Gezicht op de Hervormde Kerk te Vlissingen na de brand in 1911 1911

This photograph of the Reformed Church in Vlissingen was taken after a fire in 1911. The sepia tones and the slightly soft focus give it a feeling of looking back, like a faded memory. You know, when I look at this, I think about how photographs can be like paintings, capturing not just a scene, but also a mood. The way the light catches the ruined walls, it’s almost romantic, even though it's a scene of destruction. I am drawn to the contrast between the solid, geometric shapes of the church tower and the organic, blurred shapes of the trees. It's as if the man-made and the natural world are in a constant state of conversation, or maybe even conflict. The eye is drawn to the dark gaps where windows once were, a powerful symbol of loss. There is something in the photograph about capturing a moment, but also about the passage of time. It reminds me a bit of the architectural photographs of Bernd and Hilla Becher, who also documented buildings as a way of understanding history. Art is an ongoing conversation, after all.