Lancers on the March 1831

Curator: Nicolas Toussaint Charlet’s “Lancers on the March,” created around 1831. It's a lithograph— a print—currently residing here at the Art Institute of Chicago. What jumps out at you? Editor: It feels... unsettled. Almost like a snapshot of a moment caught between the calm before the storm and the storm itself. The wind in those trees gives it a really immediate energy, even though it’s a historical subject. Curator: Indeed! It's remarkable how Charlet uses line and composition to evoke a sense of movement, a kind of contained chaos. Note how the eye is drawn through diagonals from the ground up through the spears towards that turbulent mass of foliage. It mirrors, I think, the unsettled political mood of post-Napoleonic France. Editor: You know, the way the light falls feels so temporary and the way he scratches away at the image is like how memories get chipped away by time. But the way those riders persist. Were they dreaming of empire, of glory? Or were they just bone-weary from fighting, hoping for the next quiet moment in which they could rest their heads? Curator: Precisely, there's a poignancy there—those Lancers, on the one hand, represent the imposing image of France and its army; the kind that was meant to bring about change throughout the world. On the other, this is not your epic, heroic battle scene; this is an interlude—a glimpse into their humanity—and I agree—a fleeting instant. Editor: Thinking about the romantic landscape genre of that time, so invested in expressing emotions using imagery like wind, water, and weather. You have all this human form with these rough-and-ready individuals, almost merging them into the greater landscape, both acting as metaphors of inner mental states, but also external sociopolitical changes! It feels potent! Curator: It’s so true! And his ability to intertwine this potent sentiment with that kind of immediate mark-making really hits home; especially when we, as viewers, stand outside all of that time, peering into the distant past. Editor: This piece feels like a really complex echo of all those grand paintings of battles we might expect, and at the same time something else entirely: it reminds us that heroism can be quiet; can be human.