A Tyger 1790

Editor: Okay, next up we have John Murphy’s engraving, "A Tyger," from 1790, currently residing at the Met. There's something intensely watchful about this tiger—the gaze is incredibly piercing, it makes you wonder what it sees, you know? How do you interpret that kind of direct stare? Curator: It’s almost unnerving, isn't it? The darkness frames it, and really pushes the idea of confronting the sublime, or perhaps primal fear itself. Murphy isn't just depicting an animal; it's more like evoking raw, untamed power, the tiger's dark majesty against an inky abyss... Have you ever felt that way about, say, contemporary urban landscapes, that potent mix of allure and fear? Editor: I can definitely see that connection! It is intense! Now that you point it out, maybe that's why the gaze is so arresting because there’s nothing but darkness and the tiger! You can’t look away from that penetrating gaze! What’s that story about "Tyger, Tyger, burning bright?" Is there something more than nature? Curator: You’re on the money. Murphy perfectly captures the tiger in William Blake’s poem, "The Tyger." Like in Blake’s vision of the creature, Murphy hints at something divine but utterly indifferent and terrifying in nature itself... It really makes you wonder about humanity’s place, in nature and what scares us in both our reality and creative reflection of our selves... Editor: Wow. Seeing it connected to that poem is making it even more powerful for me, suddenly... The raw power is almost humbling. Thanks so much for that perspective! Curator: My pleasure! I hope it sparked some creative thinking... Perhaps a poem of your own about power, the animal gaze and creative divinity is next?