Egon Schiele:
Two Proletarian Children (Zwei Proletarierkinder), 1910 Watercolour, charcoal and pencil on paper
43.8 × 30.8 cm
To be auctioned at Sotheby’s | Estimate: £400,000–£600,000 (Kallir d410)

There is a tenderness in Schiele’s early depictions of working-class children—a tenderness that sits right beside the sharpness of his line and the alert way he looked at the world. These two figures stand close together, their bodies leaning slightly inward as if they already know how harsh the world can be. The watercolour is light and quick, letting the paper breathe, while the charcoal gives their outlines a quiet firmness, as though he wanted to hold them still just long enough to truly understand them. Their clothes are simple and worn, the muted colours carrying the tiredness of children who have seen more than they should. Yet, the way he places them side by side brings a small sense of comfort, a closeness that softens the moment. Their faces, drawn with only a few deliberate strokes, show that distinct mix of shyness and directness he so often found in the young. The drawing feels like a brief, meaningful meeting rather than a formal study—a moment caught just before it slipped away.

Schiele was only twenty when he made this sheet, but he was already moving away from Gustav Klimt’s decorative world. His line had become more direct, more honest, and he was beginning to trust the raw reality of what he saw. That summer, he spent time in Krumau (now Český Krumlov), where he often met children who lived with very little. Some of them wandered into his studio entirely on their own, staying for a short while before disappearing again. Paris von Gütersloh later described how these children slipped in and out of the room, sometimes resting on the sofa, sometimes simply passing through, and how Schiele would quietly ask them to freeze when a specific movement caught his attention. Because they wouldn’t sit still, he was pushed to work faster, to rely on his first impression, and to let the drawing stay open and alive.

The two children here sit close, almost leaning into each other. The older girl looks out with a steady, serious gaze, while the younger boy rests back with the loose ease of someone used to waiting. Schiele lets the warm tone of the paper do much of the work, adding only what is necessary: the soft blue of the boy’s shirt, the brown of the girl’s clothing, and small touches of red in their hair. Nothing is dressed up or softened; their presence remains simple, direct, and quietly strong.

Working with restless children helped Schiele discover a more economical approach to drawing. You can see it here in the confident but gentle contours, and in the colour that settles only where it deepens the emotional weight of the scene. There is an unmistakable kindness in the way he looks at them—not sentimental, but deeply attentive, as if he recognised their daily struggle and wanted to meet it with absolute honesty.