Twee studies voor een aanzwevende God de Vader, boven elkaar 1664 - 1666

Editor: Here we have "Two Studies for a Hovering God the Father, One Above the Other," a pencil drawing from around 1664-1666, created by Guglielmo Cortese. I’m struck by its... vulnerability, I guess? It feels less like a grand pronouncement of divinity and more like a peek into the artist’s process. What catches your eye? Curator: Vulnerability is a fascinating read! To me, these aren't just studies of *a* God, but studies of *an* artist reaching, fumbling, almost wrestling with an idea of the divine. Look at the tentative lines, the red chalk almost blushing across the page. Don’t you feel like you're witnessing a very personal meditation? Almost as if we found his personal sketchbook. Editor: Definitely! It's not the triumphant God you usually see in Baroque art. These feel like works in progress. Curator: Exactly! Cortese is almost letting us into his mind, right? You get the sense he is grappling with portraying power, perhaps even the *idea* of power and grace, in a very human form. Almost as if God himself is a fleeting thing; here one moment and... sketched-away the next. Editor: It’s funny how unfinished it feels and yet, the emotion, the intention comes through so clearly. Almost raw in a way. Curator: Raw! Yes, absolutely. And the roughness becomes the point! It makes the ethereal, well… tangible. That tension—between aspiration and execution— is really the heart of Baroque spirit, wouldn’t you say? What does a ‘finished’ God look like, anyway? Maybe it's not about completion but the searching. Editor: I hadn't thought of it like that, but you’re right. It’s more about the journey, about striving to capture something so immense. Thanks, that’s given me a whole new perspective on sketch. Curator: And me too! Thank you for seeing in sketch that deeply human quality that is there! The ‘searching’. Art has to change both the viewer and the artist, or it fails, in my humble opinion.