The Lady of Shalott stained glass window 1890 - 1915

Matthys Maris created this stained glass window, called 'The Lady of Shalott', probably around the late 19th century, and it’s now in the Met. Imagine Maris, wrestling with light and color, piecing together these shards of glass. The lady herself is caught in two scenes, a split narrative of entrapment and release. On the left, she leans, gazing forlornly out the window, while to the right, she is adrift. She is pale against the earthiness of the boat, her posture resigned. The light isn't just illuminating the scene; it’s part of the story. I think of the Pre-Raphaelites, who were so interested in myth and legend, but Maris brings a kind of haunting introspection. He’s not just illustrating a story, he is inviting us to reflect. It’s like he’s saying, ‘Here’s a fragment, now you piece it together.’ Every artist is in conversation, and Maris is no different, taking up threads from Tennyson and the Pre-Raphaelites, twisting them into something all his own. Like all great art, this piece invites us into a space of uncertainty, a space where meaning isn’t fixed but emerges through feeling, and the stories we tell ourselves.