En pragtsal 1765 - 1865

Curator: Well, this is quite striking. Jens Petersen Lund’s "En pragtsal," or "A Grand Hall," created sometime between 1765 and 1865, and currently residing at the SMK, is an interesting example of neoclassical architectural drawing rendered in ink. Editor: Wow, there’s a palpable stillness. That stark ink drawing of a grand hall sort of hangs in a space that feels almost haunted. It's like a meticulously detailed stage set waiting for the players to arrive, but they never do. Curator: It's true the architectural rendering leans into creating an environment using only line work. Think about the labor involved in conceiving such spaces in ink, it speaks to not only precision, but an engagement with the aspirational design of the period. The symmetry, the implied volume, and then we can start to understand Lund's neoclassical intention through the very specific means of his labor. Editor: It's definitely compelling—in its ambition to depict neoclassical splendor. I keep thinking about the weight and heft, particularly the sculptures adorning the hall that seem on the verge of either crumbling or breathing life into the setting. There’s such a ghostly presence evoked, with such exacting line work, which paradoxically captures a ruin rather beautifully. It's both majestic and somehow melancholic at once. Curator: Yes, and in many ways the themes here—history, form, architectural structure—serve to not only document form but demonstrate that form as itself a construction born out of material conditions. It asks the question of the power dynamic innate to the construction of "grandeur" and its attendant labor. Editor: Seeing it laid out in that kind of spare fashion—like a theater set without actors or narrative without a voice— it reminds me of a sketch longing to be built or animated, somehow... though perhaps that's its strange power? Curator: Exactly, and looking at it, one must think about not only the cultural ideals but the means, materiality, and labor implied and expressed. Editor: Indeed. I suppose what remains for me, is this notion of capturing absence; something like a requiem sketched out carefully in ink.