Brief aan Philip Zilcken Possibly 1911 - 1912

In 1911, Jean-José Frappa penned this letter to Philip Zilcken. The ink is blue, a deliberate, elegant choice, and the handwriting leans into the conventions of the day. I can picture him at his desk, Le Monde Illustre letterhead crisp under his hand, carefully forming each word with a fountain pen. There’s something intimate about handwriting, you know? Each stroke tells a bit of the writer's story. The loops and flourishes in Frappa’s script, the way he spaces his words – it all adds up to a distinct rhythm. You can almost hear the scratch of the nib on paper, the gentle pauses as he considers his phrasing. What was going on in his life at that moment? Was the light streaming in through the window, or was it a gray Parisian day? Letters are like paintings. Each one is a little self-portrait of the writer, a moment frozen in time. Frappa is in conversation with Zilcken, yes, but he's also talking to us. I think painters are always in conversation in this way, even when we don't realise it.