Virgil and Dante 

Editor: We’re looking at “Virgil and Dante,” a drawing—or rather an engraving—by Gustave Doré. I find it quite haunting, with its dense textures creating such a somber mood. It really sets the stage for, well, a descent. What do you make of this dramatic scene? Curator: Haunting is spot on. For me, Doré's image vibrates with the unknown, doesn’t it? I see an invitation into that disquieting, moonlit space, almost daring us to step off the path into the shadowed woods. That almost painfully detailed technique Doré used…it's meant to make you *feel* the scene, every star, every shadow, almost taste the dust. Does the stillness draw you in, or push you away? Editor: It definitely draws me in, although hesitantly. I almost feel like I shouldn’t be intruding on their journey. Curator: Exactly! It's intimate but vast. Like spying through a keyhole into eternity. Notice how tiny Virgil and Dante are against that immensity? Doré cleverly uses scale to underscore their vulnerability. Consider that, like them, we too are dwarfed by forces we may never comprehend. Editor: I see that now – they look so small against such a huge landscape! It's definitely unsettling, in a way that’s really thought-provoking. Curator: Doré understood how to conjure the emotional landscape through a physical one. That’s why his illustrations for Dante are so powerful and remain relevant, even timeless. Art making is about how what’s around you helps articulate what's *within* you. Editor: I hadn't considered the emotional connection. I see so much more now – thank you!