Carl XI 1659 - 1663

Curator: We’re looking now at an engraving from sometime between 1659 and 1663 by Albert Haelwegh, housed here at the SMK. It depicts Carl XI as a rather young man. Editor: He looks like he’s just been told he can’t have any more candy. Seriously, this piece…it’s very serious. Imposing, even though the scale is intimate, but something about the lines, the precise rendering... it suggests a sort of unyielding authority, prematurely stamped onto a boy's face. Curator: The rigidity you're sensing absolutely speaks to the formal visual language of power at that time. Consider the oval frame, almost like a cameo, the Latin inscription below framing him in layers of authority... Then look at the fur-lined cloak he wears, the detailing of the crowns decorating it, not to mention the scepter he grips... It’s pure symbolic declaration. Editor: But he’s so young! And holding that oversized scepter… there's almost a vulnerability there. It's like he’s trying on a role that doesn't quite fit yet. Almost theatrical. Do you think that's intentional or simply a reflection of the challenge in portraying someone stepping into such an immense responsibility? Curator: That's an insightful observation. Baroque portraiture was often about presenting an ideal. Here, though, you see a fascinating tension between the inherited role, the divinely appointed status of kingship represented by these motifs, and the clear humanity of a young Carl. Editor: Which really lands thanks to the engraver's skillful handling of light and shadow. There's a tenderness in how his face is illuminated, and that contrasts sharply with the crispness of his regal attire. The effect? Human. Relatable. And frankly, a bit melancholic. Curator: Exactly. Engravings, of course, relied on a codified language of line, hatching, and cross-hatching to convey all that nuance. And Albert Haelwegh really demonstrates his mastery here, doesn’t he? It captures both the formal and the deeply personal dimensions of its subject. Editor: Absolutely. I walk away feeling I've seen a little behind the facade, if only for a moment. That quiet vulnerability is what sticks with you.