Ponjaard, pareerstang eindigend in handjes c. 1810 - 1830

Curator: Immediately, what strikes me is how attenuated it is, almost comically elongated, with that curious bend in the blade like a languid question mark forged in steel. Editor: We're looking at a "Ponjaard," or dagger, created roughly between 1810 and 1830. You'll find it here at the Rijksmuseum, a metal sculpture crafted by Jacobus Coenraads. What's really intriguing here is the hilt; instead of a traditional guard, it features tiny hands. Curator: Hands! I missed that completely. That shifts everything, doesn't it? Now it feels less like a weapon and more like a talisman. Editor: Indeed. Hands have carried such weight as symbols. From ancient oaths sealed with handshakes, to the Hand of God. In many cultures, open hands are symbolic of both giving and receiving, promising a divine channel. Curator: So, you see an echo of, what, offering or benediction in these miniature hands adorning a weapon meant for taking life? It's wickedly ironic! Almost playful, isn't it? Editor: Or perhaps, a reminder of responsibility? Maybe the artisan meant for this to evoke that humanity is a shared condition, even in conflict? It is impossible to say for sure, though. The blade is patinated, old. Its origin obscure to our contemporary gaze. Curator: Absolutely. I am just lost in thought picturing the artist hunched over the pommel. Imagining Coenraads' decision to choose this design. He could have opted for roaring lions, eagles with piercing gazes, the typical tropes. Instead, we get...hands, reaching toward a purpose beyond mere offense. Editor: I agree. The bend of the blade contributes as well, doesn’t it? The dagger seems to almost resist its own purpose. Curator: Precisely! It is a piece that resists the single interpretation. A lethal thing pretending otherwise. Thank you for the enlightenment. Editor: And thank you for focusing on its curious design. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I might need to re-evaluate my relationship with sharp objects.