En ces temps noirs de jactance et d'incroyance, Notre-Dame de la Fin des Terresvigilante 1927

Editor: So, here we have Rouault's 1927 intaglio print, "En ces temps noirs de jactance et d'incroyance, Notre-Dame de la Fin des Terresvigilante." It's a powerful Madonna and Child image but also seems incredibly somber and even slightly… haunted. What leaps out at you when you look at it? Curator: Haunted, yes, perhaps like a shadow wrestling with the light. Notice the halo, not of ethereal gold, but almost emanating from within, as if their forms *generate* the light struggling against encroaching darkness. It reminds me of stained glass, not just in the thick, dark outlines, but the emotional weight. Consider the title – in these dark times… it speaks of a specific historical anxiety, wouldn’t you agree? What does "the end of the earth" evoke in you? Editor: A place of refuge, maybe? Or maybe a place where hope clings on by a thread? The way Rouault carves the faces, they seem less idealized and more…human. Curator: Exactly! Rouault felt called to express spirituality in the streets and with circus performers—not just angels on clouds. His figures often have a vulnerability, even an awkwardness, that bypasses superficial beauty for a deeper truth. Is this Madonna triumphant or burdened, in your eyes? Does that matter? Editor: I think… burdened. And it changes the whole feeling of the piece, from reverent to… sympathetic. Curator: Beautifully put! Perhaps it is an eternal echo – darkness and light, doubt and faith. And what of us now, grappling with our *own* dark times? Do works like this speak across the ages? Editor: Absolutely. Seeing the weight in her expression…it’s like she’s carrying all the world’s sorrows, past, present, and future. Curator: Perhaps, then, she guards the end of the earth that lives inside us, offering silent vigilance against whatever comes next. I feel lighter knowing Rouault left us that vision to look for.