Samson and Delilah 

Editor: We’re looking at a charcoal drawing called *Samson and Delilah* by Eugene Higgins. It depicts the biblical story of Delilah betraying Samson. There's such a somber and heavy mood to it; the figures are so dark. How would you interpret this work? Curator: That darkness speaks volumes, doesn’t it? It’s more than just the medium; it feels like a soul in torment, a premonition of disaster hanging heavy in the air. It reminds me a bit of Goya’s darker pieces— a psychological weightiness. Higgins isn't just illustrating a story; he's exploring betrayal, vulnerability. What do you think Delilah’s gesture suggests? Editor: Hmm, her gesture looks kind of detached, almost like a routine, you know? As though she is distant and without empathy. Curator: Precisely. There's a disturbing coolness to it, right? Delilah becomes this fascinating enigma – is she a victim of circumstance, a pawn in a larger game, or simply a woman exercising the power she has? And Samson…he's reduced, isn't he? Divested of his legendary strength, reduced to this pathetic submission. He’s monumental yet broken. It's heart-wrenching. It sort of makes you think, doesn't it? Of strength and how easily it can be undermined by trust and affection. It speaks volumes, especially in the context of…well, almost everything. Editor: Yeah, absolutely! Seeing them like this it completely reframes what I think I know about power. Thanks for this deeper perspective! Curator: My pleasure. Sometimes, I think that it only takes a drawing such as this one to re-evaluate and deepen one's vision of our art and humanity.