The Prodigal Son with the Swine, plate three from The History of the Prodigal Son n.d.

Editor: This is a print by Sebald Beham titled, *The Prodigal Son with the Swine*. The detail achieved with engraving is amazing! It's incredibly bleak and emphasizes the son's lowest point with... well, all those pigs! What do you think strikes the viewer first? Curator: You know, it's that quiet stillness juxtaposed against the palpable desperation. There he stands, surrounded by swine, looking absolutely dejected. He is leaning on his crook, his gaze cast slightly upwards. Editor: You’re right, the contrast between the activity of the swine and his stationary pose emphasizes his resignation. Why include so much detail, I wonder? Curator: Northern Renaissance art loved detail, didn't it? Think of the texture of the trees, the shading on the swine... Beham wants you to *feel* the squalor, to viscerally understand the depths to which the Prodigal Son has fallen. It becomes almost tactile through Beham's masterful use of engraving. What does this moment evoke in you? Editor: Isolation. Definitely, isolation. Surrounded, yet completely alone in his misery. Also a little sorry for him. He looks like he wants a hug. Curator: Precisely! And perhaps there’s a mirror being held up to the viewer. Have we ever felt like this? Lost? Forlorn? What I initially saw as bleak I am now considering as being full of human expression. Thanks to your thoughts. Editor: Wow, I never considered that before! Thank you.