Interieur van de Sint-Michiels-en-Sint-Goedelekathedraal 1866 - 1870

Curator: My first impression? Ghosts, whispering through the arches, lit by faded light. Editor: Yes, it certainly possesses that evocative quality. We're looking at Jules Hippolyte Quéval’s “Interieur van de Sint-Michiels-en-Sint-Goedelekathedraal,” taken between 1866 and 1870. It’s a gelatin silver print capturing the interior of the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula, and currently residing at the Rijksmuseum. Curator: The space feels so vast and yet incredibly still, doesn't it? Those rows and rows of chairs look deserted, almost expectant. There's something a bit mournful about it, despite the soaring Gothic architecture. Editor: Indeed. Quéval has masterfully used the long exposure times characteristic of early photography to emphasize the cathedral's grandeur, drawing attention to its architectural elements, particularly the soaring arches and ribbed vaults so indicative of the Gothic style. It's a formal, almost scientific, recording. Curator: Scientific, maybe... but for me, the emotion trumps everything. You can almost smell the incense, hear the distant echoes of a choir. I bet the light spilling through those stained-glass windows must have been dazzling. I wish the image could capture those colorful rays. Editor: Interestingly, the monochrome format highlights the structural design with the way the light falls across the columns and defines the arcades. Also note how this gelatin-silver print transforms what were typically medieval characteristics to an evocative urban cityscape of the period, creating something of a theme, no? Curator: Yes, I get that. This isn't just a record of bricks and mortar. Quéval invites us to reflect upon how time transforms holy places into quiet containers for human experience. What do you take away from viewing this composition, purely on a structural basis? Editor: Structurally, the symmetrical composition draws the eye deep into the cathedral's apse. The play of light and shadow across the surfaces underscores the inherent tension between the finite materiality of the structure and the infinite possibilities it suggests. And you? Curator: I feel as though I've spent a minute reflecting on what I can be grateful for in my daily life. It gives pause to life’s quieter moments and beckons me to appreciate everything in its stillness.