Knielende man 1659 - 1711

Curator: Look at this print. It's titled "Knielende man," or "Kneeling Man," created sometime between 1659 and 1711. The artist is Augustinus Terwesten, working with engraving techniques. It resides here in the Rijksmuseum. What do you make of him? Editor: My initial feeling? He looks defeated. The weight of the world practically forcing him down. The pose, that stoop – it's all incredibly evocative of despair or maybe deep introspection. I'm curious, though, is this sorrow, guilt, or something else entirely? Curator: Given the period, I’d suggest we should consider classical antecedents. Figures like this populate baroque allegories; perhaps Terwesten intends to convey remorse or humility within a religious context. The muscularity could align him to mythical figures as well. We shouldn't dismiss the power of well-trodden themes in imbuing imagery with depth. Editor: Ah, true. The artistic language of the time relied so much on shared knowledge. Still, look at how his hands are clasped – almost obscuring his face. He could be a philosopher struggling with a particularly nasty syllogism. Or perhaps an artist wrestling with an unsolvable idea. I imagine it being more about personal struggle, in spite of all the symbolic implications. Curator: He really draws the eye with the detailed hatching of the light, which beautifully emphasizes his back muscles and contours of his legs. Editor: The linework does an excellent job emphasizing the man’s humanity even if the intended meaning remains a bit inscrutable. What affects me most is how much is hidden. Maybe that space for projection, for empathy, is the work’s ultimate power. Curator: Perhaps the very act of kneeling transcends time, symbolizing humility, prayer, defeat…it becomes a blank slate where the viewer projects his understanding of it all.