Brief aan Samuel Putnam Avery Possibly 1894

Editor: Here we have what appears to be a letter, titled "Brief aan Samuel Putnam Avery," possibly from 1894 by William Macbeth. It's ink on paper and I must say, it has this quaint, almost wistful feeling to it. What jumps out at you when you see it? Curator: It’s the intimacy, isn’t it? More than the information conveyed – which seems to be a rather polite business refusal concerning some etchings – I'm captivated by the handwriting itself. Look at the loops and swirls. Each stroke feels like a breath from the past, doesn’t it? And consider Macbeth’s position – not the artist himself, but a dealer. Do you think this letter humanizes him beyond the art world transactions? Editor: I suppose it does. We see the struggles of selling art, even back then. There's this practical element clashing with the potential artistry, don’t you think? I imagine him, pen in hand, carefully forming each word. Did artists commonly correspond like this with dealers at the time? Curator: Oh, absolutely! This was long before email, so correspondence was how relationships were maintained, deals were struck, and opinions were shared. And letters…well, they are remnants, echoes of intention, don't you agree? You feel a sense of weight, almost ghostly, because it connects to the absent writer. It speaks volumes – no pun intended – about the art world's infrastructure. Editor: It's true, you get the feeling it's been passed through hands. I wonder what Avery thought when he received this? It feels more significant than a simple rejection; maybe he was holding out for a better offer? Curator: Exactly! It allows for speculations and adds a new layer of insight. In some ways, it reminds me that even refusals, delays and bureaucratic communication from years past can hold art, history and insight in itself. Editor: So, a letter refusing an artwork becomes a piece of art itself? I think I see what you mean. It all connects. Thanks, this gives a lot more meaning to such a simple image!