A Winged Skeleton Holding an Anatomical Drawing 1779

Editor: This is “A Winged Skeleton Holding an Anatomical Drawing” by Jacques Gamelin, from 1779. It appears to be a print of a pencil drawing. There’s a striking contrast between the winged skeleton and the anatomical drawing, a memento mori right there in the studio. What do you make of this rather peculiar piece? Curator: Peculiar is just the word! The memento mori was practically its own genre then. Death wasn't something neatly tucked away. Here, Gamelin isn’t just reminding us of mortality; he’s got Death itself studying human anatomy, as though seeking some final secret. What I find arresting is the casualness of it. The winged skeleton perched amidst artistic paraphernalia, like some jaded art critic. Do you see the hourglass on the table, as a measure of time, next to a collection of body parts casually scattered on the floor? It gives Death a learned sensibility, if Death could be learned… which I think he can be, if we only try. Editor: That’s a compelling point – this isn’t just a grim reminder but a… critique? The skeleton examining art supplies suggests some kind of meta-commentary. Is Gamelin maybe poking fun at academic art, hinting at its ultimate futility in the face of death? Curator: Exactly! The wings could symbolize ambition, aspiring to transcendence, yet grounded in the very tangible, decaying human form. What good is ambition if death renders it all moot? Gamelin presents this stark question through dark humour. Isn’t it amusingly dark that a drawing is literally more flesh-like than the human form?! Perhaps death is merely the freedom from flesh. The human experience distilled to it’s purest creative, cognitive moment! Or, maybe he just liked skeletons, what do I know? Editor: A rather thought-provoking dance with mortality and artistry. I appreciate the lens of dark humour – it really shifts the way I see it. Curator: Absolutely. It's a macabre giggle in the face of the inevitable. And in art, isn't that sometimes the best medicine?