Fox Hunt 1671

Editor: Here we have Richard Gaywood's "Fox Hunt," an etching and engraving from 1671, currently at the Rijksmuseum. It feels almost like a stage play, with the characters posed just so. I'm particularly drawn to the intricate details of the landscape. What strikes you about it? Curator: The piece is like a fever dream isn't it? You're chasing after something wild, exciting...but at what cost? The poem etched beneath is delightfully cynical—the fox’s death pleases both countryside *and* court, which lays bare how the bloodsport blurs class lines, doesn't it? It’s like everyone gets a kick from the chase. Editor: I hadn't considered that. It is a bit unsettling, but also maybe just honest? What about the landscape? Curator: Oh, that dense tangle of trees and the oddly static sky…it speaks to a sort of controlled chaos. This print isn't just about a hunt, but about power, dominance, the strange thrill of pursuit and that oddly unsettling need to tame the untamable... It's almost performative, like everyone is keenly aware they are putting on a spectacle for onlookers—which they were of course, if you could buy this. Does that resonate with you at all? Editor: Definitely! I guess it's not just about animals chasing each other, but about people playing roles. So much hidden beneath the surface. Curator: Exactly! What initially appears as a straightforward depiction of a fox hunt unfolds, upon closer inspection, into a multi-layered reflection on human nature itself.