Portret van Thomas Woodrow Wilson 1934 - 1936

Editor: Here we have Leo Gestel's "Portrait of Thomas Woodrow Wilson," created between 1934 and 1936, using pen and ink. It's at the Rijksmuseum. The raw, almost skeletal lines give it a strikingly haunting feeling. What do you make of it? Curator: Haunting is a great word for it. I see a man, stripped down to the bones of his character, or at least Gestel's interpretation of it. It feels raw, yes, unfinished, like a memory struggling to solidify. And those lines, like scars mapping his face – perhaps the weight of the world etched upon him. What strikes you most about the technique? Editor: I'm drawn to the background. It’s just frantic, scribbled lines, like a storm raging around his head. Curator: Precisely! And the eyes… They're intense, observant, almost wary. It’s like Gestel is saying, "Here’s Wilson, but seen through a lens of post-war disillusionment, perhaps." Or even seen through the artist's own anxieties and uncertainties. It seems like this isn’t just a portrait of a president; it's a mirror reflecting a fractured era. Do you think Gestel intended to humanize Wilson, or critique him? Editor: Maybe both? The frantic lines make me think critique, but then those eyes… They give him humanity. Curator: Beautifully put. It's that ambiguity, that tension between admiration and disillusionment that gives the piece its lasting power, don’t you think? Editor: I do. It makes you think about how we remember historical figures – not as heroes or villains, but as complex people. Curator: Exactly. Art is like that, it can make you ponder the narratives that shape us.