The South African Medal, Issued for the Campaigns of 1877–79 1879

Curator: Here we have "The South African Medal, Issued for the Campaigns of 1877–79", an engraving in bronze by William Wyon. It's currently held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What are your first thoughts? Editor: It’s strikingly cold, somehow. Even though it’s bronze, there’s something very impersonal and austere about it, like a frozen queen. The detail is incredible, but it feels removed from any warmth. Curator: It’s a portrait, but certainly not one of endearment, I feel! One can admire the fineness of the engraving. But let's consider the metal, the means by which this recognition and subsequent hierarchy is cast—bronze isn’t cheap, is it? Editor: Absolutely. The choice of bronze elevates it beyond something disposable, reinforcing its value, the implied value of the campaign, and, naturally, of Victoria herself. This isn't just a trinket; it’s a symbol steeped in political and economic significance, made to last and signal authority. Curator: The inscription and date function not just as identifiers but as anchors to the specific campaigns, marking this bronze creation with an undeniable claim. It whispers tales of imperial ambition, and of a past that can make us rather queasy. I suppose objects like this force a reconciliation of sorts, between beauty and discomfort. Editor: Yes, it becomes less about aesthetics, and more about understanding what such material rewards stood for, for whom, and at whose cost. It’s a very physical representation of colonial power relations, condensed into a medal. I feel like there's so much of that period packed into a small piece. Curator: Indeed. It is a perfect paradox of sorts. Intended, one imagines, to unite through national pride, it’s now a potent reminder of division, which for me highlights the crucial dialogue between its intricate design, and historical weight. It invites the sort of deeper thinking art should really provoke. Editor: I agree; it is unsettling how art and design so gracefully masks something more complicated. This shines a light, so we can acknowledge the intricacies and perhaps see more honestly.