The Firing Squad, plate twelve from The Large Miseries of War n.d.

Editor: This is “The Firing Squad, plate twelve from The Large Miseries of War,” an undated etching by Gerrit Lucasz van Schagen, currently residing at the Art Institute of Chicago. It’s a bleak and frankly overwhelming scene of military violence. What do you make of it? Curator: Overwhelming is right! I am struck by how the chaos seems carefully orchestrated. See how the eye darts from the dog in the foreground—oblivious, yet present—to the grim choreography of the execution, culminating in that almost cartoonish cloud of smoke? Van Schagen doesn't shy away from the gruesomeness of war; instead, he presents it with a sort of detached observation, almost clinical in its depiction. Does that resonate with you? Editor: It does, now that you point it out. The dog is a strange touch, but the ‘detached observation’ rings true. It’s not glorifying anything, just stating something horrible. Curator: Exactly! The evenhanded distribution of light, the way the figures are placed within a vast landscape – all these elements work together to create a sense of scale. He wants to impress upon us the vastness, the pervasiveness, of misery. Do you get a sense that it’s inescapable? Editor: Absolutely. The wide shot makes the figures seem almost insignificant. Looking closer, the figures have very simplified anatomies and expressions; however, even these simplistic renderings create the impression of suffering, loss, or fear of death, with many of them dead on the ground. I now notice how his choice to depict all these states gives even more life to your theory about van Schagen's desire to render an impactful impression of overwhelming tragedy. Curator: Yes! A dark fable unfolded in strokes of ink. Now tell me, what will you take away from our short time with this image? Editor: The way something so horrific can be depicted without being sensationalized… It’s made me rethink how we often see war represented. What about you? Curator: I am struck by how small touches – the dog, the distant fortresses – amplify, rather than detract, from the central horror. Details, even seemingly minor ones, always matter, in life, and art.