Valentine 1874

Curator: Today we're looking at "Valentine," an enchanting watercolor print dating back to 1874. Its artist, though unknown, has crafted a scene rich in detail and narrative intrigue, currently housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Editor: Wow, it's like a dream sequence or a play unfolding on a tiny stage. I get this immediate feeling of warmth, perhaps a tad absurd, with the little king and that roast… it’s all quite theatrical. Curator: Indeed, there's a deliberate theatricality in its composition. Notice the careful arrangement of figures and the proscenium-like framing, a strategy that directs our eye and highlights specific elements like the king on his tiny stage and the procession carrying a boar’s head. The colours are subtly modulated, mostly pale hues creating a dreamlike atmosphere Editor: Absolutely, that muted palette feels like looking through old glass or a faded memory. I’m struck by the contrast between the seriousness of the occasion—are those trumpeters?—and the utter ridiculousness of it all. What’s with the miniature King, and the goose motifs on everyone’s tunics? Is this satire? Curator: One might certainly argue for satirical undertones. The positioning of the figures in relationship to the presentation of what appears to be the main course prompts many considerations about symbolic readings involving power dynamics and festive rituals, and the inscription adds another layer of complexity: "May good digestion wait on appetite." Editor: That inscription seals the deal. It's pure commentary on gluttony, ceremony, the ridiculousness of courtly life...It's fascinating how the softness of the watercolors contrasts with such sharp social critique. Also, something in the handmade nature, the watercolor bleed gives this some vulnerability. It’s weird, delicate and a little bit crude all at once. Curator: An astute observation. That crudeness underscores the formal balance found between artistic rendering and compositional elements, suggesting an interplay between elegance and unrefined reality. The artist has made us see more. Editor: I'm left wondering who this artist was and why they chose watercolors and coloured pencils to make a fairly biting social commentary. What hidden narratives were they trying to illuminate, one smudge and bleed at a time? I'm glad that it survived until today. Curator: And so, by interrogating form and subject, we are led back to art and social criticism in a manner that hopefully will be useful for those trying to unravel similar artistic puzzles from the past.