Pair of Candelabra c. 1880

Editor: Here we have Auguste Cain's "Pair of Candelabra," dating to around 1880. They are bronze, and something about them feels simultaneously delicate and imposing, like feathered dinosaurs presiding over a fancy dinner party. I'm particularly intrigued by the intricate details of the birds and foliage. What stands out to you? Curator: You know, they remind me of tales from a time when nature held more magic, when bird song was practically prophecy. Looking at these, I see a dance between the industrial age, with its precise casting, and a lingering romance for the natural world, untamed. Can you imagine these reflecting candlelight in a dimly lit, gilded room, each flicker making those tiny chains sway like whispered secrets? It’s not just holding candles; it’s holding an atmosphere. Editor: Definitely! The chains add this subtle, almost musical element. Do you think there's a particular symbolism behind the choice of birds? Curator: Well, birds often signify freedom, transcendence. But look closer—these aren't generic birds. Their fierce posture suggests something a bit more predatory, perhaps a hint of nature’s inherent wildness brought into a domestic space. The twist is quite delectable. It almost seems as though Cain wanted us to question the easy beauty of decorative art, asking us if we've tamed nature, or has it merely agreed to a truce. What do you reckon? Editor: I hadn’t considered the slightly menacing vibe of the birds before, but now it adds another layer. I was so focused on the elegance! Curator: And isn't that always the way? Art surprises you when you least expect it. It whispers until you listen closely. Editor: It really does. I’ll never look at a candelabra the same way again. Curator: Exactly. We came seeking light and found a little bit of shadow too. A fitting souvenir from our brief encounter with Monsieur Cain, wouldn’t you say?