Brief aan Jenneke 't Hart-Heyner 1918

This letter by Philip Zilcken, whose date is unknown, is written in blue ink on paper, and it's got this wonderful immediacy, like he just grabbed a pen and went for it. Look at the way the words flow across the page, some darker, some lighter, as if he’s pressing harder or softer, speeding up or slowing down, feeling the words as they come out of him. You can almost see him thinking, hesitating, then diving back in. The ink is thick in some places, thin in others. It’s a physical thing, this writing, like a dance between hand and thought. I imagine him sitting at his desk, maybe late at night, the only light on the paper, just pouring his heart out. He’s using the writing almost like he’s thinking – I do that sometimes, I think, let's start with one word and see where it leads…you can see how the lines of the script pull you through. It reminds me a little of Cy Twombly, that sense of mark-making as a form of thinking, but with words instead of paint. It's like Zilcken is in conversation with himself, working through something. Artists have always been in conversation with each other, even across time. There’s a freedom in that, a kind of permission to experiment and explore, to let the work take you where it wants to go.