Annotaties 1880

Curator: So, here we have "Annotaties," a page from a sketchbook by Louis Apol, created in 1880. It’s a peek into the artist’s world, rendered with pencil and ink on paper. Editor: It feels incredibly intimate, doesn't it? Like stumbling upon someone's private thoughts laid bare. The aged paper whispers of stories untold, doesn’t it? Curator: Exactly. The composition is deceptively simple, all these hand-written notes scattered across the page. There’s an immediacy to the strokes that really speaks to Apol’s artistic process, and this little doodle at the bottom. It grounds everything. Editor: Visually, it's a study in contrasts. The delicate, almost fragile lettering battles for space with that bolder, more assertive signature or monogram—a perfect reflection of inner dialogues perhaps? I like that the “MVS” indicates a cataloging. Curator: I see the "MVS" is an identifier. This also marks it clearly as being part of a larger whole, snipped, almost against its will, away from that purpose as it’s placed in a museum today. What do you think Apol was annotating exactly? Editor: It's unclear what the annotations are. The text is almost indecipherable, some proper names among the notes, perhaps the inscription "1880" as a temporal anchoring, or a type of fleeting meditation—or did they belong to some sort of painting exercise. What matters most is the tangible texture, with all those ghostly shadows hinting at its rich history. Curator: Indeed. And those aren’t just notes—they’re a form of self-expression, even artistic in their own right! Consider this hand-lettering! I think that we should all consider hand-written lettering, notes, or marginalia as artifacts in their own right. Editor: And seeing this work reminds us that behind every grand painting there are volumes and volumes of drafts, lists and thoughts and things that are not only never meant to be seen, but are nonetheless the most genuine representations of their soul. Curator: Right you are. It's almost comforting. Editor: Comforting because, like the very medium, we’re constantly inscribing the narrative of our lives with every single sketch and note, with our inner selves as the permanent exhibit.