Schutting met een deur op een achterplaats c. 1840 - 1843

Editor: Here we have Sybrand Altmann’s pencil drawing, "Schutting met een deur op een achterplaats", created sometime between 1840 and 1843. The first impression is one of hidden worlds and unseen stories. What draws your eye when you look at this work? Curator: It's interesting how Altmann uses such simple lines to evoke a sense of depth and history. For me, it’s the doorway. A doorway, you see, is always a potent symbol. What does it mean in this context, do you think? What sort of passage does it signify? Editor: Maybe the transition from public to private, or from the known to the unknown? I’m intrigued by how much is left unsaid in the sketch, like a secret glimpse into 19th century life. Curator: Precisely! Consider the symbolism of the barrier itself. Fences, walls…they delineate space, defining ‘us’ and ‘them.’ The gate, slightly ajar, invites a crossing of boundaries, but hesitantly. Do you see the implication of liminal space, the threshold? It suggests both exclusion and possibility, depending on the cultural lens. Editor: I never thought of a fence having so much to say! Looking again, the stark white space on the right compared to the textured detail of the shed makes the boundary even more striking. It is all about the symbolism embedded in our everyday structures. Curator: Absolutely. Everyday structures often unconsciously represent broader power dynamics within a community, even an entire society! Think about how different materials are used to signal different social stratifications: What memories and traditions are attached to a simple wooden fence versus, say, a tall brick wall? It also begs the question what kind of continuity our familiar views, places and memories bring across time and how they transform. Editor: I hadn’t considered the drawing on that deeper, societal level before. This really makes me appreciate the rich layering embedded in what seems, on the surface, like just a humble backyard scene. Curator: Indeed. This work shows that even in what might seem a simple backyard scene there lies many more stories of how memory persists through even the most mundane objects.