Johanna 

Curator: Up next, we have a striking charcoal drawing, simply titled "Johanna" by Theodor Severin Kittelsen. There’s no precise date available. Editor: My first impression is one of quiet dignity. The subject's gaze is averted, perhaps lost in thought, or resigned, maybe even dreaming a bit. It looks to me like the very face of resilience. Curator: It is a beautiful study in light and shadow. Notice the careful rendering of her cap. The texture gives you a sense of its materiality. Editor: Indeed. Consider also the craft involved, this lace is something that requires skillful manual labour—probably female. Look at the tonal variation in that charcoal! It is almost sculptural. And think of the production—from charcoal making to paper milling! Curator: True. The way the light catches the folds of her shawl gives a sense of vulnerability, but also there is the stoicism. I keep wondering what her life was like? What kind of hands did she have? Editor: Agreed. Look closely—there's a directness in this work, a simplicity in the materials that speaks volumes about the conditions of its production and Johanna’s own life. And it challenges, in a way, the elevated status sometimes given to painting. Curator: That’s true; maybe there is a raw honesty in that simplicity, a refusal to hide behind decorative flourishes. Makes it all the more human, doesn’t it? Editor: I see how the unpretentious materiality really allows us to see this portrait for what it is, but beyond its aesthetic appeal, "Johanna" makes us think about gendered labour, resources, and the very economics of art. Curator: Thinking about "Johanna," and this moment with her captured, I will keep wondering what it means to look and to see… to truly connect with a soul across time through something as simple as charcoal on paper. Editor: Yes. And by questioning those hierarchies within the art world, maybe we can finally elevate and fully recognize the value of labor involved in the most elemental artforms.