Rabbit and Copper Pot 1735

Editor: Here we have Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin’s, *Rabbit and Copper Pot* painted in 1735. It’s an oil painting, quite a muted palette. The rabbit hangs so passively, almost like an ingredient waiting to be used. It’s… well, it's quite bleak. What's your read on it? Curator: Bleak is one word for it! It’s funny, isn't it, how Chardin takes what could be a straightforward still life and infuses it with… something. Think of the Dutch Masters! Everything glistening with light and wealth. Chardin pulls the shades down, almost literally. That subdued light, that simple composition... Editor: Right! It’s far from celebratory, is it? Curator: Exactly! But then, look closer. See how the copper pot glows despite everything? How the artist attends to texture—the rabbit's fur, the sheen of the pot, the rough wall—each element handled with quiet reverence? The artist almost wants you to touch everything in the painting... even if the overall subject is quite morbid... don't you agree? Editor: I do now! I was so caught up in the sombre mood, I nearly missed that sense of intimacy. Curator: That’s Chardin's magic! He makes you lean in, to question what beauty looks like. It’s not about opulence, but something altogether more tender. And what's truly great, for me, is to be in a gallery amongst people, and be moved by such different things in just one artwork! Editor: Totally. Thanks; that's changed my perception of the work. Now I'm seeing, despite the initial mood, beauty is here. Curator: And it's in more than one place too, you just have to have a look.