Portret van Georg Matthias von Selpert 1742 - 1743

Curator: Ah, here we have an engraving titled “Portret van Georg Matthias von Selpert.” Bernhard Gottlieb Fridrich created this portrait sometime between 1742 and 1743. The texture almost looks like pencil strokes somehow. What is your first reaction to the piece? Editor: It’s...striking, isn't it? Very imposing, the wig practically roars, demanding attention. It’s a world of power distilled into monochrome lines. Curator: The baroque style really shines through, don't you think? It's like stepping into a historical drama—so rich, the ornamentation almost dizzying! What exactly is the focal point to you? Is it von Selpert's serious gaze or the sheer spectacle of status? Editor: Definitely a mix. It’s cleverly staged with the ornate frame, partially drawn curtains—he’s not just *in* the world, he's presented to us with deliberate theatricality. I mean, even his face, though realistic, seems sculpted, monumental. Look at the lines of the engraving; there is clear structure and precise tonal shifts in how they describe his features and convey the fabric’s folds. Curator: And the inscription! It details Selpert’s many accomplishments. So very important to immortalize all his roles. A window into a person, sure, but equally a symbol, almost archetypal, reflecting ideals of power and persona of that era. Editor: True. Think about what this work aims to preserve, not just an image but a legacy, a position in society. In this portrait’s graphic language, Fridrich not only immortalized Georg Matthias von Selpert, but the structures propping his reign. This is how the elite chose to visualize themselves—powerful, enduring, formidable. Curator: This makes one reflect on the value placed on legacy back then, this desire to shape how future generations see you. Perhaps a slightly sobering thought in our very digital, ephemeral age? It begs the question of what and who will we memorialize next? Editor: Indeed. Makes you consider what of value we pass on or consider permanent—I leave more pictures of my dinner on the Internet than carefully planned, meticulously etched versions of my being. Food for thought.