The Feast of Belshazzar 1697 - 1732

Editor: Here we have Antonio Gionima’s "The Feast of Belshazzar," created between 1697 and 1732. It's rendered with pen, ink, and wash – quite a sepia-toned spectacle. It's at the Met in New York. It's chaotic, definitely! And...a bit unsettling, I guess? I’m wondering, what catches your eye in this scene? Curator: The immediacy, certainly. It’s as if Gionima wants us right *there*, experiencing the opulence, the dread hanging heavy in the air. The inscription on the wall looms large, practically shouting off the paper! Editor: It really does jump out! How does the scene tie into the story it depicts? Curator: Well, Belshazzar used sacred objects from the Jewish temple for his party, an act of blatant disrespect. That writing? Divine judgment. The feast becomes a precursor to his downfall. You can see the king's regal crown—his pompous look—quickly morphing into one of horror and impending doom. I also note the baroque swirl of fabrics, their dynamic curves, almost like flames licking at the edges of order. Notice how everything's tilting? Instability is so much on display. Editor: Yes, I can see the faces turning as they grasp something bad is about to unfold. What do you take away from such dramatic interpretations of historic narratives? Curator: Think about how stories – the way they are visualized or shared – offer cultural codes and warnings for audiences to reflect upon, be it in the past or today. Now what does *that* thought conjure up for you? Editor: I can see now the story itself is timeless. Power, consequences – all there, etched in ink. Gives you goosebumps, really. Curator: Goosebumps indeed! A sign we’ve connected with something deeply resonant. A win for art!