Uglspils testamente 1885

Editor: So, here we have Carl Peter Theodor Rothweiler’s “Uglspils testamente,” made in 1885. It’s a woodcut print that, at first glance, gives me this sort of grim, medieval feeling. What story do you think Rothweiler is trying to tell us? Curator: Ah, yes! It's like a dark fairytale, isn't it? The cross-hatching gives it a wonderfully macabre, yet humorous edge. See how the monk’s expression is so… earnestly pious as he seems to bargain with a man on his deathbed. And the sick man, with his theatrical upward point… is he confessing? Negotiating? What do you imagine is happening between them? Editor: I imagine that, perhaps, it is about morality. I mean, I don't know... he could be trying to sell his soul. What do you think Rothweiler intended? Curator: Intention is a slippery fish! But to me, Rothweiler's showing us a common human struggle. We see ourselves reflected in that bargaining – perhaps laughing nervously, or wincing in recognition of the choices people make, knowing it's futile. Like a shadow puppet play, its simplicity belies its depth. What resonates most with you? Editor: The way the monk is presented so devoutly – almost ironically so. Like he's profiting off this guy’s misfortune. I hadn't even thought of it that way, though. Curator: It’s fascinating how one simple scene can invite such varied stories. Rothweiler gives us a little prompt and lets our imaginations run wild! Editor: Yeah, and the starkness really brings out the subtle character quirks! It really emphasizes the themes of narrative in simple illustration.