Man with a turban 1833 - 1898

Editor: So, here we have Félicien Rops' "Man with a Turban," a graphite drawing from the late 19th century, housed here at the Met. There's something melancholic in his gaze, isn't there? It almost feels like we’re intruding on a private moment. What stands out to you when you look at it? Curator: Melancholic...intruding… yes, I feel that pull too! Isn’t it amazing how a few graphite strokes can evoke such intimacy? Rops wasn’t aiming for photorealism, was he? I wonder if it's about capturing a mood, an essence, rather than mere appearance. Look at the sketchy lines – almost like a memory fading. The turban becomes this exotic accent, a whisper of another world, a fleeting thought. I am curious to know more, what does the turban speak to you? Editor: The turban makes me think about ideas of Orientalism that were common at the time, of exoticizing the "other." The man himself, though, feels very human, vulnerable even. Curator: Precisely! It's that tension that fascinates me! The artist uses a perceived symbol of otherness – the turban – and somehow dissolves it, humanizes it. It becomes a portrait not of a type, but of an individual, pondering… perhaps just like us. Almost feels like an early modern attempt to undo artifice and embrace humanity! I almost want to say, in turban'd fellows, we find…ourselves. Am I going too far? Editor: Not at all! I’m really struck by that idea of "undoing artifice," and the raw, emotional connection Rops manages to create despite the historical context. Curator: Exactly! So, a seemingly simple sketch becomes a mirror. And hopefully you and I as co-gazers also see something more too? Editor: Definitely, I think I’ll carry that interpretation with me as I keep observing this artwork. Thank you!