Twee aanzichten van een schedel before 1881

Curator: So, here we have "Twee aanzichten van een schedel" or "Two views of a skull," an intriguing drawing made with graphite on paper. It resides here at the Rijksmuseum and dates back to before 1881. The artist... well, that's a mystery; it's attributed to Anonymous. Editor: It has such a melancholy air about it. The grey graphite gives it a ghostly feel, like a faded memory. There's a real stillness to it, yet the skull itself, or should I say, skulls, hold such dynamic shapes. It’s oddly beautiful. Curator: Precisely. Note how the anonymous artist uses light and shadow to give volume and form to something inherently empty. You might also want to look at how they’ve approached the representation. We have a side profile on top, which allows you to focus on the contours and structure, juxtaposed with a full frontal view where the empty eye sockets and nasal cavity confront you directly. Editor: Absolutely, I was just thinking that. The frontal view is unnerving; you can’t escape its gaze. It’s fascinating to me how the side view is almost peaceful, a clinical study. But the frontal one, bearing the name 'ERNST', is… judging? Is that even the right word? Curator: No, it's right! There’s something particularly unsettling given that it's inscribed with the label underneath: "crâne de Ernst, assassin Bruxellois,"—"skull of Ernst, Brussels assassin." Editor: Whoa. So, the anonymity of the artist clashes violently with the very clear identity of the skull's original owner. That really throws me for a loop. Knowing that darkness lingers in the lines—suddenly I see it in the tilted head, the asymmetry of the eye sockets... Curator: And consider that skull was produced for, likely, some kind of scientific examination. But seeing those dark and careful lines tracing bone, teeth, mortality--it’s an odd convergence of science, death, and this man’s crime. It’s not just looking; it's examining, analyzing… judging, just as you said. Editor: You’re right, of course. It all makes one ponder. Death stripped of dignity; a grim scientific specimen; immortalized forever by graphite and paper, preserved to satisfy our odd curiosity centuries later. Curator: And to the unknown artist, thank you. Even after so many years, your artistic decisions bring it to life—even if it is to embody the silent testament of death.