Windmolen 1831 - 1904

Editor: This etching, called "Windmolen," possibly made somewhere between 1831 and 1904, is by Arnoud Schaepkens. It’s mostly shades of grey. The cross-hatching feels almost turbulent, like the sky's about to burst, and the mill itself is dark and looming. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Ah, Schaepkens! This tiny etching is like a bottled tempest. The scratches and scribbles aren’t just marks; they're wind, aren't they? Notice how the artist coaxes so much movement from static ink – the frenzy in the sky mirroring the mill’s labor. For me, it is about summoning something from nothing, seeing movement trapped and yet alive, don't you think? Does that evoke any emotions for you? Editor: Definitely a feeling of movement! It also makes me wonder about the labor of milling, the process of creating food. It's so easy to forget about the origins of everyday items. Curator: Exactly! And isn’t that precisely what art should do? To lift the veil from the mundane. This mill isn't just a pretty picture; it whispers of hard work, reliance on nature, the dance between humans and their environment. It reminds me of my grandpa’s old workshop—smells, sounds, the feeling of purpose thick in the air. Does it prompt any memories for you? Editor: Not specific memories, but it gives me an appreciation for how things are made, and how the environment shapes those processes. Curator: Yes! We are left with our shared connection to land, work and sky and of a life lived. I wonder, is the landscape really outside the mill, or is the mill really an element of that landscape? A delicious philosophical dilemma! Editor: It’s been really fascinating to dive deeper and appreciate the story behind the landscape. I’ll never look at a windmill the same way. Curator: Agreed. From fleeting sketch to bottled tempest, there’s such raw emotion captured in ink, etched with wind, work and the soul.