Reproductie van een geschilderd portret van Thomas de Quincey door Sir J.W. Gordon before 1886

Curator: Looking at this open book, we see a reproduction of a portrait of Thomas de Quincey. It’s based on a painting by Sir J.W. Gordon and rendered as a print before 1886, using photography and engraving on paper. Editor: He seems rather forlorn, doesn't he? It’s all grayscale, which amplifies the melancholy. The way he's posed in his chair makes him appear very small inside his own narrative. Curator: Considering De Quincey's own life, that sense of melancholy makes perfect sense. Think of his Confessions of an English Opium-Eater; a powerful, yet tragic life marked by addiction and introspection. This portrait could symbolize a pivotal moment of internal reflection. Editor: Ah, yes, a reflection indeed! It mirrors the self-imposed isolation found within those written confessions. I picture him contemplating life, just like Hamlet with his skull! But also, something about the reproduction, perhaps its slightly faded tone, gives it a feeling of something precious and hidden. Curator: Absolutely! This positioning of his image, inside of a book and alongside printed text, frames his portrait literally and figuratively with a specific context. The surrounding page—likely containing text about the art of conversation—adds an intriguing layer. Was de Quincey someone who was gifted with it, or found it a chore? Editor: Or did his most powerful dialogues exist inside his head, and thus reflected in this wistful stare? It brings out the conflict within that kind of individual genius... Curator: Indeed. His portrait as part of a printed book encourages questions around access to knowledge, personal narratives, and who gets memorialized—aspects which always carried intense social and political weight, then and now. Editor: Right. He stares back, a ghost on a page. Now, though, I see it also about fragility and remembrance… Thank you for offering that extra lens to appreciate him with!