Matthijs van Boxsel, the Dutch writer known for his Encyclopedia of Stupidity, sits holding a wooden mask or mannequin head with closed eyes. He wears a dark suit, a striped shirt, a handkerchief in his breast pocket. On his wrist, a watch. To his right, a white column with a metal base holds a book: the cover reads ‘DE ENCYCLOPEDIE VAN DE DOMHEID’, ‘DEEL I’, ‘Inleiding’. Below the text, a small image of a similar mask.

The portrait is straightforward: the writer, his book, a mask. But the mask isn’t just a prop; it’s held like an object of study or a companion. Its eyes are closed; his gaze is fixed on it. The book stands apart, on a column, elevated. The background is plain, light, without details.

This is from the Bajazzo years, when theatricality and staged scenes were common. Here the staging is minimal but deliberate. The mask introduces an element of artifice, of the uncanny. Van Boxsel’s work deals with stupidity, ‘pataphysics’, the absurd. The mask could be a symbol of that—the dummy, the fool, the closed eyes. But the photograph doesn’t explain. It just presents the pairing: the writer, the mask, the book.

What works is the simplicity. The composition feels almost schematic: man, mask, book on column. The light background isolates them. There’s no attempt to create a narrative; the elements just coexist. The tension is between the serious suit and the playful mask, between the intellectual project (the encyclopedia) and the physical object (the wooden head).

For a writer who explores stupidity as a method, the portrait feels appropriately ambiguous. It doesn’t try to be clever. It just shows him with his tools.