Earplug c. 15th century

Curator: What a peculiar thing. Looking at it makes me feel centered, like focusing on a tiny vortex of calm amidst the everyday cacophony. Editor: Well, you might appreciate the title, then. This little object is called “Earplug.” It's a 15th-century sculpture, currently residing here at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Curator: From an anonymous maker? Makes me wonder about all the stories this object has passively absorbed, like some sort of sonic sponge. Made of wood, you say? It doesn't appear particularly organic in the photograph. More like a stone… or an ancient fossil. Editor: Yes, though modest in scale, it holds weight in historical and cultural significance. These were often adorned to symbolize status, but also mark an individual's ability to command power over their sensory experience. Curator: To silence the outside world...to hear oneself, perhaps? Interesting. Though the thought of inserting that, especially one so seemingly… weathered, into my ear is not particularly inviting. Makes one think about the relationship between decoration, practicality, and possibly even pain. Were these a sign of prestige…or a necessary evil to bear in exchange for higher standing? Editor: We often project contemporary understandings of comfort, or the 'primitive' onto objects from the past, or indeed other cultures. Looking at examples of how earplugs, gauges, and the like persist even now may provide more similarities than differences between "us" and "them." Though the maker is unknown, the impulse for self-definition transcends cultural boundaries. The fact it survived this long shows the resonance of what it represents. Curator: A relic of intentional quiet. I like that. I keep wondering about the hands that shaped it, what kind of sonic environment they lived in, what they needed to block out. Was it as unbearable as the modern world can be? Maybe that’s why it’s so deeply appealing in its simplicity. It seems almost urgent somehow in this ever-louder world of ours. Editor: It’s fascinating to consider how such a humble form carries such rich layers of social history and personal introspection, right?