Man en engel in intieme houding 1823 - 1873

Curator: What we have here is an engraving, titled "Man en engel in intieme houding," placing its creation somewhere between 1823 and 1873, by Célestin Nanteuil. Editor: Oh, my, it’s awfully sweet, yet somehow… unsettling. The tenderness, those intertwined bodies, and that lush, almost suffocating greenery. Curator: Note the medium, an engraving. Think about the process involved—the deliberate carving into a metal plate, the physical labor, then the printing, and finally, the distribution of this image to an audience likely consuming images quite differently than we do now. It emphasizes accessibility in disseminating idealized figures to broader populations. Editor: Right, there is this sort of cold precision in the detail. Makes me feel removed from what I imagine was an effort to visualize an extremely deep intimacy. Look at the almost photographic rendering of those feet, and yet the figures hover in some ambiguously classical never-never land. Does it work? Or does that little cup near the guy's knee have more vitality, to me anyway? Curator: The figures definitely draw upon familiar allegorical tropes and styles associated with Romanticism. Editor: True! The theatrical lighting, that sort of pained expression…and yes, those wings are firmly situated in a world of symbol. Though in its almost clinical rendering, do you think the print almost ironizes it’s own pursuit of idealized love? Or does that emerge now, retroactively? Curator: I wouldn’t dismiss the skill and intention of Nanteuil to channel emotion—rather, to show what means of reproduction and consumption where readily available at the time. Editor: Still…it's funny, this pursuit of pure, sensual emotion filtered through industrial means… But regardless of irony or intent, the human desire it tries to show is as poignant as ever, no? Curator: I think we can agree this is one of many artistic explorations that remind us of our complicated relationship with love.