Saint Sébastien 

Editor: So here we have Jean-Jacques Henner’s "Saint Sébastien," an oil painting with… a lot of shadow! The figure of Saint Sebastian really emerges from the darkness. What do you see in this piece, that I might be missing? Curator: Darkness, indeed. But that darkness, my friend, is the womb from which light is born. The Saint's pale body, vulnerable and luminous, isn't just *there*; it’s fighting its way out of the canvas’s deep abyss. Think of Caravaggio, maybe, but smudged with a beautiful dream. Editor: That’s beautiful… So the darkness isn't just negative space? Curator: Oh, never! Henner wasn't painting absences; he was conjuring the *feeling* of martyrdom, the *smell* of fear mixed with faith. The strokes themselves feel desperate, urgent, as if he were wrestling the image into existence. Almost unfinished. Doesn’t that give it a special kind of power for you? Editor: I think so. It does seem less like a portrait and more like a…vision? Curator: Exactly! Now, where do you think Henner might have been trying to lead our vision with this painting? Is it physical suffering, religious ecstasy, maybe the nature of belief itself? What whispers to *you*? Editor: Maybe the intensity. The starkness of it. I didn't expect to feel so moved. Curator: Isn't it fantastic how a simple dialogue between light and dark can crack open our hardened little hearts? Thanks for pointing me to my own emotion about this one!