The fire of Babylon and the mourning of the kings and merchants 975

Curator: Right now, we're looking at "The Fire of Babylon and the Mourning of the Kings and Merchants." Created around the year 975 by the artist Ende, it's a tempera on parchment, alive with color and intricate detail. My initial thought? There's such raw vulnerability here. Like a children's book about the end of the world. Editor: A fascinating mix of Byzantine and Islamic artistic influences, immediately felt, almost palpable. The walled city, ablaze and cascading upwards is such a rigid form, contrasted by the emotional weeping of the merchants and kings. The artist here shows us devastation as spectacle and personal sorrow as a performative rite. Curator: Oh, the artist Ende certainly invites that, doesn’t she? To dive deep. You said rigid. I keep looking at that burning city and it seems anything BUT rigid. There’s an almost playful quality to the towers, a joyful chaos. What draws me are those repeating geometric patterns that soften the blow of it all. It feels strangely comforting. The world can end, yes, but isn’t it gorgeous on the way down? Editor: Gorgeous maybe isn’t quite the word that springs to mind... however. The repetitive geometric patterns are indeed intriguing because Babylon—notorious for its opulence—here turns into patterns and architectural motifs which speak to Islamic art. The towers feel more akin to Moorish designs than a biblical firestorm, hinting, perhaps, that Babylon was once grand in reality and has since devolved into legend. Ende, our 10th century artist is hinting at loss and misremembered histories, with those Islamic images offering as something both beautiful and melancholic. Curator: Mmm. Lost beauty indeed, and perhaps more timely than ever. Ende’s emotional depth reminds us, almost screams at us, that devastation never appears solely as ashes and destruction. It’s this odd tango of the magnificent with the mournful, no? This illustration doesn't only depict history but the deep pang of loss felt when glory fades. I mean, empires come and empires go, right? Maybe this illuminated painting is a poignant warning about how beautiful the world could become, if empires fell everyday… a day dream of a beautiful end. Editor: Indeed. The emotional power of loss made real; this illumination offers both lament and lingering admiration for what was, leaving us with echoes and afterimages of Babylon's majestic yet fiery fate. Curator: Ultimately, maybe a gentle, fiery prompt for a bit of reflection? A reminder, etched in color and pain, to notice, remember, and mourn, the ephemeral beauty of life.