The Newborn 1649

Editor: We're looking at Georges de la Tour's "The Newborn" from 1649, rendered in oil paint. The darkness feels so thick, like you could stir it with a spoon. It's illuminated so dramatically, though; almost theatrical. What is your reading of this work? Curator: Oh, it whispers tales of intimacy and everyday miracles, doesn't it? The single candle flame…it's not just providing light, it's illuminating an entire world. La Tour wasn't simply painting what he saw; he was painting what he *felt.* What does that light evoke in you, looking at it? Editor: A sense of quiet awe, I guess. It feels…sacred, but in a very ordinary setting. It's not a grand cathedral, just a room, and a baby. Curator: Exactly! The Baroque period was fascinated by light and shadow, the *chiaroscuro* effect. But La Tour took it a step further, almost spiritualizing it. Do you think it's just about realism, or is he saying something more about life and mystery? Editor: I'd say definitely more than realism, there's something about their faces, their expressions. Almost…timeless. The light certainly brings that out. I'm going to think twice about light in painting from now on. Curator: Wonderful! It makes you wonder what other secrets lay hidden in the shadows, ready to be revealed by the right kind of light, doesn't it? For me, I think, this Baroque master perfectly seized everyday life's intimate side. What do you think you will hold in mind about this masterpiece?