Horseman – II 1916

Here's an artwork by Lovis Corinth, called Horseman – II. It looks like he's used etching to create a pale and fleeting scene. I can imagine him hunched over a plate, scratching at it with a needle to create these tiny, wiry lines. The horse and rider loom out of the blankness, emerging from the ground upwards. Is it me, or is it slightly unnerving? It's not quite right, is it? It reminds me a little of those early Muybridge photographs of horses running, trying to capture movement, but only hinting at reality. I feel like Corinth is wrestling with something here. You can sense his intensity, his searching—maybe for form, maybe for some kind of truth about the relationship between humans and animals. Artists are always in dialogue with each other, trying things out, failing, starting again. And that's what makes art so exciting, don't you think?