De tweede dwaze maagd c. 1470 - 1491

Curator: This engraving, created by Martin Schongauer circa 1470-1491, is entitled "The Second Foolish Virgin." It's part of a series, housed right here at the Rijksmuseum. What strikes you immediately? Editor: An austere elegance, certainly. A contained grief perhaps? There’s a solemn weight to her figure, a kind of resignation etched into those precisely rendered lines. The fall of the fabric creates these powerful diagonal vectors across the composition. Curator: Yes, Schongauer had a way with drapery, didn't he? Each fold seems to tell a story of its own. As a leading printmaker of the Northern Renaissance, his skill in engraving allowed for incredible detail and texture. Editor: Precisely. Note the controlled use of hatching and cross-hatching to define the form. Look how Schongauer varies the density and direction of his lines to simulate volume and light across the subject’s body. The material almost appears to breathe! But is there any visual counterpoint here, anything disrupting this mood? Curator: Good question. Notice the extinguished lamp she carries? And the discarded wreath at her feet, a potent symbol of her lost opportunity. She's one of the virgins who failed to bring enough oil for their lamps, missing the bridegroom’s arrival. Talk about high stakes! It does remind me of that time I forgot to charge my phone before giving a lecture – missed so many calls! Editor: Indeed! That sense of unpreparedness underscores the artwork’s message. It’s not merely about divine judgement. Consider this from a structuralist perspective: she becomes an embodiment of belated recognition, highlighting the risks of insufficient foresight. But what do you make of her downcast gaze and almost casual grasp of her robes? Curator: It’s as if the gravity of the situation hasn't fully dawned on her. A touch of nonchalance, or maybe even denial. Which resonates deeply, if I'm being honest! Life is about trade-offs and being in denial occasionally. But ultimately, I see this "Foolish Virgin" as a mirror reflecting humanity’s foibles – a poignant commentary on human nature, frozen in ink. Editor: Beautifully put. And in that reflection, Schongauer's precise lines don’t just depict form; they trace the contours of regret. I'd like to know which other stories can we explore in that precise moment frozen for all time.