Elfde wintertentoonstelling van de Societe d'Horticulture te Luik, penning als tweede prijs uitgereikt aan Bertrand Collette voor een azalea indica phaenica 1837

Editor: This bronze medal, dating back to 1837, is a prize awarded to Bertrand Collette for his azalea indica. I find the design remarkably detailed; its classical figure is a bit formal, yet there’s something about the imagery that feels like a celebration of nature. What stories do you think this little artifact holds? Curator: Stories, you say? More like entire gardens blooming in the palm of your hand. It's more than just bronze; it’s a time capsule of horticultural pride! What do you see in her gesture, holding the flowers? Is it an offering? A benediction? Perhaps it mirrors Collette himself presenting his prize-winning azalea. I find it amusing, too—the thought of competitive gardening. Editor: That’s a lovely idea! It makes me think of modern flower shows, but with a distinctly 19th-century gravitas. I'd never considered the competitive element, but you're right, the medal certainly suggests a degree of... rivalry? Curator: Not necessarily rivalry, child, but pride! Think of it as the art of cultivation elevated—quite literally—onto a pedestal. Every delicate line on that medal sings a hymn to beauty, perseverance, and the strange human impulse to categorize loveliness. The backside even bears testament to Bertrand, wreathed in dedication. What are your thoughts on the composition's visual impact? Editor: I love the depth achieved in such a small space! All those little symbols - tools and blooms. The lady is stunning with all her drapery, a great detail. Seeing both sides is wonderful; the text balances out the form well. Curator: Indeed! And thinking of it not only as a "thing", but as an emotional token helps bring us closer to Bertrand and the community involved with the Horticulture Society. Makes you think, doesn't it? What future mementos will persist about our moment? Editor: Absolutely. I never really appreciated medals until now, what they represent for historical human nature: dedication, craftsmanship, passion... something tiny representing large! Curator: Precisely! May this little disc forever remind us that art is everywhere, even in a gardener's gloved hand.