Marcus de Evangelist 1671 - 1672

Editor: So, this is "Marcus de Evangelist" by Gilles Rousselet, done around 1671 or '72. It’s an engraving, so lines are everything. I'm really struck by how still and contemplative it feels, especially with that intense lion right beside him. What do you see when you look at it? Curator: Ah, yes! Immediately I’m transported. This image breathes with a kind of knowing, doesn't it? The light, for me, almost hums. It’s focused entirely on St. Mark and his lion, both bathed in this, let's call it, "divine awareness," while the background almost dissolves. You sense that the true world lies within the book he's writing, and, maybe, within the silent roar of that lion. Have you considered the Baroque love for dramatic chiaroscuro, here setting the stage for the Saint's introspective moment? Editor: Definitely. The contrast makes him so present, yet distant. It's funny you mention the lion's roar - it looks kind of docile to me. Almost...resigned? Curator: Precisely! The lion, Mark's attribute, isn't roaring but pondering. See how its paw rests almost delicately near Mark's hand? It is almost as if it embodies a question—a silent commentary on the text being composed. Does it make you think differently about Mark's power and his message? It isn’t about domination but a shared understanding. It's pretty remarkable, this stillness, wouldn’t you agree? Editor: Absolutely! It makes it less about power, more about... inner peace. It’s fascinating how much a simple engraving can hold. Curator: It’s a visual poem. Perhaps next time, instead of just 'seeing,' try feeling your way through an artwork? What does its texture feel like to your imagination? You might be surprised at what you discover.