Tumbler c. 18th century

Curator: Here we have an exquisite example of 18th-century glasswork—an engraved tumbler, part of the Minneapolis Institute of Art’s collection, crafted by an unknown artist. Editor: Isn’t it lovely? So delicate. The engraving almost disappears into the glass itself; it makes me think of secrets whispered after a feast. Curator: Exactly. Now, look closer at the way the anonymous artisan layered the textures here. You see a field of circular facets contrasted by the engraved decoration. What’s interesting is that the whole tumbler looks like it might simply vanish depending on the light and its backdrop. Editor: Like liquid turned solid, or maybe a vessel filled with some magic potion. And the engraved scene looks pastoral – birds amongst foliage… such a subtle relief. What could that image signify to its original owner, I wonder? Was it a political statement or pure, unadulterated whimsy? Curator: Given the period, probably closer to whimsy than a Jacobin manifesto hidden in plain sight. Tumblers like these were often made for everyday use in prosperous households; a quiet display of refined taste. Notice also the straight, slightly tapering shape and the heavy base, all meant for stability. Editor: Which feels at odds with the almost ethereal quality the glass gives. Like something precious designed for rough hands! Knowing that someone drank from this adds a certain charge to the object, doesn't it? Makes me think of them clinking it at the table, or the way the light would refract off their drink within it... Curator: Absolutely, these sorts of details draw me in and inform the choices they may have had while engaging with such a daily ritual. We can see here this tension of ephemeral art object meant for an everyday moment. Editor: To think of something so breakable holding something equally ephemeral… it's strangely powerful. Curator: Well, that's the beauty of objects like this Tumbler. Isn't it?