Brief aan Philip Zilcken 1873 - 1930

This is Jules Destrée’s letter to Philip Zilcken, and it's pure process, isn’t it? It is literally the residue of thinking and feeling something. I love how the ink bleeds slightly into the paper, not in a messy way, but enough to feel the absorbency of the material, and the time it took to produce. It’s like a dance between intention and accident, the little slip-ups that give the whole thing a life of its own. These traces of handwriting, these ebbs and flows of tone, create a rhythm. The paper itself, toned with age, isn't just a background; it’s part of the story. It makes me think of Cy Twombly, all those scribbles and marks that feel both ancient and totally now. Ultimately, art, like a letter, is a conversation, an exchange of ideas that keeps evolving. There's never a final answer, and that's what makes it so exciting.