Drie schepen: twee spéronares van Scilla en een tartanes 1778

Editor: This watercolor and etching, "Three Ships: Two Speronaras of Scilla and a Tartane," by Louis Ducros, painted in 1778, has a gentle, almost dreamlike quality to it. The colors are so soft and muted. What draws your eye in this piece? Curator: You know, it's the calmness that gets me, too. Almost a pre-storm stillness in the air. Ducros captures a scene, yes, but he also catches a feeling. Look closely, and you can almost smell the sea salt. This work breathes the 18th century—think leisurely travel, exploration, and a kind of detached curiosity about the world. Do you feel that detachment in the almost scientific precision of the rendering? Editor: I do, actually. There's something very observational about it, not romanticized. The way he outlines the ships so precisely… but it’s a landscape too! Curator: Precisely! And the boats themselves tell a story, don’t they? Each vessel, with its particular sail configuration, is almost a portrait. They hint at different origins, different purposes… even different destinations, and perhaps this contrast, these almost clashing ships, give a quiet harmony to the work as a whole? Editor: It does make me wonder about the stories of the people on those boats. They seem so far away. Curator: Exactly! That sense of distance is so key to understanding the work. The Baroque style peaking through here almost places us as privileged onlookers of some distant landscape. Perhaps Ducros means us to remember a past, that seems far away? Maybe the same can be said about our relationship with art and nature these days. Editor: That’s really thought-provoking. I hadn’t considered that aspect. It feels more complex now. Curator: Wonderful, isn't it? An unassuming watercolor pulling us into such depths! I find the painting rather meditative and an astute, silent commentary about a fading time. What do you think now? Editor: Definitely, seeing the history and stillness changes everything. I'm seeing so much more.