Heinrich Campendonk made this woodcut, "Man with a Cat on his Lap," in 1918. It's all about the graphic punch of black and white, and the marks feel so direct, like he attacked the wood with real gusto. Look at the man's face; it's a web of raw cuts, almost like a topographical map of anxiety. The cat, cradled in his arms, looks equally bewildered by the world. The contrast is stark – the white is almost violently bright against the heavy black. There is a frenzy of marks to describe the background; chaotic textures that almost vibrate behind the man and his furry companion. I can almost feel the artist digging into the block, each gouge and slice revealing a raw, unvarnished emotion. It has the same kind of restless energy I see in some of Kirchner's street scenes. Both artists tap into something deeply human, messy, and unresolved. In the end, it's this very ambiguity that keeps me coming back.