The Departure of the Prodigal Son c. 1912 - 1913

Curator: Up next we have "The Departure of the Prodigal Son," an etching by Jean-Louis Forain, likely created between 1912 and 1913. What are your initial thoughts? Editor: Well, it’s strikingly raw, isn’t it? All sketchy lines and subdued emotions. It's small, yes? Intimate in scale, like we're eavesdropping on a private farewell. Curator: Indeed. The composition certainly reinforces that. The family is rendered with swift, almost nervous lines. The etching medium suits the subject – that emotional fragility. Now, the prodigal son tale, of course, is ancient, loaded with symbolic weight of repentance, forgiveness. Editor: Absolutely. But Forain’s take feels…different. It’s less about grand moral pronouncements, and more a slice of everyday life marked by a certain degree of alienation and disappointment, wouldn't you agree? Look at the parents. Curator: They embody weariness. Notice how the father looms behind, his features indistinct, like a specter of past disappointments. While the mother clings, but her gaze carries more grief than hope. The religious parable is rendered, let’s say, more modern – a critique perhaps? Editor: I'm picking up echoes of the changing socio-political landscapes of Europe then. The narrative isn't just biblical; it's woven with emerging anxieties and societal shifts reflected in the father's weary resignation and mother's anxiety. The industrial revolution changed what a son can do! The church became secondary for many at this time... Curator: And the son? He looks… ambivalent, caught between eagerness for escape and awareness of the pain he’s causing. Editor: His stance! The satchel ready, one foot about to step on the path of no return. It’s almost painfully relatable. It speaks to that eternal push and pull of tradition versus individual aspiration. Curator: The universality of that narrative, combined with Forain’s particular visual language, makes this print so compelling, I think. He makes no judgements about what will become of the boy! Editor: Precisely. For me, this is a moment suspended—caught between grief and the great unknown. Thank you, Forain! I'm going to have to add this piece to my memory palace.