The scribe 

Editor: We’re looking at Vincenzo Migliaro’s “The Scribe,” an oil painting that gives a glimpse into 19th-century life. The colors feel muted, like a photograph faded with time. What strikes you most when you look at it? Curator: What strikes me… Well, it's funny, isn’t it? Scribes were, essentially, the coders of their day, painstakingly translating ideas into reality. Here, though, it feels less about information and more about connection, doesn’t it? Note how they're clustered together, heads bent close over that script, framed by the bustle just outside, but entirely separate from it. Are they exchanging news, family secrets, or simple daily chatter? It reminds me how reading together creates a space—a tiny universe built on shared words and breath. Editor: I never thought about it that way! So, it’s less about the document and more about the human interaction? Curator: Precisely! What if it is more the mood in the place, a theater of gesture and intimate dialogue within the crowded market of that day. Migliaro captures the quiet intensity within the clamor. It's wonderfully humane, don’t you think? Editor: It completely reframes my perception. I came expecting historical documentation but found an invitation to observe a private, almost secretive moment. Thank you for helping me see that! Curator: My pleasure. Perhaps art, like a good scribe, invites us to rewrite our initial interpretations.