil lends itself to this effect. Israels's quick, scribbled lines are really about capturing light and form, wouldn’t you agree? There isn't much concern for detail or polished finish here. Editor: Precisely! That almost frantic energy is visible in the marks. I can almost feel his hand moving, trying to distill the essence of Copenhagen into a few strokes. The roughness gives it charm. Curator: And it connects, I think, to his broader practice, concerned with process and labor. This wasn't conceived as a final piece for sale; rather, a part of his investigation in pictorial terms. It's intriguing to consider how the ease of material—pencil and paper—influences artistic decisions versus, say, painting in oils on stretched canvas. Editor: Absolutely. It feels incredibly honest, even vulnerable, a window into the artist’s working process, you know? No artifice, just pure observation filtered through his artistic lens. Makes you think about all the unseen sketches that lie behind finished masterpieces. It even begs the question, what IS finished? Curator: Yes, absolutely. It forces us to question value judgments we make regarding 'finished' art. The casualness emphasizes that a different type of skill lies behind the work. I keep imagining his hands working—the feel of the pencil, its constant, yet malleable state through mark-making... Editor: Now I can see it too! This small drawing has a power, though. A reminder that art doesn’t always have to shout to be heard; sometimes, the quietest voices resonate the loudest. Curator: Indeed, it's these intimate, fleeting glimpses that can reveal the most profound insights. Thank you for this chat. Editor: My pleasure entirely, thank you. It’s wonderful when something simple invites so much reflection.