Sitting cavalier 

Curator: It has such a wistful air, doesn't it? This work, believed to be by Cornelis Troost, is a drawing rendered in pencil and chalk titled "Sitting Cavalier," residing here at the Städel Museum. Editor: Wistful, yes, but there’s also a resignation in his posture. His dress certainly speaks of a particular social status – perhaps of the leisure classes, whose dominance rested, let’s not forget, on deeply inequitable social structures. Curator: Well, that’s certainly one reading! But his gaze… he seems to be looking slightly beyond us. I imagine him contemplating… clouds! A particularly elegant turn of phrase he’s been polishing. Or perhaps regretting having one glass too many? Editor: Or perhaps, facing the very real precarity of that social position, even in its advantages. After all, this is the era leading up to revolutionary shifts. Curator: Maybe so. But I'm more interested in the rendering of light. It seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. A touch theatrical. See how it softens the angles of his face and gathers around his knees? The cross-hatching almost makes him look as though he’s sitting within a light projection. Editor: I see it as more revealing than flattering. The medium – drawing, in these delicate strokes – exposes the sitter rather than glorifying him. The informality hints at an accessibility that I think consciously flirts with class boundaries. Curator: Well, whether that’s his conscious intention or not, I appreciate its gentle playfulness. This “Sitting Cavalier” is quite charming and accessible in the very intimate way. I always discover something fresh when I return to him. Editor: And perhaps the next discovery will unearth deeper layers of meaning, further complicating our understanding of the era and its inhabitants. Until then, his gaze will continue to intrigue us.