Geboorte van 's weerelds Heyland 1761 - 1804

Editor: Here we have "Geboorte van 's weerelds Heyland," or "Birth of the World's Saviour," an etching made sometime between 1761 and 1804. The print is divided into these eight little scenes… almost like a comic strip about the birth of Jesus. The overall mood, though, feels surprisingly… reserved? Considering the subject matter. What strikes you when you look at it? Curator: Reserved is a lovely word! It's like looking at a well-worn family bible. Each tiny panel holds a story, meticulously etched in lines that seem to tremble with devotion. The overall effect feels both intensely personal and part of something much grander, doesn't it? I find myself drawn to the composition—these little boxes create such intimacy, yet their sequential arrangement invites a narrative journey. Where does your eye go first? Editor: Probably to the angel in the top left, with that beam of light, or maybe to the nativity scene at the bottom of the first column… But then, wait, why is there a scene of what looks like… soldiers slaying babies? Curator: Ah, yes, that's the Massacre of the Innocents. Remember, this isn't just about a joyful birth; it's also about the darkness that confronts that light. What do you think the artist might be saying by including such a violent image in the overall story? I feel like it is supposed to amplify our need for this saviour’s entrance. Editor: I see your point. The contrast makes the whole thing feel heavier, more complex. It’s not just a feel-good story. Curator: Exactly. It’s a story etched in shadow and light, quite literally. That dance of darkness and divinity—that's what really sticks with me. Thanks, this piece has gotten my head brimming over with imagery, too! Editor: I never would have picked up on that darkness without you pointing it out. I love that!