Triomf van Christus (eerste deel) c. 1568 - 1629

Curator: The engraving before us, titled *Triumph of Christ* or *Triomf van Christus*, is attributed to Andrea Andreani and dates circa 1568 to 1629. Editor: It looks like a woodcut, maybe even earlier, from the level of detail. So many tiny lines. Curator: Indeed, this medium lends itself to a proliferation of symbolic references. See how the angel hovers overhead, bearing a double cross. The ancestral line seems to follow after her. The faces are deeply felt. The weight, or the burden, of the group, in terms of generational time is supported, physically carried even, by an older figure with a wooden structure—perhaps an ark or a tabernacle—balanced on his shoulder. It seems symbolic of sacrifice. Editor: Absolutely. And that older figure is leaning into the work so deeply, but, also notice the bare feet and rough hewn cloth of their cloaks—they have made it to the "promised land" but still live a subsistence level existence. Even their waist coverings made of twigs and leaves remind us about resourcefulness when nature doesn't readily provide all that you require. It makes you consider what has changed between the supposed glory implied in the name of the engraving—"Triumph of Christ"—and their stark material circumstances in this New Eden? Curator: That is very keenly observed. We can note also that their placement on the landscape implies the fall— the original sin is literally located in the land, on which they walk. There is no longer transcendence. It's embedded in the earth now. I also wonder if their journey has truly ended, or if they remain in progress. I suppose the message here seems that even if a "triumph" has come, people must still endure hardship here. Editor: And think about Andreani creating a complex work that requires such craftmanship—the work of carving each tiny mark into a surface. That labor underscores this very human struggle that they depict so aptly. Curator: A fascinating intersection of divine promise and human realities indeed! Editor: A potent visual lesson from a gifted hand.