Annette Kolb 1926

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner made this striking woodcut, "Annette Kolb," by carving into a block and printing it, a process that revels in directness. The stark black and white isn't just contrast; it's a whole mood. Look at how he's hacked away at the wood to define her face. Those bold, almost brutal lines aren't trying to be pretty; they're digging into something deeper, maybe even a little unsettling. I love how the raw texture of the wood insists on being part of the story. See how the lines around her eyes aren't just wrinkles; they're like fissures, suggesting she's seen some stuff. And the lips, so meticulously carved, they seem to vibrate. It's like Kirchner is wrestling with representation itself, pushing the boundaries of what a portrait can do. You could say it has a kinship with the graphic force of Munch, or perhaps some later work by Baselitz. It reminds us that art is a conversation, a restless exploration, not a neat conclusion.