Tobias and the Angel 1607 - 1610

Curator: This landscape painting from between 1607 and 1610 is titled "Tobias and the Angel," currently residing here at the SMK, the National Gallery of Denmark. Editor: My goodness, the black and white almost gives it a timeless, dreamlike quality. Is that right? Monochrome dream with wings... And is that a giant fish they're lugging? Curator: It certainly does have an ethereal atmosphere, doesn’t it? While our copy here presents only a grayscale rendition, the original painting would've possessed color—and yes, that's Tobias carrying the fish, guided by the Archangel Raphael. The scene is drawn from the Book of Tobit. Editor: A biblical tale! So, we have not just a serene landscape but a whole narrative wrapped up in this scene. I am curious; it is surreal. This unexpected pilgrimage, the weight of that enormous fish. One could only wonder about its layers. Curator: Indeed. It's a story about faith, healing, and divine intervention. Raphael, disguised as a human, accompanies Tobias on a journey to collect money. The fish is caught on the way, and its gall, as the angel instructs, will later cure Tobias’ father’s blindness. The landscape is beautifully rendered, almost as a character in itself, bearing witness to the events unfolding. What strikes me is the quietness in their interaction. The drama comes entirely from outside, in the world. Editor: You're right, the landscape is really immersive and encompassing. This painting offers so much peace—it makes me want to wander off into it. Though I might leave the giant fish for them. The quietness seems a crucial part, too—an almost muted expectation of wonder, I find. Curator: And that quiet expectation mirrors something about how we approach art history—attending carefully to how imagery functions as a form of silent persuasion. It's why an artwork can retain its enigmatic power for centuries, inviting our imaginative projections into the unspoken layers of its meaning. Editor: Beautifully put! A silent invitation to engage...well, that makes the experience far richer, more about possibility than conclusion. And certainly worth our own reflective wander.