Lubin knielend voor zijn vader after 1765

Curator: Immediately I see contrition, the awkward kind. I mean, the scene’s lit like a stage, and that guy kneeling…well, he’s properly begging. It's heavy, but the line work feels playful almost, you know? Editor: Yes, and that interplay is precisely where the piece, an engraving titled "Lubin knielend voor zijn vader," really starts to hum. Created after 1765 by N. de Boubers, we're presented with what seems like a narrative pulled straight from a sentimental novel of the time. Curator: Sentimental indeed. It feels like one of those moral tales. See how everyone is arranged almost symmetrically? Editor: The Baroque influence is palpable—drama through composition, but constrained by the realism attempting to break through. Those figures posed around the doorframe feel theatrical. They represent almost archetypes, and this, too, comes from the period. They represent the curious onlookers ready to spread the rumor. Curator: The dog at the feet of the man holding court almost breaks my heart—a detail often overlooked, I suppose. He understands more than anyone that humility is something worth noticing. Editor: Absolutely. Dogs appear often in art to signify loyalty, devotion. Their steady, unfaltering gaze always provides us an emotional bridge in images that might otherwise seem too studied, too didactic. He brings with him some earth, some truth, which anchors the morality lesson here. Curator: Morality lesson is spot-on. If you cover up half the picture and focus on that dog, the mood shifts entirely, the humanity intensifies…It becomes less about staged repentance and more about genuine emotion. A nice study of contrition and love, actually. Editor: A fascinating tension, the constructed drama versus the quiet sincerity. Thank you, as always, for your invaluable insight! Curator: Pleasure’s mine. What a performance!