Thorvald Løchen 1918

Edvard Munch made this oil painting of Thorvald Løchen, without stating when, and it feels like a window into a soul. The dominant color is this murky brown, like wet earth, smudged with streaks of yellow and hints of pale blue. I imagine Munch, with his brush loaded, circling Løchen, trying to capture not just his likeness but his essence. What was he thinking as he painted this? The paint is thin, washy, almost like a watercolor, with drips running down the canvas like tears. It gives the whole piece a sense of melancholy. Løchen holds a cigarette, and the smoke seems to echo the swirling brushstrokes around him. It reminds me of other portraits, like those by Whistler, where the subject seems lost in thought, or maybe a Francis Bacon where the subject seems so vulnerable. I love how the act of painting is like having a conversation across time. It’s about embracing the mess, the ambiguity, and the multiple meanings that can emerge.