Mucius Scaevola 1645 - 1706

Editor: Here we have an engraving entitled "Mucius Scaevola," made sometime between 1645 and 1706. It’s currently residing at the Rijksmuseum. My initial impression is one of dramatic intensity, yet the figure seems somewhat...awkwardly proportioned. What catches your eye when you look at this work? Curator: Awkwardly proportioned? Darling, don’t we all feel that way sometimes, wrestling with the weight of expectation! It is not so much awkwardness that speaks to me, but rather a boldness— a baroque exuberance. It’s like the artist grabbed hold of Roman history, squeezed all the stoicism out, and replaced it with…theatrical muscle! Look at the almost comical dragon perched atop Scaevola's helmet – a far cry from austere Roman ideals, no? To me, it’s less about historical accuracy and more about exploring the sheer drama of self-sacrifice. Editor: The dragon *is* pretty wild. I'm also struck by how exposed and vulnerable he seems despite the sword. The small figures in the background almost make it seem as if he is an actor on a stage in front of them, his own private performance of courage. Curator: A private performance indeed. Perhaps it invites us to consider the nature of courage. Is it inherent or performative? Does true heroism reside in the act itself, or in the witness? Even the very texture, carved in a dance of dark ink lines is evocative, don’t you agree? What stories does that engraving technique whisper to you? Editor: It definitely has a boldness to it. I suppose my eye was stuck on the figure's build, perhaps missing the point that its about so much more. Thinking about it, maybe it mirrors that feeling we all have of wanting to put on a brave face, even when we're scared on the inside. Thanks, I hadn’t considered that it might be intentionally performative. Curator: Oh, aren't we all just pretending to be braver than we are? A thought-provoking piece, isn't it? Perhaps, a little bit like this conversation itself!