Twee naakte vrouwen en drie vissen 1891 - 1941

Curator: Looking at "Two Nude Women and Three Fish" by Leo Gestel, created sometime between 1891 and 1941 and rendered in ink... the first thing I notice is... a sense of disquiet, a dreaminess, a floating uncertainty. Editor: It’s definitely a piece that hinges on line and form, the rapid ink strokes create a ghostly, ethereal presence for figures who are, ostensibly, very material—nudes. You really see Gestel's modernist leaning here. But look closely at how thin the paper looks. Almost like newsprint. What kind of accessibility was he considering through the raw choice of his ground? Curator: I love that observation. To me, there’s something beautifully unfinished, raw, almost like catching a glimpse into the artist's thought process itself. Are the women figures of pleasure, playfulness, or something darker, perhaps caught mid-transformation like figures from mythology? The fishes swim through, partaking in a silent choreography. It whispers of stories untold. Editor: Absolutely, and those raw, thin lines also mean faster production, cheaper materials. Gestel might be nodding to classical nudes while simultaneously democratizing the means of seeing and perhaps owning an image like this. Is it about pure artistic expression, or about Gestel responding to changes in print culture and labor? Curator: It makes me think that this drawing is also inviting us into this very discussion. By refusing a finished surface or solid figures, Gestel forces our imaginative completion. Editor: Exactly. So it makes me wonder who and how many were actually in the audience for art like this? Did a market exist, ready for relatively cheaply produced prints depicting nude female figures? Did it influence the choices of ink, paper, production? Or does such materiality compromise an emotional and more personalized interpretation? Curator: Perhaps both truths co-exist, shaping and informing one another! I’ll be dreaming of floating fish tonight, I suspect. Editor: Me too. Gestel leaves me wondering whether high art must involve luxury and refinement, or can it speak as powerfully when stripped down to ink and paper.