Constantine's Battle at the Milvian Bridge 1722

Curator: Let’s turn our attention to Georg Philipp Rugendas' "Constantine's Battle at the Milvian Bridge," created around 1722. The piece, currently housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is rendered in ink on toned paper. Editor: The initial impact is overwhelming chaos, wouldn't you agree? A swirling vortex of bodies, both human and equine, locked in deadly combat. Curator: Indeed. The density contributes to the piece's evocation of battle as spiritual warfare. Rugendas utilizes symbolic light emerging from the heavens, literally shining down on Constantine’s army, while the enemy flounders in shadow. Consider the visual weight carried by the angel with supporting cherubs above—an explicit sign of divine approval. Editor: That "approval," though... sanctioned violence, perhaps? Look at the specific power dynamics being depicted: imperial ambition masquerading as divine will. It's worth interrogating who benefits from this "holy" war. Were these not wars of conquest and conversion, with the subjugation of diverse spiritual practices at their core? Curator: That's an astute observation. The symbol of the cross, blazoned with "In Hoc Signo Vinces", promising victory to Constantine, becomes a charged emblem when considered from the perspective of those whose beliefs were then systematically suppressed. The visual narrative here builds upon Constantine's claimed vision, pre-battle, intertwining secular power with newfound Christian iconography. Editor: The paper itself—its tone and the way the ink bleeds into it—almost feels like a battlefield. And it is easy to imagine it in terms of a palimpsest; underneath this triumphant scene must lie erased narratives, those of the vanquished whose perspectives were not recorded in official histories. Curator: What stays with me is how Rugendas managed to capture this specific moment, transitioning from polytheism towards a monotheistic Roman Empire, its influence forever imprinted upon Western Civilization. Editor: I am left pondering the consequences of that victory: the cost of conformity, and the erasure of diverse spiritual practices in the name of a singular "truth." It seems we need to remember, honor, and explore histories outside of what images like these tend to monumentalize.