Brief aan Philip Zilcken en Henriette Wilhelmina van Baak Possibly 1918

Editor: This is "Brief aan Philip Zilcken en Henriette Wilhelmina van Baak," possibly from 1918, by Henri Verstijnen. It's an ink drawing – or rather, handwriting – on paper. It strikes me as incredibly intimate, like peeking over someone's shoulder as they pour their thoughts onto the page. What feelings does it evoke in you? Curator: Oh, it whispers stories, doesn’t it? Look at the cursive script dancing across the page; each stroke reveals Verstijnen’s state of mind. The way the ink bleeds ever so slightly suggests urgency, doesn’t it? I see vulnerability. A longing, perhaps, embedded in the carefully chosen words dispatched across time and distance. What do you make of the visual rhythm, its arrangement on the paper? Editor: It feels… controlled, yet personal. There’s an almost artistic composition to how the text is spaced, yet you sense the spontaneity of a quickly written note. Did people think of letter-writing as an art form back then, I wonder? Curator: Absolutely! Consider this not merely correspondence, but performance. A dance between the writer and their anticipated reader. And how do we, the accidental eavesdroppers, interpret this dance today? Editor: I think seeing it as a performance unlocks another layer. It’s not just Verstijnen’s feelings but an awareness of the audience—even if it's just Zilcken and Van Baak. This makes me want to see more of his letters; perhaps it's all one big performance or part of his personal sketchbook? Curator: Indeed. And isn't that the charm? We begin with an artifact, and it begins whispering its untold narratives and potential histories if you lend your ear. What starts as ink on paper morphs into imagined voices from long ago. Editor: Thanks for opening my eyes and inspiring further readings!