Street in Königsberg 1918

Editor: Lovis Corinth's 1918 ink drawing, "Street in Königsberg," plunges us into a steeply-angled cityscape. I'm struck by how chaotic it feels, like the buildings are about to slide right off the page. It definitely has a dramatic tension to it. What draws your eye when you look at this piece? Curator: It is dramatic, isn’t it? Like a charcoal tempest brewing right before your eyes! What grips me is the stark honesty in Corinth's depiction. He wasn’t trying to pretty things up. Look at how the ink bleeds and spatters. It echoes the turmoil of the era, that immediate post-war period. Do you see any kind of emotional urgency there? Editor: I can see that in the messy, almost frantic lines. I hadn’t really connected that feeling to the historical context before. So, it’s not just a street, it's a street filled with a kind of angst? Curator: Exactly! The street becomes a metaphor, a pathway leading into an uncertain future. I feel like Corinth used Königsberg, his birthplace, to exorcise demons through art-making; there’s no tranquility here, unlike Canaletto, say. It's visceral; he is almost gouging at the paper. He lays bare the bones of the city. I would love to think he was singing that city’s sorrow with charcoal. Can you almost hear the choir of lost souls humming around you? Editor: That is fascinating! Now, I see so much more. I guess the drawing embodies Corinth’s emotional landscape, but also echoes this transformative moment in time, as he channels the anxiety and grief around him. Thanks! Curator: And thank you for that astute insight, truly delightful! Keep those discerning eyes focused – and those wonderfully empathic ears attuned. You'll unearth worlds.