Holger Drachmann 1994

This is Edvard Munch’s portrait of Holger Drachmann. It’s all scratchy lines of black ink that play against the warm, fleshy-peach paper. I can imagine Munch, staring intensely at Drachmann, feeling the weight of his gaze. The marks are so alive, so full of energy, you can almost feel him jiggling with nerves, trying to capture not just what he sees but what he *feels*. The nervous energy is so palpable, it reminds me of the early, anxious work of Philip Guston. Look at those lines around Drachmann’s head, not quite smoke but something that evokes a sense of atmosphere, a psychological aura. You know, it's like Munch is thinking out loud with every stroke, each line a question rather than an answer. And maybe that’s what makes it so compelling: we’re not just seeing Drachmann; we’re seeing Munch’s mind at work, grappling with the enigma of another person. The conversation between artists, you know, it never really ends.