St George and the Dragon VI: The Princess Tied to a Tree 1866

Editor: Here we have Edward Burne-Jones’ “St George and the Dragon VI: The Princess Tied to a Tree,” from 1866, rendered in oil. There's such a melancholic, almost resigned air about the princess. What captures your attention most about this work? Curator: I find myself drawn to the material realities behind the image. Consider the cloth itself – that weighty, draped fabric of her dress. What dyes were used? How were they sourced, and who labored to produce it? That texture, achieved with oil paint, invites us to ponder the Victorian textile industry, the social structures that supported such detailed production. Editor: So you're saying to consider the painting less as a romanticized narrative and more as a product of its time, made by laborers? Curator: Precisely. And think about the very canvas. Linen, likely; where was it grown, woven, and stretched? Each material, from the pigment to the frame, tells a story of extraction, manufacturing, and the commodification of artistic labor. It subtly challenges that ideal of a singular, divinely inspired artist. The almost ethereal whiteness of the Princess’ dress against the dark woods underscores a class division and hints at labor hierarchies involved in achieving the effects we admire. Editor: That reframes it completely! Instead of focusing on St. George's heroism, we're questioning the material and economic context that brought this image into existence. It is fascinating. Curator: Exactly. By focusing on the materials and their histories, we expose the web of social relations embedded in what we often perceive as simply "art." What labour went into portraying labour here? Editor: It’s like peeling back the layers, moving from the mythical subject to the very real conditions of its creation. I’ll certainly see Pre-Raphaelite works differently from now on.