Sterfbed van prins Willem, 1879 by Smeeton-Tilly

Sterfbed van prins Willem, 1879 1879

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print, engraving

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portrait

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print

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old engraving style

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history-painting

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engraving

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realism

Dimensions: height 218 mm, width 320 mm

Copyright: Rijks Museum: Open Domain

Curator: Looking at this engraving, titled "Sterfbed van prins Willem, 1879," or "Deathbed of Prince William, 1879", my first thought is it has all the warmth and vibrancy of an accountant's ledger. Somber with a capital S. Editor: Yes, well, it *is* an image of someone dying, isn't it? And of a prince, no less, so it's also a carefully constructed image of political and social moment. Consider how these images functioned within the public sphere at this time, announcing, mourning, and reinforcing ideas about dynasty, duty, and death. Curator: Duty… such a weighty word! Look at the man though, so still. I wonder what dreams he chased, or didn't, right up to the edge of oblivion. That face is calm but strangely anonymous. Editor: Exactly! And the meticulous detail given to the objects surrounding him—the candelabras, the ornate clock, the heavy, almost theatrical drapery. It's a powerful staging. It really underlines the setting that framed royal lives. Everything has been carefully designed to project a particular image, of control even at a point where control is utterly absent. Curator: The contrast is heartbreaking, really. Such pomp around the ultimate personal experience. All that 'stuff' meant to offer comfort but ultimately isolating, I bet. Is this realism in style only, or is it emotionally real? Editor: I see it as an exercise in power, not emotions. Think of who commissioned the image and what purpose it served, beyond mere remembrance. Curator: I see your point about power—art serving the man. Yet, something about that single, unwavering candle flame says to me 'fleeting existence.' Editor: Hmm, yes I hadn't quite considered that; perhaps even unintentionally, a moment of truth peeks through the artifice. Curator: Right? Which just shows, sometimes death's simplicity and truth poke through even the thickest brocade.

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