We propose to associate our painting with the corpus of the work of Albert Hertel. A Berlin painter, Hertel established himself as one of the sensitive figures of German Realism at the turn of the century. A student at the Berlin Academy of Fine Arts, he developed at an early stage a taste for visual storytelling and for a naturalism attentive to the nuances of everyday life. His long stays in Rome and the light he discovered there left a lasting imprint on his palette. Upon returning to his native city, he exhibited regularly at the Salon, where the public appreciated the warmth of his atmospheres and the quiet delicacy of his painting.
During the nineteenth century, fox hunting occupied a singular place: it was both a favored pictorial subject and a powerful marker of social distinction. Artists were drawn to it for its worldly aesthetic, its energy, its movement, and the codified elegance of a practice deeply rooted in European traditions. More than a simple aristocratic pastime, it became a true spectacle. Painters and engravers depicted animals and hunting parties according to precise conventions, staging the technical mastery of the huntsmen and the prestige they enjoyed.
In the work presented here, the painter does not depict a hunting scene in motion, but focuses instead on the figure of a huntsman, a member of the hunting party. Seated at the edge of the forest, he raises his horn to his lips, perhaps to announce a pause or to signal his halt. The young huntsman is shown in three-quarter view, blowing into a hunting horn whose circular form elegantly prolongs the curve of his gesture. His attire, inspired by the dress worn in German, English, and French hunts, consists of a fitted red woolen coat; his hair is held back by a black satin bow.
On the left side of the composition, the silhouette of a dog emerges, reinforcing the hunting character of the scene. Calmly seated beside its master, its gaze turned to the left as if alerted by something beyond the frame, it evokes fidelity and the deep bond uniting man and animal.
Around the figure, the painter chooses to give a prominent place to vegetation, rendered with free and rapid brushstrokes. The swirling movements of the brush suggest the passing wind, trembling leaves, and the coolness of a hunting morning. Rooted in the naturalist tradition of the late nineteenth century, he envelops the brilliant red of the coat—now the visual center of the composition—in a palette of muted tones, oscillating between browns, greens, and grays. This chromatic contrast gives the huntsman a dominant presence, as if carrying a sound that spreads through space.
Everything suggests that the work was painted en plein air: without artifice, the artist seems to have transcribed directly what he observed, faithful to a practice grounded in the immediate study of nature. He thus appears to have sought to capture a suspended, almost musical moment, in which the forest holds its breath to listen to the call of the horn. Through the interplay of sensations—hearing, sight, touch, and even the scent of the undergrowth suggested by the density of the paint—this painting engages and awakens the viewer’s senses.
The treatment of the sky, light and misty, suggests a diffuse light, perhaps that of dawn or a calm twilight. The whole evokes a scene captured on the spot, in which the artist favors energy, spontaneity, and sensation over meticulous detail. Everything in this painting invites contemplation: the solitude of the hunter, the poetry of the gesture, the softness of the landscape, and the distant murmur of the hunt beginning to unfold.
