Female figure playing the bass-viol 1802 - 1902

Curator: Ah, here we have Alexandre-Louis-Marie Charpentier's bronze relief, "Female figure playing the bass-viol," dating from around 1890, though dating is hard, because it seems that is the estimate between 1802 to 1902. It resides here at the Met. What's your immediate sense of it? Editor: Sensuous, almost brazen. There's a tactile quality that the bronze accentuates; I can almost feel the cool smoothness against warm skin. And the angle is so...intimate. It's a powerful celebration of the body and music entwined. Curator: Absolutely. It challenges conventions of public art. Consider its display—in whose homes would this have been placed? What kind of elite patron would seek such a decidedly... present… nude? It subverts the classicism so prevalent in academic sculpture by presenting a realistic, even earthy figure, not a sanitized ideal. Editor: There is a frankness here, a devotion to the beauty in real form. The lines aren’t about idealized perfection; they speak to strength, movement, life itself pouring out through both the musician and the instrument. You know, I get the impression that the instrument is her extension, literally the source of vibration, emotion, even light. Curator: Light is certainly present, the modeling of the bronze catches and bends even though there seems to be so little depth! In terms of Charpentier’s role, he existed at a point in the late 19th Century when artists explored avenues outside state patronage. This, I think, expresses this change. And there's a palpable defiance of the traditional, male-dominated art world, isn’t there? Editor: Precisely. To me, it’s a song made solid. Curator: An unconventional artifact reflecting changing dynamics in the art world of the time. Editor: A symphony in bronze and boldness.