Triumphal car from the marriage of Ferdinand de' Medici and Christine of Lorraine 1589

Editor: We're looking at a print from 1589 titled "Triumphal car from the marriage of Ferdinand de' Medici and Christine of Lorraine" by Cherubino Alberti, housed at the Met. The delicate lines of the engraving make it look so intricate and detailed, but the subject itself feels kind of…over the top. I mean, a triumphal car just for a wedding? What's your take on this piece? Curator: Ah, "over the top"! I adore that. That's precisely what these Medici spectacles were *designed* to be, wouldn't you say? Imagine the city square erupting in orchestrated chaos, everyone scrambling to catch a glimpse. What better way to announce not only love, but the consolidation of power? I look at it and feel almost dizzy. This print is more than just a record; it's a whisper of the sheer *volume* of Renaissance pageantry. I see it almost like sheet music. Think of the actual event— the roar of the crowd, the sweat on the performers’ brows…What do you hear when *you* look at it? Editor: I hear…money! Lots and lots of money being thrown around. I guess it makes sense as a display of power, like you said. Did they actually drive these things through the streets? Curator: Absolutely. Imagine being a peasant and witnessing that lumbering, gilded beast rolling past! What a message! You'd think the very earth was shaking in their honor! It’s strategic theatre on wheels, wouldn’t you say? And did you notice how everything, even down to the carefully etched lines, is screaming "harmony, order, divine right"? It's almost suffocating, isn't it? Editor: It kind of is. I definitely see it differently now. More than just a drawing; it’s a propaganda machine! Curator: Precisely. A snapshot of a society wrestling with power, love, and image—one where even a wedding became a stage. So very potent.