Waterfontein op dolfijnvormige poten c. 1655 - 1678

Editor: Here we have "Waterfontein op dolfijnvormige poten," a print by Jean Lepautre dating from about 1655 to 1678, currently housed at the Rijksmuseum. It feels like such an opulent, almost theatrical piece. The fountain itself is incredibly ornate, and the landscape behind it makes me wonder: How do you interpret the way Lepautre combines this sort of grandeur with the naturalistic setting? Curator: Ah, that's a juicy question! For me, the allure here is in the tension—the delicious, almost absurd contrast between the ultra-refined artifice of the fountain and the serene vista beyond. It's like, is this a landscape being 'conquered' by decorative excess, or is the fountain itself somehow softened, grounded, by the natural world peeking through? I like to think about the context too: 17th-century garden design often aimed to showcase mastery over nature, wouldn’t you agree? Editor: I can definitely see that in the framing—it feels very intentional in its artifice. Like we’re meant to be looking at nature, but only through the lens of artistry. Curator: Precisely! And notice those lounging figures at the base? They bring a whole mythological, almost dreamlike quality. Lepautre isn't just showing us a fountain, he's inviting us into a fantasy—a space where the artificial and the natural mingle, challenge, and ultimately enhance each other. Don’t you think it's also somewhat satirical, almost poking fun at such extravagant displays? Editor: Hmm, I hadn’t considered satire, but I see what you mean. Maybe it's both celebratory and a little bit tongue-in-cheek? Curator: Exactly! That's the fun, isn’t it? The work is layered with all the excessiveness from that period. It keeps shifting, like a glittering illusion, refusing to be pinned down to one single meaning. Editor: I guess it reflects our own position then – we’re invited into Lepautre's garden, to appreciate the complexity, but also question it, and perhaps smirk just a little.