Jean-François Millet’s The Angelus (1857–59) is, at first glance, simple. Yet the painting’s power lies in how it sanctifies the ordinary. In the fading light of evening, a man clasps his cap and lowers his head.

Beside him, a woman joins her hands in quiet prayer.

There is no theatre here, no grand gestures or glowing halos. A bell tolls quietly from the steeple on the horizon — the Angelus — calling the faithful to afternoon prayer.

The woman has risen from her knees, the man has plunged his fork into the soil for this moment of repose.

The painting is monumental, despite being physically small (just 22 by 26 inches), owing to the full-length figures set against the high horizon line.

The effect is heightened by the silhouetting of the pair against the waning sunlight.

The painting is of people who were barely above the line of destitution, yet depicts them with an elevated, supreme air of dignity.

Some say the painting is sentimental, some say it’s profoundly moving, or a moment suspended between work and rest. What do you think?

Email us with your thoughts and a suggestion for the next picture of the month: marketing@sothebysinstitute.com.

Image: Jean-François Millet, L’Angélus, entre 1857 et 1859, huile sur toile, H. 55,5 × L. 66,0 cm, Legs Alfred Chauchard, 1910, © Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Patrice Schmidt