Plattegrond van Fribourg, 1726 1726

Curator: Isn't it fascinating? We are looking at a 1726 etching and ink drawing, an anonymous plan of Fribourg, Switzerland, that now resides in the Rijksmuseum collection. Editor: My initial thought is, "Wow, that’s a lot of lines!" There’s such meticulous detail – it's almost hypnotic to gaze into that intricate rendering. Curator: Indeed. This kind of city plan serves a practical and political purpose. Consider the context: Fribourg, a strategic city, its defenses prominently displayed. It's about power, control, and civic pride. Look at how the fortifications are emphasized. Star-shaped! Utterly Baroque. Editor: It's beautiful, but seeing it from this perspective, as an abstracted geometry, it’s also oddly unsettling. All these lines defining walls, fields, even nature, implying ownership. Was it intended to celebrate, or to warn? Or both? Curator: Probably a bit of both, really. These weren't just maps; they were instruments of governance, of defining boundaries in an age of shifting empires and territorial disputes. Etching, being easily reproducible, meant this image, this representation of Fribourg’s strength, could be disseminated widely. Editor: The cityscape, as you said, with its imposing walls, contrasted so starkly against the wilder surrounding nature—the mountains. Curator: See how everything seems organised with military precision, everything has a role and place? Even the way the roads cut through the lands; it's less about organic growth, and more about strategic utility, access and defense. Editor: Looking at it now, I'm less taken by the intricacy, and more aware of the subtle tension baked into its composition. Curator: Absolutely, and the detail is remarkable. Even without color, the contrast is there: civilized domain and open wilderness. I hope our listeners have been drawn into Fribourg's story as much as we have. Editor: I am sure they have. I've had my assumptions nicely challenged today. Time always gives things an extra, haunting edge.