En gammel harpespiller og en dreng under et træ 1820 - 1887

Editor: Here we have Johan Frederik Rosenstand's "An Old Harp Player and a Boy under a Tree," probably made sometime between 1820 and 1887. It's an ink drawing, maybe also a print or woodcut, and it’s currently at the SMK. The linework is striking, giving it a sort of stark, fairytale quality. What stands out to you most about it? Curator: It whispers a forgotten ballad, doesn't it? I see more than just figures under a tree; I see a conduit between generations. The old harper, perhaps blind, sharing ancient tales, or simply a melody, with the eager youth. The harp itself, though still, feels as though it's breathing. I wonder, is the boy holding a flute, preparing to join in, adding his youthful vitality to the harper's wizened wisdom? What kind of music do you imagine they’re creating? Editor: I imagined something ancient and mournful. The landscape is quite stark. Curator: Ah, but even starkness holds a beauty, doesn’t it? Think of the medieval narratives, the sagas, where even hardship and sorrow ring with a certain beauty. The setting feels symbolic, remote, almost otherworldly. Is that a rising sun, or a pale moon hanging in the background? It alters the mood entirely. I’d like to think Rosenstand sought to capture more than just a scene; perhaps a feeling, a tradition carried through time, as simple and enduring as the lines on this paper. It really makes one reflect on their own connections to the past. Editor: That makes me think of storytelling—both visual and musical. It is neat how the stark imagery can hold that sentiment. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the work! Curator: My pleasure entirely! Art, at its finest, should always invite such dialogue. It lives and breathes when we give it our own stories, I feel.