Théophile Brachet de la Millitiere, Counselor to the king c. 1645

Curator: I find this image so arresting—it's Jean Morin's print of Théophile Brachet de la Millitiere, a counselor to the king. Editor: My first impression is of quiet dignity, almost stoicism. The framing device, that octagonal border, feels like a window onto a particular kind of 17th-century self-possession. Curator: Absolutely. The frame with the inscription is a symbolic architecture, isn't it? It signifies the weight of his titles and his place in the social hierarchy. It's also a protective device. Editor: Precisely! The lettering itself becomes a visual element, a halo of words. But notice, too, the sitter's direct gaze. He's contained, yet utterly present, like a memory being preserved. Curator: I am interested in what kind of memory is being preserved. I see a visual metaphor of power contained but actively engaged, both in his look and in the ornate robe. Editor: And the very act of engraving, a meticulous, repetitive process, echoes the counselor's role: deliberate, thoughtful, and permanent. It is a way of solidifying legacy. It is a powerful statement. Curator: Indeed. It makes me reflect on the careful construction of identity, even back then. Editor: Agreed. And how some symbols and gestures remain potent across centuries.