Chirurgijnsgilde te Amsterdam, gildepenning van leerling Albertus Hagelman 1690

Editor: Here we have an intriguing little bronze relief – a guild badge, in fact! – made around 1690. It was made to honor Albertus Hagelman who completed his training as a surgeon. What a macabre yet weirdly beautiful object. What jumps out at you, Professor? Curator: Macabre *is* the word, isn’t it? And wonderfully Baroque! Look at that allegorical figure of Death on one side, complete with his scythe and a distinctly nonchalant pose. It’s like a memento mori, shrunk down to fit in your pocket. Almost daring you to forget the impermanence of life – especially fitting, wouldn’t you say, for aspiring surgeons who would witness birth and death daily! What I find especially captivating is how death and healing were so intricately connected. Do you see a hint of satire perhaps? Editor: Definitely. It feels both celebratory and a little ominous. I’m curious about the other side – the coat of arms seems less…confrontational? Curator: Right you are. Coats of arms in this period were so crucial as emblems of civic identity. In many ways this medallion speaks to this very pivotal point, where local municipal identity and a profession like surgery became intertwined! Albertus becoming part of the Surgeons' Guild of Amsterdam *was* a momentous point of civic identity, literally branded into bronze, that is designed to make the statement to his patrons and family "Look! Our boy has made it!". How marvelous! Editor: It's amazing how much cultural meaning can be packed into such a small object. I initially thought the imagery was simply morbid, but hearing you describe the deeper cultural context is really illuminating. Curator: That's the joy of it, isn't it? Art objects act as vessels filled with histories, that speak differently as we ourselves change. Editor: Exactly. Thanks, it's been an enlightening experience.