Narcissus bij fontein 1648 - 1664

Curator: Standing before us is "Narcissus by the Fountain," an engraving made by Cornelis van Dalen the Younger between 1648 and 1664, now held in the Rijksmuseum's collection. Editor: There's a certain mournful stillness to this. The almost monochrome rendering feels heavy, like it’s steeped in melancholy. He doesn’t look at the water like he desires his own reflection, instead as if he already knows exactly how this will turn out. There is such heavy disappointment. Curator: Indeed. Van Dalen uses the stark contrast of the engraving technique to great effect. Note the carefully articulated musculature of Narcissus, set against the detailed yet somber backdrop. The interplay of light and shadow adds significant dramatic weight, underscoring the psychological depth of the scene, but there are formal imbalances in the background that give it this overall weight. Editor: It's the lack of eye contact. He's not truly *seeing* himself. The pose is one of exhaustion rather than adoration. A quiet, slow, creeping dread, that is his face of sorrow, that seems much more powerful to me, not as some dramatic finale but the understanding and acceptance that there isn't anything else coming his way. Curator: Precisely! That sense of resigned inevitability is beautifully captured. Semiotically, we might read Narcissus' posture, averted gaze, and surrounding details, as potent symbols of mortality and self-awareness—a preordained trajectory if you will. The inclusion of the dog, though rather subtly done, invites comparison of an innocence lost in humanity as well, or even the ever presence of a familiar bond broken over vanity. Editor: The dog *does* seem sad too; dogs often feel these kinds of things more deeply than we even imagine they do. It looks to me as though it knows what the price of everything will be. I am unsure of it as a reflection on Narcissus as much as its own warning. In a narrative of death we still find something loyal to be found with what little bit of this man is. It speaks as another sadness to what a mirror must find so much beauty in and for a viewer who is ready to drown himself for even that to exist. It's quietly brilliant to show this to me! Curator: A perceptive insight. It is quite clear van Dalen, here, achieves much more than merely depicting a mythological episode; he distills human complexities to a haunting moment of solitary self-reckoning, or an even quieter sorrow shared with those around even us, even if only one truly understands the final ending. Editor: Exactly, the quiet weight of loneliness just before the big, irreversible transformation... that’s what lingers with me. I hope the poor hound fares better afterwards.