Brakende man in bed 1629

Editor: Here we have Crispijn van den Queborn's "Brakende man in bed," from 1629, currently held at the Rijksmuseum. It's rendered with pen and ink on toned paper. My first thought is: yikes, what a scene! It’s so chaotic, everyone is in various states of distress. What strikes you when you look at this, in all its… vibrancy? Curator: Vibrancy is certainly one way to put it! For me, this drawing conjures up a sense of humanity stripped bare. Look at the exposed anguish and vulnerability of the sick man. It is unpleasant, undeniably, and raw. But perhaps, the artist is not making a moral judgement but attempting to render a universal, albeit gross, aspect of the human condition. Does the drawing perhaps ask us, aren't we all, at our most helpless moments, equally exposed? Editor: That’s an interesting point. I was so focused on the kind of comical melodrama that I didn’t really think about the universality of sickness and suffering. Is there anything about the setting, the room itself, that adds to this idea? Curator: Absolutely. The collection of artworks hanging on the walls feels significant, almost as though culture and refinement are rendered helpless in the face of physical wretchedness. Even those sculptures peeking from the doorway appear powerless in the face of it all! Do you think it's the artist's way of poking fun at the stuffy norms of the time, laying bare the messy truth that exists behind closed doors? Editor: Definitely a possibility! It adds another layer to the discomfort, that contrast. I initially just saw it as a funny, albeit disturbing, little sketch, but now I’m seeing a far more complicated, even profound, picture. Curator: Precisely! Sometimes the greatest insights spring from the most unexpected and, dare I say, vomitous places. It's a good reminder that discomfort can be a powerful lens.