ceramic
dutch-golden-age
ceramic
stoneware
ceramic
Copyright: Rijks Museum: Open Domain
Editor: So this is a ceramic plate, "Plate with the coat of arms of Engel de Ruyter," made sometime between 1661 and 1683. It seems unassuming at first glance – almost dark and earthy. What strikes you about this piece? Curator: The materiality here is everything. Look closely at the stoneware: it isn't about illusionism. It’s about the inherent qualities of the clay, the labor involved in shaping and firing it. That coat of arms pressed into the surface... it speaks to the rising merchant class in the Dutch Golden Age, doesn't it? Consumption becomes intertwined with identity. How does the production of everyday objects mirror social structures, do you think? Editor: I suppose the act of creating this plate elevates a functional object to a status symbol, revealing how craft intersects with the elite? Curator: Precisely. The very dark stoneware itself speaks to function – plates used at dinner, for sustenance. But incising it with a personal coat of arms completely alters its status. The plate, as material, goes from functional, mundane, into something declaring the status of a person: Engel de Ruyter. Even in dining, one finds this performative element, right? The material choices – the dark clay, the process of firing – how might these influence our understanding of 17th-century Dutch society? Editor: So, it is about the labor, the resources, and how a simple material transforms into something charged with meaning? I hadn't thought of it that way initially. Curator: Exactly. And it prompts questions: who made this plate? What were their working conditions? The answers offer glimpses into the economic and social realities of the time. Editor: I see. It’s a fascinating shift in perspective, considering the material and the labor behind it as integral to the piece's narrative. Thanks for helping me look deeper.
Comments
Michiel de Ruyter ate from this plate when he was at sea, so it was claimed in the 19th century. That the famous admiral would use such a plain tin plate only added to his heroic stature. It is unlikely, however, that the plate was really his; the engraved family coat of arms does not belong to him, but rather to his son Engel.
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