Self-portrait in a velvet cap with plume 1770 - 1803

Curator: Looking at this small but powerful engraving, I’m immediately struck by the intricate detail— almost a whisper of a past world— brought to life through very fine lines. Editor: Indeed. This is the “Self-portrait in a velvet cap with plume,” made sometime between 1770 and 1803. What's particularly striking is how the artist, Constantino Cumano, leverages the medium of etching and engraving to really explore both light and the psychological depth. What feelings emerge for you? Curator: You know, I think of old photographs fading— but in a gentle, comforting way. It is wistful. There’s this air of someone looking inward, a gentle melancholy about it, softened by the luxuriousness of the velvet. It is like gazing through a haze of memories, rich but elusive. Editor: Absolutely, the textures in the plume and velvet create that visual and tactile sensation. Formally, consider the composition itself, where Cumano positions his face just off-center. How the contrast, or what the Baroque era might call chiaroscuro, intensifies around the face, emphasizing the weight of the sitter’s gaze. It invites contemplation. Curator: He invites you in and whispers secrets of the past… though you might not quite catch them all. He is hinting at emotions I am unsure to really recognize. Editor: I'd agree. It seems to use external finery not to show power but maybe more the individual vulnerability through careful rendering, asking a question that remains relevant centuries on about how to truly see the self. Curator: This tiny print feels deeply human, immediate, and resonant… a window into a fleeting moment captured in such exquisite detail. Editor: Quite so. An understated treasure that continues to reveal itself, layer by layer, long after the gaze drifts away.