Fisherman and girl 1741 - 1755

Editor: We're looking at "Fisherman and Girl," a porcelain sculpture made sometime between 1741 and 1755 by the Capodimonte Porcelain Manufactory. It's currently at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I'm struck by the almost playful quality of this scene, a sense of lightheartedness despite the figures seemingly caught in a moment of interruption. What's your take on this piece? Curator: Playful is a good word. To me, it whispers stories of Rococo sensibilities - picture powdered wigs, lavish picnics, flirtation in gardens… and a healthy dose of staged rusticity. Forget serious social commentary, darling! This is theatre in porcelain. The lopsided grin on the fisherman, the girl’s affected air of… well, daintiness. Do you think this a true representation of labor? Editor: Not at all! It feels almost like a romanticized fantasy of working-class life. The fisherman's clothes, though slightly disheveled, are far too elegant for someone truly hauling nets all day. And that pose! It is so deliberate! Curator: Exactly! See the artifice. The slightly absurd tilt of the fisherman. Now, look at the modeling itself. See how delicate those details are? That’s the real skill on display here. Consider also porcelain's preciousness during that era: this little tableau was destined for a mantelpiece, not a cottage. I also see a yearning, maybe a wistful one, in the very medium itself. This artificial Arcadia speaks volumes through its material. Editor: That makes perfect sense. It's about evoking an idea, a feeling, more than a literal reality. A porcelain dream of the pastoral! Curator: Precisely! And the dreams, my dear, often tell us more about the dreamer than the dreamt. What a joy to unravel these gilded fictions, one shimmering, porcelain layer at a time. Editor: I never would have thought of porcelain embodying yearning. Thanks for sharing your insights! It's given me a new perspective on the work.