Copyright: Rijks Museum: Open Domain
This letter, “Brief aan Philip Zilcken,” was written in 1911 by N.J. Singels, using ink on paper; the script is so beautiful, it's a dance. I love looking at letters and trying to imagine the hand of the writer as they move across the page. There’s something about the immediacy of ink that captures a thought in its freshest form. Look at the way the ink bleeds ever so slightly into the paper, creating soft edges around each stroke. Some of the lines are thick and confident, others are thin and hesitant, like whispers. It feels like you can see the speed of the writer’s mind through their hand. There’s this one spot, near the middle, where the ink pools, creating a dark, almost shadowy effect. It’s like a little secret hidden in the writing. Thinking about Cy Twombly, his scribbled paintings, with their sense of urgency and raw emotion, reminds me that sometimes the most profound art is the kind that feels like it’s still in the process of becoming. Art is a conversation, full of unfinished thoughts.
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