Ferdinand De Lesseps 

Curator: This portrait drawing of Ferdinand De Lesseps is attributed to Léon Bonnat, rendered in pencil. What springs to mind when you look at it? Editor: A dignified weariness, perhaps? Like the kind of sigh that comes after building a very long ditch, you know? The sketchiness somehow adds to it. It feels honest, less pomp and circumstance than an oil painting would. Curator: The choice of medium certainly shapes our perception. Considering De Lesseps' ambitious, yet ultimately troubled, Suez and Panama Canal projects, that weariness becomes poignant. A pencil drawing lends itself to intimacy, almost a vulnerability, that a more formal portrait might conceal. We can see the historical echoes of empire, technology and nature. Editor: Absolutely. There's something very immediate about pencil. It lacks the weight, the... forever-ness of oil, which makes it perfect for capturing a fleeting moment, or maybe even a shifting legacy. He looks like he's carrying the weight of those canals. Curator: And within that legacy, it's crucial to remember the labor and often devastating impact on colonized communities. De Lesseps, as a figure, embodies both ingenuity and the complex dynamics of 19th-century imperialism and it's impossible to remove that layer when considering him. The drawing almost becomes a meditation on power, ambition, and exploitation. Editor: True. Art doesn’t exist in a bubble, does it? Knowing all that, I almost see a ghostliness in the light strokes. The man who dared to join two oceans is here but... fading. Still, it's a strong piece, makes you think. And sometimes, thinking is all we need. Curator: Precisely. This work, through its very simplicity, provokes complex reflections about engineering hubris and historical injustice. A fitting reminder of how individual portraits connect to larger societal narratives. Editor: Well said. I’ll be thinking about all those ghosts for a while. Time for a strong coffee, perhaps?