Ulysses Entering Troy 1780s

Editor: So, this is Antoine François Callet's "Ulysses Entering Troy," dating back to the 1780s, created with ink, and it now resides at the Met. I'm immediately struck by the dynamism and almost chaotic energy—it feels very baroque. What’s your take on how Callet portrays this pivotal moment from the Trojan War? Curator: Ah, a delicious dance with destruction, wouldn’t you say? This piece…it whispers of heroism draped in the grim cloak of deceit. I see Callet grappling with the dual nature of war, the celebrated victory tainted by the slyness needed to achieve it. Look how the triumphant figures seem almost swallowed by the sheer volume of bodies… the price of conquest vividly rendered. What does the overall sepia tone evoke for you? Editor: A sense of age, of course, almost like looking at a faded memory…or maybe a classical sculpture in sepia tones? But it mutes the violence a bit, distancing us from the reality. Curator: Exactly! It's not just history, it's *interpreted* history, softened by time and artistic license. See how Ulysses, perched atop his steed, becomes almost a part of the chaos, not a conqueror standing above it? It's as if Callet asks, "Can triumph ever truly be separate from tragedy?" I suspect that there’s no straightforward answer there, just an endless pondering, and mark-making. Editor: That’s a really interesting point. I hadn’t considered how the composition implicates Ulysses in the carnage. It's less a celebration of victory and more a meditation on the cost. Curator: It reminds me that art often lies not in definitive statements but in provoking delicious uncertainties. What have you come to realize that perhaps was hidden at first? Editor: It's a reminder that even in apparent triumph, shadows linger. A much less straightforward portrayal than I initially thought! Curator: Precisely! And isn't it thrilling to uncover those unexpected layers, hidden beneath the sepia-toned surface?