Zeedonderpad

Curator: Isn't this such a charming find? The Rijksmuseum holds this captivating watercolour drawing by Johannes le Francq van Berkhey, likely from 1750-1753. It's titled "Zeedonderpad," a rather wonderful Dutch name for a sea scorpion. Editor: Sea scorpion? My first impression is... melancholy. It lies there, so still, its colours muted, its shadow a heavy reminder of mortality. I feel sadness, a sense of being stranded. Curator: Absolutely, there’s an undeniable stillness. But look at the detail he achieves with the watercolour! Every scale seems accounted for. Those almost cartoonish eyes peering out... What do they signify to you? Editor: To me, the eyes are like two staring suns, trapped in a grotesque puppet. The symbol of nature's cold, impartial gaze – a universe where tiny creatures are brought into and removed from existence, unnoticed, unmourned. Perhaps the drawing acts as a "memento mori" reflecting that ephemeral connection between life and nothingness? Curator: Memento mori is certainly applicable! Given Berkhey's keen interest in the natural sciences, I imagine his intent went beyond mere vanitas. Do you find echoes of that scientific observation clashing with its symbolic potential? Editor: In that moment it's both observation and interpretation. Each black spot has meaning that needs untangling: shadow, predator, or a code revealing something about our inner lives. When artists attempt nature, a piece of themself must invariably bleed onto the canvas. Curator: Beautifully said! There’s an empathy evident here. An acknowledgment that even this humble sea scorpion possesses an inherent dignity. Its visual symbol now resonates deeper having looked at the eyes. Editor: So, through this fish, Le Francq van Berkhey reveals nature as neither sentimental nor vicious but a kind of endless riddle, something in which he, and we, are forever immersed, never truly deciphering it. I'll remember its gaze.