The Weight of Everyone

Three faces, a forest of curling hair, and enough emotional baggage to require a separate carriage.

At the top, a horned figure bows his head, presiding over two faces pressed together beneath him. Their eyes are lowered, their expressions heavy. Nobody appears interested in making conversation.

Michelangelo comes to mind in the sculptural modeling of the faces, especially the way light draws cheekbones, brows, and noses out of the darkness. There's a little of Gustave Doré in those turbulent, engraved-looking shadows, and something of the Mannerists in the crowded anatomy and improbable arrangement of bodies.

The composition works like a slow avalanche. Every sweeping curve pulls your eye downward, from the horns through the tangled hair to the two faces nearly touching. The monochrome palette makes the highlights feel carved from stone, while the deep blacks squeeze out nearly every inch of breathing room.

There's tenderness in the closeness of these faces, but also exhaustion. They seem to be carrying something together, though whether it's grief, guilt, or simply one another remains beautifully unresolved.

Some families really should consider separate vacations.