Albrecht Dürer, Self- Portrait, 1500

Albrecht Dürer: Painter, printmaker, intellectual

Born in Nuremberg in 1471, the son of a goldsmith, Albrecht Dürer was immediately exposed to an artistic environment. Growing up, he must have witnessed on an everyday basis the cultivation of craftmanship and, hence, realized early on its importance. He learned drawing from his father and, probably, how to use the burin. Young Albrecht, however, showed such a great talent for painting, that, instead of treading in his father's footsteps, he went on to train as a painter at a young age. He was very meticulous. He practiced extensively in sketching and produced extremely detailed preparatory drawings, that can be seen underneath the paint. Having the courage to differentiate his path from that of his father, following his talent and, presumably, his passion, attests to a dynamic and ambitious personality. Indeed, he produced a self-portrait at the age of thirteen, two years before he began his official training in painting, as if he already envisioned the fame that his bright future as an artist would bring him.

Nuremberg was a humanist centre at the time. The recent invention of the printing press by Gutenberg, a goldsmith himself, was the means by which humanist ideas spread rapidly. Dürer's godfather transitioned from the goldsmithing craft to that of printmaking as well. Willibald Pirckheimer, one of the most important German humanists, was Dürer's best friend. Dürer had access to his famous library. The extensive correspondence between them reveals the intimacy of their relationship and the genuine emotions of affection and esteem that they had for each other. The circumstances and the social environment that surrounded Albrecht naturally instilled in him the inclination towards humanism as well as the love for printing. Witnessing first-hand the power of prints in his hometown, he was able to discern that this medium would be crucial to the rapid dispersal of his own art as well. Ultimately, his assessment proved to be correct, as he indeed attained fame, so did his engravings, which were being widely copied.

All that humanism promulgated, mainly the importance of the individual and the preeminence of logic and veracity, contributed to a heightened interest towards the sciences and an elevation of the status of the individual author. At the same time, as the renaissance ideas pertaining to the values of antiquity were exemplified in italian art, the artist felt compelled to follow the artistic tradition of visiting Italy, to study the relics of ancient art and witness first-hand the masterpieces of earlier as well as contemporary artists he admired. He did so twice, the first time for several months and the second for about two years, both times spending most of his stay in Venice.

When he was 22 years old, Dürer created his self-portrait again, this time his first known painted one. It is a mysterious self-portrait, because of its symbolic qualities, rendered primarily by the thistle that the artist is portrayed holding and by the inscription next to the date, that reads Things happen to me / As it is written on high. 'Combined with the inscription on the picture next to the date, [...] the thistle could also be seen as a reference to Christ's Passion (or more specifically to the spikes on the crown of thorns)' (Collange, n.d.). Albrecht was very consistent throughout his career with the use of symbolism. Symbols are incorporated in almost all of his works. Most notably, his famous engraving titled Melencolia I is overflown with symbols. An artist who is engaged in symbolism is clearly a thinking artist, who communicates his intellectualism to the audience of his art.

In 1498, at the age of 26, he painted another self-portrait, in three-quarter view, like the previous one. Here again, he documents his age. His image is that of a gentleman, as he wished to be seen. As he had famously expressed to Pirckheimer in their correspondence, in Italy he was perceived as a gentleman, whereas in Germany he feared that he would face contempt. Albrecht's concerns actually had to do with the issue of the status of the artist. In reality, though, his social graces were obvious to others anywhere he was. Well-mannered and humorous at the same time, he was also a gifted speaker and was 'deservedly held a most excellent man' (Richardson et al., 2007, p. 24).

In 1500, just before turning 29 years old, he produces his most iconic self-portrait. Here, for the first time, he abandons the three-quarter view and instead faces the viewer directly. Also for the first time, the language that he uses for the inscription instead of german is latin, the language of the Church and the scholars. In this painting, the allusion to Christ is stronger than ever, as there is an almost complete identification between the Saviour and the artist. The recurring allusions to Christ in his art indicate the artist's metaphysical concerns and his yearning for recognition in posterity.

Dürer is the paradigmatic artist of the Northern Renaissance. He was eager to incorporate the humanistic values into his art and also into his life. He studied rigorously the works of various scholars and reproduced their ideas in his own theoretical treatises about geometry, architecture and the human proportions, enriching them at times with his own observations and beliefs. His varied ideas demonstrate his constructive restlessness, which compelled him to never stop looking for the truth and the ideal in all that was important to him. He chose to turn to theory production when he was older and his health and physical capabilities had deteriorated. It is evident, thus, that he was a persistently creative man, who adapted to the circumstances instead of giving up.

The attempt to define who he really was wholly as a person and not just as an artist would require the evaluation of the evidence that is available regarding his personal life as well. As that evidence is scarce and does not originate from numerous sources, it is impossible to verify it. Any conclusion, thus, would be the product of subjective assessment. From his correspondence with Pirckheimer, one can see that he had a sense of humour. Also, that his relationship with his wife must not have been among his most cherished ones, as the only references to her that survive are the negative ones made by Albrecht. It is worth noting here that the marriage had been arranged in his absence and was without children. Moreover, that Agnes was wealthy and that she helped Albrecht by selling his works on a regular basis and running his workshop when he was away. Regarding again Dürer's psychological makeup, the fact that he witnessed the plague and the loss of his many brothers and sisters must have certainly cast a dark shadow over his emotional core. The central figure of Melencolia I, that is portrayed as consumed by thoughts, with the head in the shadow, while being surrounded by the tools of various crafts and sciences serves as an illustration of the creative genius that Albert was, with his numerous talents, carrying a gloomy weight on his shoulders.

Dürer was fortunate enough to achieve recognition for his talent during his lifetime. As a result, he had the priviledge of securing the patronage of Emperor Maximilian I. While being talented, he was just as practical. Despite being creative and consumed by his ideas, he never lost his grip on reality and recognized the importance of securing patronage. Therefore, after Maximilian's death, he travelled to Aachen, on the occasion of the coronation of the new emperor, Charles V, in order to acquire his patronage. His financial awareness is demonstrated also in his conscious choice of intaglio as a medium. Writing in 1509 to his then-patron Jakob Heller, he declares emphatically: 'I want to turn my attention to engraving and if I had done so hitherto, I would now be 1,000 florins richer' (Richardson et al., 2007, p. 124) It seems that, after all, he succeeded in managing his finances, as he left a notable fortune behind him.

Bibliography

1. Butterfield, A. (2013) Dürer’s Devil Within. [online] The New York Review of Books. Available at http://www.nybooks.com/daily/2013/05/20/durer-devil-within/ [Accessed 10/03/17].

2. Collange, A. (n.d.) Self-Portrait or Portrait of the Artist Holding a Thistle. [online] The Louvre. Available at http://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre-notices/self-portrait-or-portrait-artist-holding-thistle [Accessed 11/11/16].

3. Richardson, C. M., Woods, K. W. and Franklin, M. W. (eds.) (2007) Renaissance Art Reconsidered, An Anthology of Primary Sources, Milton Keynes, The Open University/Malden, Oxford and Carlton, Blackwell Publishing.

4. Web Gallery of Art (n.d.) Humanism and the Reformation in Germany. [online] Available at http://www.wga.hu/tours/german/humanism.html [Accessed 10/03/17].

5. Wikipedia (2016) Albrecht Dürer. [online] Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albrecht_D%C3%BCrer [Accessed 10/03/17].

6. Wikipedia (2016). Dürers Selbstbildnisse. [online] Available at https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%BCrers_Selbstbildnisse [Accessed 10/03/17].

Rogier van der Weyden - The Descent from the Cross, c. 1435

Rogier van der Weyden's Descent from the Cross is a masterpiece that is characterized by a heightened sense of theatricality. The ten figures depicted in the painting resemble a group of actors that have been asked to perform on an unconventional stage. As they are crammed in a confined space that is both narrow and shallow, the painting exudes an unsettling, claustrophobic sense. The emotion that emanates from the intense drama taking place inside is heightened significantly. Furthermore, extreme emotion is portrayed in the physical reaction of the Virgin Mary and the contorted position of mourning of the woman on the right edge (Mary Magdalene). The Virgin's overall position echoes that of Christ, conveying a state of ultimate empathy. Everyone has tears on their face or is extremely sombre. But the expression of the woman on the left edge of the painting (Mary of Clopas) and of the man holding Christ's feet (Joseph of Arimathea or Nicodemus) are the most striking of all, as they are the ones that are currently crying. They are portrayed as consumed with crying, both expressions so lifelike and moving. Mary of Clopas is standing in the corner inconsolable, her eyes closed, her face covered in tears, wiping them, holding her head, with her whole body bent from sorrow, while the man is shown to cannot stop his tears either, his mouth turned downwards, his forehead frowned and filled with protruding veins.

The figures are elongated and the depiction is naturalistic, both in the Early Netherlandish style. Among them, the fainted Virgin Mary stands out, with her blue dress and her ghostly appearence. The continuity with netherlandish art, however, is enriched, as the Virgin's pose was an innovation at the time in the Netherlands. It was an occurrence in the art south of the Alps, with reference to the alleged incident called The Swoon of the Virgin. As it was a contested idea, the Swoon was often depicted covered in an air of ambiguity, so as to be plausible that the Virgin might be depicted as struck with sorrow and supported by others. In this painting, however, the Virgin is shown to be surrendered to gravity, appearing, moreover, paler and more lifeless than the dead Christ Himself.

It is important to keep in mind, also, the size of the painting, when contemplating its effect. The figures are life-sized, a fact that gives the art work an imposing air and also has the effect of making the viewer identifying with the protagonists even more. Taking into consideration all the aforementioned elements, it becomes apparent that invoking emotion is a priority for van der Weyden.

The textures of the skin, the wood and the fabrics are masterfully rendered, through the contrast between light and shadow, the depiction of natural imperfections and the reflection of the light on the golden surfaces. The artist also offers us an amazing demonstration of his talent in creating illusionistic space, by the method of forshortening and by clearly placing his figures in different depths, which he, nonetheless, chooses to subvert with a detail at the top of the painting. The young man on the ladder rests his right hand on the cross while holding with that two of the nails that have been removed from Christ's body. The edge of one of the two long nails is placed in front of the illusionistic wooden frame, thus alerting the viewer of the illusory quality of what is so skillfully created.

 The Descent from the Cross, detail

Why shatter the illusion? Is it a wink addressed to the attentive viewer? Is it a form of compliment towards the viewers, that the artist expects them to possess an open mind and a vivid imagination? Whatever the case may be, Rogier van der Weyden is clearly an intellectual himself, thinking about perception, about the physical world, thinking about his art.

The Descent from the Cross was possibly the central panel of a triptych, which was commissioned by a guild of crossbowmen for a chapel in Leuven. Two small crossbows can be found in the two lower illusionistic spandrels of the painting, but all four spandrels resemble themselves vaguely to crossbows, as well. Christ's and Mary's arms are also placed in a position resembling a bow. All the above are ingenious choices on the part of the artist, as they constitute subtle references to the patron's identity. They are choices that portray him as a shrewd entrepreneur as well as a bold and masterful artist, that daringly customizes the commissioned work, but does so in a manner that adds aesthetic value for every viewer and not only symbolic significance for the patrons.

On a final note, it can be argued that the positions of the arms of the Christ and of the arms of the Virgin Mary together form a diagonal that traverses the heart of the painting and draws the viewer's attention to the left. The line that is formed if we connect Christ's elbows, the Virgin's left elbow and her right wrist, is directed towards the ground, and, particularly, the skull, which happens to be a reminder of the belief that Adam, the first man was buried in the site of Christ's crucifixion. It may, nevertheless, act at the same time as a symbol of death, especially combined with the two particular figures, prompting, thus, the viewers to contemplate their own mortality.

The first time I encountered images of Romina Ressia's works, I thought they were paintings, but Romina Ressia is a photographer. It was the abstract dark backgrounds, the otherworldly air and appearance of the models, that made me think that I had discovered another realist painter, one that specialized in portraits. What is more, the images appeared as realistic depictions, but with the additional quality of that step back from reality that paintings have.

Even if these were paintings, though, they wouldn't be just portraits. They are peculiar, playful, somehow sarcastic, due to the anachronisms, the juxtapositions of elements of different eras. There are models dressed in period costumes holding or using modern-day props that do not even make sense narratively. Props such as an inflated bubble gum, a Donald Duck band-aid, a toy or a snack clash with the gravity displayed by the costume, the background and the expression of the models. Otherwise, an oxygen mask or a racket held in front of the face inspire a disconcerting feeling. In the series Renaissance Brushstrokes, part of the view is blocked by colorful brushstrokes. The model appears enclosed behind the brushstroke, as if, one could argue, she is trapped by colour, or by the act of painting.

The photographer persistently flirts with the representational painting tradition of the past, particularly that of the Renaissance, of the 16th and 17th centuries in the series New Vanitas, of Rococo in the series Portraits in the 18th century, even with that of the Middle Ages when she portrays her Madonnas using gold leaf on photograph, working, thus, in mixed media as well. There are many more art historical references. In New Chiaroscuro, the Portrait of a Ginger Girl appears Rembrandtesque and Hands could have been a painting by Caravaggio. The Ophelia series alludes to the theme of the homonymous painting by the Pre-Raphaelite artist Sir John Everett Millais and, elsewhere, Mona Lisa is referenced several times.

When someone browses through her pictures, though, and after a while begins to think that they have figured out what the artist is all about, they suddenly come across works that subvert this belief. There are some that picture solely objects, such as the ones in the series FISHES & FLOWERS, or others that are characterized by a completely different aesthetic, such as those in the series NOT ABOUT DEATH and What do you hIde?. Romina Ressia is a versatile and promising artist. In her work, the vast notions of art, death, identity, the artist, the past and everything in between are constantly contemplated and revisited.

These are Romina Ressia's answers to my standard questionnaire:

Who is your favorite artist?
I have a lot but to mention only two, I would say Da Vinci & Rembrandt.

Which is your favorite artwork?
In my list of favorites are Anatomy Lesson (Rembrandt), Self Portrait (Rembrandt), La Gioconda (Da Vinci), Las Meninas (Velazquez) & The Liberty leading the people (Delacroix), just to mention a few. I love contemporary art too.

Describe your art in three words. Current but also anachronic & humorous.

What inspires you?
Contemporary society.

Is beauty important in art? Not at all. Art is no more for the eyes but for the mind. It can be beautiful or not.

It is already obvious from her work, but is verified by her answers, that the artist is focused and knows what she wants. Focus is of the uttermost importance not only in art but in life as well. Talent is not enough for an artist. As Ms Ressia is both talented and focused, I am sure that there is plenty to see from her in the future.

Romina Ressia, Woman playing Tennis, Image by Romina Ressia http://www.rominaressiaph.com/5589165/

Let's not keep silent about beauty in art. Stefaan Eyckmans, a contemporary Belgian figurative painter, is a case in point. He is a Flemish realist still life painter that does justice to the painting tradition of his ancestors. Mr Eyckmans kindly answered some questions that I consider fundamental in establishing an artist's approach towards art. As his favourite artist Mr Eyckmans chose none other that Jan Van Eyck, citing also Johannes Vermeer, Giorgio Morandi, Jan Davidszoon de Heem and Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin. When asked which one art work he would choose as his favourite, Mr Eyckmans answered that it would be the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb by Hubert and Jan Van Eyck, while stating that other choices would be the Portrait of Doge Leonardo Loredan by Giovanni Bellini and still lifes by Chardin and others.

When asked what inspires him, Mr Eyckmans responded that he is mostly inspired by 'the light that travels through the composition, the influence the objects have on each other due to this light, the reflections, the soft and colourful shades due to the diffuse daylight'. Finally, the painter was asked if beauty is important in art. Honestly, I chose questions that even if answered with one word, would have a powerful effect. I wanted to make it easier for the artist. But Mr Eyckmans produced quite an eloquent answer:

'Beauty is very important to me and to my art. I refuse to accept the contemporary adagio of the intellectualization of art, where beauty is not important anymore but other things like shocking, being original and conceptual, etc. ... A painting can provoke many emotions but we appreciate it through sensory perception. So beauty relates to ugliness like other sensory perceptions: silence/noise, pleasure/pain, etc. It's the same with music: I refuse to listen to false tones just because the critics tell me there's a reason and story behind that, it hurts my ears and I prefer harmony ... as I prefer looking at beauty as well'.

 Stefaan Eyckmans, Limes in Chinese Bowl

Bring Beauty Back

Art nowadays, and for quite some time, has been purged from sensuality. Popular culture, naturally, overcompensates for that omission. It is almost as if both the artists and the public are bodiless heads. The art world is ruled by an inescapable and implacable intellect. It has become utterly cryptic and antisocial. By taking into consideration the fact that art since its birth as well as during almost all of its course has been inextricably linked to the aesthetic, it is plausible to say that art has ceased to exist. 

Let me tell you a secret: art is kept in the museums. And even if, by exception, any art would be produced today, it should be left to time to determine whether it deserves a place in the museum. All it has become is a hybrid of play and activism. An amusement for the artist as well as the viewer, embedded with ideas, and an act important in itself, that is supposed to bring about social change. There is nothing wrong with art being embedded with ideas, as long as it is visually independent, as it can stand on its own. The art that is prevalent today and has been for several decades cannot exist without the theory, its theory. Being self-explanatory is irrelevant to this art. Moreover, both the artist that produces it and the viewer that consumes it take pride in its ambiguity. It is as if they are members of the same exclusive cult, of which the critic is the high priest, the artist is the cleric and the viewer is the believer.

In modern societies we live inside our heads, and we are unaware of it. To value beauty in art again, first of all, we need to be conscious of that tendency. All that is needed, then, is to reevaluate our priorities regarding art, in its production, its consumption, and its theory. It would, thus, be possible to reconnect with quintessential art. Art that is viscerally beautiful, not cerebrally useful. If only it were possible to bring beauty back, to bring art back...

                                                        Jan Van Eyck, Portrait of a Man, 1433

Born sometime before 1390 presumably in Maaseik, in present-day Belgium, Jan van Eyck lived during the Hundred Years' War. The threat of the pandemic of the Black Death, that had swept away one third of Europe's population, loomed over that era as well. 

Nevertheless, the painter belonged to a privileged environment, that shielded him from the impact of these events. His aristocratic descent, the erudition that he gained from it, combined with his extraordinary talent, gave van Eyck a self-confidence that was demonstrated in fact that he signed some of his works, something that was highly unusual at the time. The distinctive motto that accompanied his signature, 'AIC IXH XAN' had the form of a pun with a double impact. First of all, it is written in byzantine greek characters, stating, thus, his classical education, and, secondly, it corresponds to 'As I can' or 'As Eyck can'. Moreover, the subtle irony of the declaration 'I did what I can', on the frame of a masterpiece, conveys a humorous personality. In the Virgin and Child with Canon van der Paele of 1434-36 and the Arnolfini Portrait of 1434, the artist used another daring device to assert his identity. He included an actual self-portrait, in the form of a reflection on Saint George's armour and on the mirror, respectively. He, thus, closes the eye to the attentive viewer that discovers it, as well as demonstrates an artistic tour de force.

Van Eyck had the privilege to work successively for two monarchs. He was, thus, free from the restrictions of the painters' guilds. Furthermore, he enjoyed freedom to take commissions from other patrons as well. His enormous talent combined with the freedom to do as he pleased with it resulted in a revolutionary oeuvre that changed the fate of painting forever. He painted portraits of members of the growing middle class of the Netherlands, that consisted mainly of merchants. He supported, thus, the dynamic new order of society, but, at the same time, initiated a new dynamic order himself; the new, elevated status of painting and of the artist. Painting was not an important art at the time; at least, it was not as important as sculpture.

Van Eyck's depictions were highly realistic. That effect was achieved by the combination of his superb talent with the properties of his medium, oil painting, which he perfected. His use of the oil painting technique was so sophisticated, that he was mistakenly considered its inventor. He particularly insisted in realistic, naturalistic even, depiction, as is demonstrated by the amount of descriptive detail that is present in his pictures. The depicted textures are rendered in an unparalleled manner, each indicated by its corresponding reflection of light. As far as his sitters are concerned, however, the naturalistic depiction brought an additional quality to his art aside from illusionism. They appeared unidealized, present. Jan van Eyck's sitters were portrayed for who they actually were. He even made a note on the back of a study for the Portrait of the Cardinal Niccolo Albergati that the stubble of the beard should be grey.

Real appearances found their way intact into van Eyck's paintings, creating a sense that everything could be depicted by the painter. Nevertheless, it is still a subversion and a peculiarity that in his pictures the ordinary coexists with the supernatural. In The Virgin and Child with Chancellor Nicolas Rolin of around 1435, for example, one sees the sitter sharing an illusionistic architectural space with the Virgin Mary, the Divine Infant and an angel. Similarly, in The Virgin and Child with Canon van der Paele, the Holy Mother and Child as well as Saint Donatian, Saint George and the deceased Joris van der Paele are pictured coexisting not in a heavenly realm out of this world, but in a thoroughly convincing architectural setting, decorated with columns bearing intricately carved capitals, an elaborate canopy and a lavish oriental carpet, themselves dressed not in an ethereal manner, but in believable, worldly dress, which is rendered in a highly tangible manner. In the peculiar case of the Arnolfini Portrait, the sitter, who presumably is Giovanni di Nicolao Arnolfini, is, as suggested by Margaret L. Koster, possibly portrayed with his wife Costanza Trenta that had died in 1433. Actual individuals side by side with supernatural beings, holy figures paired with ordinary settings and trappings of accentuated materiality, the living with the dead. Jan van Eyck seems to have been highly practical, but deeply mystical at the same time. He boldly created captivating images.

Who were they really? In this blog, an answer to this question will be attempted regarding well-known artists of the past, artists for whom we are provided with many biographies. What will be provided for each artist will not be another biography, but a subjective approach to the quintessence of the particular artist, that is their idiosyncrasy, their unique perception of art and of their role in it, as well as the specific effect that they actually had in the art world.
Present artists will also feature in the blog, with an accompanying interview whenever possible.