Bad met meerminnen 1772 - 1779

Curator: Oh my, what have we here? It's rather sterile, yet undeniably elegant in its own way. Editor: We're looking at an engraving entitled "Bath with Mermaids," made sometime between 1772 and 1779. The piece resides here at the Rijksmuseum, of course. Curator: It's…clinical, almost like a blueprint. Is this neoclassical restraint pushed to its absolute limit? Where’s the life, the pulse, the sheer exuberance? Editor: It is intriguing, isn't it? I find a powerful statement in the precision, the deliberate lack of ornamentation. Consider the mermaids—they're less creatures of whimsy and more architectural elements. Almost like caryatids supporting the central fountain. Curator: They seem oddly detached, don't they? Like the idea of myth, rendered emotionless and devoid of connection. Editor: Perhaps the piece speaks to a certain philosophical detachment, a desire to transcend earthly pleasures through the pursuit of perfect form? Though maybe I’m being overly generous. Curator: You do tend to romanticize these things, love. Even the medium contributes: print is inherently about conveying something in a repeatable, universal way. I believe this bathtub, with its rigorous Neoclassical aesthetic, served to communicate, at least in principle, ideals of hygiene and domestic decorum, the new bourgeoisie’s aspirations for cleanliness. Editor: It feels like more than mere aspirational hygiene to me. Doesn't it whisper something about order conquering chaos? Curator: Indeed, it embodies that shift from the baroque fluidity toward clean lines that would dominate the era. The print medium, in that sense, becomes very interesting: easily produced, reproducible, and readily consumed. Its distribution no doubt further solidified such values among a growing middle class. Editor: Hmm, quite possibly. You’ve brought it down to earth, iconographically speaking, I'll give you that! For me though, the engraving style imbues it with a ghost-like detachment from anything tangible. I look, I study, I wonder.