Harpsichord 1773

Editor: Here we have Giovanni Paolo Leoni’s harpsichord from 1773, currently housed at the Met. It's made with metal and woodwork, quite sculptural and definitely Italian! I am immediately drawn to its almost delicate appearance; those elegantly curved legs make me think of a ballet dancer. What's your take on it? Curator: Ballet dancers, you say? I like that! It's true; there’s a lightness to it despite being a pretty substantial instrument. To me, it’s all about layers, really, it is. On one level, it's pure craftsmanship, the kind you’d see commissioned by wealthy families—status and refinement embodied. Then there’s the sound, a sonic world contained within those painted panels. And, dare I say, maybe it hints at the artist’s soul too—putting something very intimate into making what others will enjoy. Do you sense that at all? Editor: Absolutely. Knowing this instrument was crafted rather than mass-produced certainly brings a deeper appreciation. There is a definite sense of care involved in that process, perhaps bordering on love. What were you thinking of when referring to status? Curator: Well, back then, owning an instrument like this wasn't just about enjoying music, you see; it projected an image. Wealthy families would show off their patronage of the arts, and musical evenings became a display of cultural capital. And also, a well-played harpsichord—and, if the instrument happens to feature one's family crest!—showed good breeding for young ladies. I do think it gives us insight into the lives, pastimes, and aspirations of those times, you know? Editor: It really changes my understanding to know its historical place. I now think of it more like a social marker. Thanks for making it so accessible! Curator: My pleasure, entirely. Always glad to strike a chord – bad pun intended! – and to show that music speaks of broader things.