Erik Lam 1646

Curator: Here we have an engraving dating from 1646 entitled “Erik Lam.” It's part of the collection here at the SMK, Statens Museum for Kunst. Editor: Well, my initial impression is… there’s a quiet sadness about him. The details in his face—that almost downturned mouth and shadowed eyes—create such a feeling of melancholy, even with that crown perched jauntily on his head. Curator: What interests me are the lines, the precise labour required to create this print. Think of the engraver's skill transferring an image to the plate, line by line, revealing character, texture, and even regal stature, despite its relatively small scale. It’s craft as historical record. Editor: Exactly! It's like catching a fading whisper from the past. The limited tones force the eye to concentrate. See how the cape almost camouflages with the patterned oval frame... like he's willingly withdrawing from view? Curator: And don’t overlook the role of prints such as this, widely distributed and available, versus a painted portrait owned by a noble few. Consider this print's accessibility; how did this engraving help construct Erik Lam's image for different segments of 17th-century society? Editor: Yes, this piece feels…intimate, yet detached. A public king filtered through the sensitivity of one hand rendering the mark of another ruler, eras earlier. There's something truly captivating in how such tangible, grounded material manages to feel ethereal. Curator: Absolutely. Focusing on the processes, the physical act of making art, keeps us anchored. It makes sure that in moments of inspired interpretations, such as yours, that we remember art-making as material, not magic. Editor: But maybe… sometimes, it’s a little bit of both? Regardless, "Erik Lam," even in reproducible form, stirs quiet waters of thought. It stays with you.