Sketches of Fowl 1813 - 1814

Editor: We're looking at Théodore Géricault's "Sketches of Fowl," made between 1813 and 1814. It’s a light graphite work, almost like a page ripped straight from his personal sketchbook. I find it really charming, a glimpse into his artistic process. What jumps out at you when you look at it? Curator: Well, aren’t we lucky to be peeking into Géricault's notebook? For me, it whispers of curiosity. He’s not aiming for polished perfection; it's about capturing the essence, the life within these birds. Each sketch feels like a fleeting moment, a quick study of movement and form. Did he have chickens in his studio, I wonder? Maybe a slightly bewildered peacock pacing around while he worked? Editor: A bewildered peacock, I love that image! It makes the work feel so alive, not just a clinical study. Curator: Precisely! There's a looseness, an energy. Look at the way he renders the feathers – just a few quick strokes, but you get the sense of their texture and volume. And notice the variety – ducks, turkeys, peacocks… it’s a real menagerie. It reminds us that even the greatest artists start with the fundamentals: observation, practice, and a willingness to experiment. What do you make of that peacock’s haughty stance, or those pensive fowl drinking from the pond? Editor: It does highlight the importance of practice and experimentation. It’s so refreshing to see that even masters weren't afraid to just... sketch. I guess it can feel intimidating sometimes as a student, seeing finished masterpieces. It is also great to know artists were sketching everyday subjects that could turn up in more accomplished compositions later. Curator: Exactly. Next time I see a flock of pigeons I'm going to whip out my own sketchpad – albeit, maybe with slightly less grace than Monsieur Géricault! Thanks for sharing a new perspective today. Editor: Likewise! I’ll definitely think differently about sketchbooks from now on.