Blank 1864 - 1941

Curator: Ah, yes, Niels Larsen Stevns’ “Blank,” dated from 1864 to 1941, housed here at the SMK. A drawing on paper, quite minimalist, wouldn’t you say? Editor: My immediate reaction? It’s pregnant with potential. Like gazing at a clear sky, or… the hush before a revolution. I can almost smell the dust of unbound possibility! Curator: That’s beautiful, unbound possibility, I love that. But look closely at the colouration, that faint creamy hue. I think that suggests the passing of time, an aged canvas just waiting for something, or perhaps having once held everything. It teases you. Editor: True, the staining along the edges hints at lived experience—almost archaeological in its layered unveiling. Perhaps it challenges the concept of a blank slate. Can anything truly be “blank” in a world saturated with pre-existing meanings, biases, power structures? Curator: Ooh, that gives it weight! What does an absence of the artist's marks become in a museum context, right? Because a sketchbook isn’t just paper, it's also about this anticipation that something significant will happen. Like being backstage before the curtain rises. It's almost a performance itself. Editor: Absolutely! Consider the very materials—paper, coloured pencil. Everyday instruments rendered monumental in their… withholding. The artist’s implied absence is powerfully present. Stevns offers, ironically, the opportunity to project our anxieties, our yearnings, our radical imaginings. Is it just that? A container for us to inscribe upon? Curator: Yes! Which perhaps explains why it holds a strange sort of fascination for me, despite its… well, blankness. We are so used to seeing artists’ statements fully realised. It asks what is, when do you need something more? It's delightfully incomplete. It also shows process. What’s around this paper mattered as it sat in studio, even though unseen here. Editor: A quiet refusal, then, of easy answers. A brave opening for radical co-creation! This "Blank" resonates across centuries—a provocative invitation. And the very display of this book is important. We acknowledge here artistic failure but still find beauty within. Curator: Exactly, exactly! It's like Stevns is saying, "Okay, your turn.” And for an activist voice to have a moment, to project. I think it might actually become a favorite of mine now, because of your thoughts. Editor: A perfect dialogue, then, launched from… emptiness. I'll take it! Thank you, it changed my views also.