Bombardement van Le Havre, 1694 1700 - 1735

Editor: We're looking at "Bombardement van Le Havre, 1694," likely made between 1700 and 1735 by an anonymous artist. It seems to be a print or engraving on paper, possibly with watercolor and ink, depicting a bird's-eye view of a city under naval attack. I'm struck by how meticulously detailed it is, despite its small scale. The sheer number of ships is quite imposing. What captures your attention most in this piece? Curator: Oh, I'm completely drawn into its cartographic poetry. Maps are never just about geography; they're about power, perspective, and even propaganda. See how the city, rendered in those warm reds, seems almost idealized, while the overwhelming force bearing down upon it is arrayed in ordered ranks? I wonder, did the artist intend to convey the strength of the attacking fleet, or perhaps, the resilience of the city itself, presented like a carefully laid-out jewel? Editor: That's interesting, I hadn’t considered the potential propaganda aspect. The orderly fleet versus the "jewel-like" city. Do you think the style -- almost naive in its precision -- plays into that? Curator: Absolutely! It’s that Baroque love of detail combined with what feels like a slightly flattened perspective. Everything is present, meticulously rendered. It's as if the artist wants to inventory not just the event, but the potential for glory or devastation inherent in it. And consider the timeframe – some years *after* the bombardment. This isn't reportage, it's almost... myth-making. What do *you* think it whispers to us? Editor: I think it highlights how even seemingly objective representations of events can be loaded with intention and bias, and I like your view on cartographic poetry too. It reframed how I see maps in general. Curator: Ah, then perhaps we’ve both navigated a little closer to understanding. Isn't that what art – and a good map – should do? Show us new territories, not just on a page, but in our minds?