Juno and the Peacock 1770

Editor: We're looking at Angelica Kauffmann's "Juno and the Peacock", an etching from 1770. It's quite small and delicate. There’s something melancholic about the figure, her gaze seems so distant. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Melancholic, yes, beautifully put. I see Juno caught in a quiet moment, doesn’t she seem like she's almost sighing? Forget the queen of the gods—I think it’s the subtle drama Kauffmann manages to express with such delicate lines, the shading on her face. Look at how Kauffmann has rendered her clothing—you feel the weight and drape of it. What do you make of the peacock, almost obscured? Editor: It's as if the peacock is a decorative element instead of a majestic symbol, right? I didn't even really *notice* the peacock at first. Curator: Exactly! Perhaps that's the point. Juno's traditional symbols almost fade into the background of her introspection. Maybe Kauffmann is musing on the burden of power, even divine power, stripping the narrative and elevating emotional introspection. Don't you think she seems to be in thought. Does she embrace her regality? Is she bored? Editor: That's really interesting. I was so focused on the sadness I didn’t think about the possibility of the figure considering her role, that burden. Curator: Art is sneaky like that. And Kauffmann was quite canny. Imagine her, in a world dominated by male artists, embedding such complex, quiet reflections on power in a neoclassical frame. What do you take away from seeing it now? Editor: I appreciate the piece much more. It’s more than just a pretty drawing; it’s got a point of view about how roles shape the people playing them. Curator: I'll remember to look closer at her clothes. Thanks!