The Nurse 1607 - 1608

Editor: Here we have "The Nurse," a ceramic sculpture created around 1607-1608 by Guillaume Dupré. It’s currently housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What strikes me most is the almost stark simplicity of the figures against the colored glazes, a tenderness captured in clay. What do you see in this piece that I might be missing? Curator: Ah, yes, this quiet moment frozen in time. The simplicity, as you mentioned, is deceptive. Think of it – in a world so driven by portraiture of the wealthy and powerful, Dupré chooses instead a scene so universal, so intimate. Almost…revolutionary, don’t you think? He elevates the everyday, bestows dignity upon labor and motherhood. And that choice of ceramic! The vulnerability of the material contrasts beautifully with the enduring strength of the bond it represents. Do you think he intended to highlight that tension? Editor: That's fascinating. I hadn’t considered the fragility of ceramic echoing the vulnerability of a child. Perhaps that tension is the point? So much art from this period aimed to immortalize the grand and powerful, yet he chooses a… wet nurse. I love how the sculpture manages to convey the humanness of the sitter. Curator: Precisely! It's a subversion, almost a gentle rebellion. By rendering such a humble subject in a medium associated with fine art, he's blurring those rigid social lines, suggesting that beauty and value can be found in the most unassuming of places. He prompts us to consider our own preconceptions of beauty and worth. And notice her gaze, downwards toward the child: I wonder what she thinks as she cares for this babe? Editor: I see what you mean! Thanks! I will never see "The Nurse" in the same way again. Curator: Wonderful. And remember: every object holds a conversation. You just have to learn how to listen.