Madonna & Child in Vesica 1918

Curator: Eric Gill, that naughty stone carver, made this wood engraving, "Madonna & Child in Vesica," a teeny tiny jewel held here at the Tate. Editor: My first thought: confinement. The stark black and white, the tight oval shape... it feels almost oppressive, despite the supposed tenderness of the subject. Curator: Oppressive? Oh, I see it differently! Those radiating lines bursting from behind the child—they sing of the miraculous, a pure, divine energy. The vesica, that almond shape, it's a womb, a gateway! Editor: A gateway perhaps, but one framed by rigid dogma. Gill’s Catholicism and his... other proclivities... they complicate any simple reading of maternal love here. The letters, the J's, M, and D, hint at a specific devotion. Curator: Ah, you wound me with your cynicism! Though, yes, context is everything, isn't it? Still, I can't help but feel a spark of genuine awe when I look at the crispness, the surety of line in this little thing. Editor: And that tension, that's what makes it compelling. The struggle between piety and, well, the other stuff that made Gill, Gill. It’s a tightrope walk in ink. Curator: Always a tightrope, darling, always. Editor: Indeed. An ever-unfolding story, forever embedded in the wood.