Bacchus c. 1930s - 1940s

Henk Henriët’s ‘Bacchus’ emerges on paper, rendered in delicate pencil strokes, and it feels like he's conjuring a vision rather than just drawing it. There is something about this kind of drawing which holds a raw, direct connection to the artist’s hand – you can almost feel Henriët shifting his weight, leaning in closer, as he coaxes the form out of the blankness. I imagine him really enjoying getting lost in the details of that grapevine crown, each grape a tiny, thoughtful mark. The smudging around his chubby cheeks gives this god of wine such a sense of volume and character. What's really fascinating is how this piece relates to others throughout art history. I’m thinking of Rubens, for instance; both artists seem to find ways to create forms that feel alive, bulging with life and feeling. Artists are always looking back, riffing off each other, aren't they? Each one adds their own spin, seeing the world anew. And that’s how art keeps going, always changing, always in conversation.