Burnfoot before 1893

Editor: So, here we have "Burnfoot," an engraving from before 1893, artist unknown. It depicts a peaceful landscape with a river and what looks like a stately home in the distance. It feels… nostalgic, maybe? What do you see in this piece? Curator: More than nostalgia, I see a carefully constructed image that speaks to power, ownership, and perhaps even colonial narratives. The idyllic landscape, the prominent estate... it invites us to consider who controlled that land, and at what cost to the people who may have lived there prior to that grand estate. The engraving technique itself, so precise and controlled, reinforces that sense of dominance. What histories are being obscured or elevated in this romanticized vision of “Burnfoot?” Editor: That's a perspective I hadn't considered. The house definitely commands the scene, doesn't it? The landscape almost feels like a backdrop. Curator: Precisely! And whose perspective are we seeing this from? Consider the power dynamics inherent in landscape art – who has the leisure and resources to commission and consume these images? Where does this ‘peaceful scene’ appear in a larger political and social landscape? We need to question the gaze presented to us. What is the context? Where does this engraving appear? Who was the target audience for it? Editor: The text on the facing page says this is from "Chapter XXXIX, Sir John Malcolm, Kincardine" – I think it might be a page in a biography of the person after whom this Kincardine is named. Curator: Now, that context deepens our reading considerably! Sir John Malcolm, connected to the East India Company… the landscape then becomes not just a place but a symbol of empire, a visual assertion of British influence. It reinforces that he controls the land. Editor: Wow, I was just seeing a pretty picture! I learned so much about considering context today. Curator: And I was reminded of the potency of landscape as a vehicle for ideology. There is more than meets the eye on this innocuous page.