Portret van de schilder Jacob Denys 1650 - 1694

Editor: This is a portrait of the painter Jacob Denys, made sometime between 1650 and 1694 by Richard Collin. It’s an engraving at the Rijksmuseum, and immediately what strikes me is the intensity of the gaze and the detail of the hair, practically leaping off the page despite the print medium. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Oh, this chap! Well, it's all in the dance of the lines for me. Look closely; see how Collin uses this network, this delicate spiderweb of lines to suggest volume, light, even character? It's a testament to the Baroque obsession with capturing…*life*, in every curl and shadow. Makes you wonder, doesn't it, what stories this fella could tell, immortalized like this? What was his temperament, what colors swirled in his soul? Do you ever try to see past what is represented to what might be inferred from the strokes? Editor: I do try! But it's difficult, because sometimes I see so much of what *I'm* projecting onto it, you know? Like, I initially felt like the intensity was almost stern, but perhaps that's my reading and not necessarily Richard Collin's intention, or Jacob Denys' actual personality. Curator: Precisely! And isn’t that glorious? This delicate balancing act we engage in when encountering art? Collin gives us the keys, perhaps, but the door... ah, *that's* the adventure we each must undertake. I am struck, too, by the way Collin rendered the fabric. Do you think he, too, was a painter like Denys? It takes an eye, doesn’t it? Editor: I'm not sure! But that's interesting to consider the possibility of the shared perspective in their gaze. Now I want to dive deeper into Collin's life. Thanks so much for pointing that out. Curator: My pleasure. Never stop chasing those lines, friend. You never know what marvelous corridors they'll lead you down!