Kornstaurer i Maaneskinn 

Editor: Here we have Theodor Kittelsen's "Kornstaurer i Maaneskinn", which translates to "Haystacks in Moonlight". It's made with coloured pencils and pastels. It has such an eerie and solitary feeling, like the haystacks are figures standing vigil. What do you make of this work? Curator: It certainly evokes a sense of the uncanny, doesn't it? For me, this image speaks volumes about our relationship to the land, particularly in a socio-political context. The haystacks, anthropomorphized as you pointed out, stand as silent witnesses. How does the setting – the liminal space of twilight – influence your reading of this artwork? Editor: It definitely amplifies the sense of unease, like something's about to happen, or like the landscape itself is holding its breath. The haystacks are almost ghostly. Curator: Precisely. And I'd argue that that feeling of "holding breath" extends to the communities dependent on the land, who often faced precarious existences. Are these haystacks guardians of something, or are they the remnants of a harvest – a stark reminder of the cyclical nature of life and the ever-present threat of scarcity? Where does that dichotomy lead us, do you think? Editor: That's a fascinating point. I hadn't considered the economic anxiety that might be embedded in such a seemingly tranquil landscape. It adds a layer of complexity. Perhaps these haystacks are a visual representation of the precarious balance between survival and hardship. Curator: Exactly. And it pushes us to consider how artists, consciously or unconsciously, reflect and respond to these broader societal anxieties within their work. Thank you, it seems we have collectively unearthed rich seams of historical and societal anxiety buried just beneath a romantic, seemingly quiet rendering. Editor: I’ve learned so much today!