Dr. Edwin Finlay-Freundlich 1918

Curator: Here we have Max Pechstein's woodcut from 1918, a portrait of Dr. Edwin Finlay-Freundlich. Editor: Striking, isn’t it? Almost confrontational with those bold blacks and whites, a sharp study of light and shadow. Makes you feel like you've just interrupted a very intense thought. Curator: Absolutely, that intensity stems from the German Expressionist movement that Pechstein was deeply involved with. It’s not just a depiction; it's an emotional exploration, rendered in the stark medium of woodcut. Consider the process. He carved away at that block, leaving these rough, deliberate marks to define Freundlich's face. Editor: And that starkness works beautifully to emphasize certain features – the nose, the lips. What does it say, using such a brutal, physical medium like a woodcut to capture this… intellectual? Almost a kind of laboring to get at the essence of his sitter. Curator: That's astute. The carving almost mirrors the probing nature of scientific inquiry itself, the way Freundlich, an astronomer, would dissect the cosmos. There’s a beautiful irony in portraying someone who deals with vast concepts using such grounded, tactile means. Editor: Right, thinking about its creation – Pechstein’s labor, the cheapness and availability of the wood, the multiple prints that could be made – pushes against the usual preciousness of portraiture, no? I wonder what Freundlich thought of it. Curator: Unfortunately, the documented response seems lost to time. One can speculate! It would be quite unnerving to see yourself distilled into such potent, graphic form. Caricature, though a portrait nonetheless! Editor: Well, regardless of the sitter's thoughts, looking at it now I’m struck by the sheer force of the thing. The medium seems absolutely perfect for conveying the turbulent emotions of the era, and this man's intellectual gravitas, doesn’t it? Curator: It does indeed. A forceful impression etched forever. Editor: Etched, exactly!