Don Quixote 

Editor: So, we're looking at an engraving by Gustave Doré titled "Don Quixote." It’s packed with figures, and honestly, a bit unsettling with all those spears pointed upwards! What's your initial impression? Curator: You know, "unsettling" is a great word. It reminds me of a dream, the kind where reality blurs and you're surrounded by slightly menacing caricatures. Doré was a master of light and shadow, wouldn't you say? Notice how he uses the deep blacks to create this overwhelming feeling, as if Sancho Panza – looking like a melon about to burst, wouldn't you say? – is stumbling through not just space, but a dark night of the soul. And those bulbous bellies! They’re the kind of exaggerated features a street artist might use, right? Do you think there's a connection to social satire here? Editor: Definitely. It feels like a mocking portrayal of power. But, beyond the satire, is there something else we should be noticing about the composition itself? Curator: Ah, yes! It's easy to get lost in the details. Doré cleverly uses the spears, for example, to lead your eye upward, making the scene feel even more chaotic and endless, while all that weight on the bottom anchors us in the absurdity of the immediate moment, don’t you agree? A very strange way to organize it all! What do you make of it? Editor: It’s like Doré is trapping the viewer, visually and emotionally, between aspiration and the heavy, grotesque reality. Curator: Precisely! I also love the thought that this entire dramatic invasion exists entirely in Sancho's deluded mind, or perhaps, ours? What do you make of that? Editor: Absolutely, it pushes me to question my own perception, much like Don Quixote did. Thanks for your perspectives, that gives me something to think about!