This Morning Before the Sun Rise 1839

Curator: Looking at Daumier’s lithograph, "This Morning Before the Sun Rise," one immediately senses the quiet disruption of childhood. Editor: It’s a study in domesticity, but charged. The stark black and white, the almost frantic scribbling of the lithographic crayon—it all contributes to a feeling of slight unease. Curator: Exactly. The intimacy of the scene—parents still in their nightclothes, poring over what appears to be a document with their child—is contrasted by the rather sharp lines and the slightly grotesque features Daumier gives them. Editor: The light source, presumably the candle, isn't just illuminating; it's revealing the etched lines, laying bare the satire. It’s almost Brechtian in its directness. Curator: It makes me wonder, what is this crucial piece of paper? Why does it disturb the morning peace? What do the scribbled words in the lower corners really mean? Editor: Daumier always forces you to ask questions. To scratch beneath the surface of bourgeois life, finding both humor and a good measure of discomfort. Curator: A discomfort that, even without knowing all the answers, remains strangely compelling. Editor: It’s a glimpse into a world not so different from our own, laid bare with a few lines and a lot of feeling.