William Hogarth, The Sleeping Congregation

I'm afraid I don't come across many people who know the works of William Hogarth (1697-1764), and those who do will tend to dismiss him as either a prudish moralizer or a snarky cynic. That's a shame, because I have long admired how his paintings and engravings can combine a profound sense of right and wrong with a comical and irreverent streak, such that I don't know whether to laugh or cry about his subtle observations on the human condition. 

He wasn't afraid to point out the greed and depravity of established customs, thereby challenging the viewer to examine his own conscience. By pointing out how quick we are to mess things up, he inspires me to get it right. 

I will be forever grateful to a college professor, a true gentleman of the old school, who was kind enough to guide me through so many pieces by Hogarth, explaining all the historical references and literary allusions. When he offered our class a library tour to view some of the prints, I was the only one of sixty students who showed up. We had a grand time. 

If anyone ever asks, I suggest starting with something simple and immediately relatable. You don't have to be a churchgoer to understand how some people are enamored of their own voices, while all the rest of us are expected to be in awe of all the condescending platitudes. Think of this painting the next time you are forced into a committee meeting, for example, and time yourself to see how long you can stay awake. 

—10/2002 

William Hogarth, The Sleeping Congregation (1728)