Two out of three Marys at the Sepulchre c. 1400

Editor: Here we have “Two out of three Marys at the Sepulchre,” a tempera painting from around 1400 by an anonymous artist, currently residing at the Städel Museum. I’m immediately struck by the stillness, despite the biblical story – their faces seem caught between sorrow and quiet contemplation. What grabs you most when you look at this, particularly knowing the cultural context of the time? Curator: Oh, it’s delicious, isn’t it? The artist has managed to evoke such solemnity through these rather understated figures. It’s almost as if they are painted prayers. Think about the late Medieval period; a time riddled with uncertainties, plague, political squabbles, religious reform... I see in those slightly downcast eyes the weight of the world, but also perhaps a glimmer of hope amidst despair. Do you feel it too, that tension? Editor: Yes, I think so. The floral background almost clashes with the heaviness of the scene. Curator: Exactly! The floral background – a signature of International Gothic – at first glance appears merely decorative, but doesn't it give the image the air of a tapestry, creating a space for the scene to almost play out? It isn’t naturalistic at all, yet it frames and highlights the very human emotions of grief and discovery. And it serves as a reminder of earthly beauty set against immense loss. A delicate dance between death and something beyond. What are your thoughts on the vessels that the women carry? Editor: They seem to hold spices. Were they planning to anoint the body? Perhaps, their quietness stems from the realization that their purpose has changed. They expected a corpse but instead encountered something far beyond their comprehension. Curator: Beautifully put. Their mundane task suddenly becomes imbued with cosmic significance. It makes me wonder, what "spices" do we carry to our own sepulchers? What ordinary acts might become extraordinary through unexpected revelation? Editor: That's a lovely way to look at it. I definitely have a new appreciation for this seemingly simple piece. Curator: Wonderful. For me too. Art, especially from a remove of centuries, invites this constant dance between historical understanding and personal resonance.