Alberti’s Window

I introduced Jan van Eyck to my students about a week ago, but I haven’t stopped thinking about him since. It’s known that van Eyck (depicted in a supposed self-portrait, The Man with the Red Turban, 1433, on right) worked as court painter for Philip the Good, Duke of Burgandy. This position was extremely advantageous for van Eyck, and essentially helped the artist to develop an individual reputation (as opposed to many unknown artists, who were involved in collaborative artistic workshops which were regulated by the local guilds).

We know a little about van Eyck’s duties at Philip’s court. For example, the artist was sent in an embassy which was charged with the duty of requesting Isabella of Portugal’s hand in marriage to Philip. But I wish I knew more about the paintings that van Eyck produced for Philip the Good. Unfortunately, none of the paintings survive; the only extant works by van Eyck were produced for other, private patrons.¹ (I assume that all of these Philip-the-Good-paintings were destroyed in the iconoclastic riots of the 16th century, but I have not come across a comprehensive discussion of how/why these works no longer exist. That being said – if anyone could point me to specific information on this topic, I’d be most grateful!).

I also wish that we knew more information about Jan van Eyck’s brother, the painter Hubert van Eyck. I think the paucity of information is rather surprising, given how much information is available about Jan. What do know, however, is that a “Master Hubert” was paid to paint panels in churches in both 1409 and 1413, and it seems likely that this painter is referring to Jan’s brother (believe it or not, Hubert wasn’t a terribly common name back then!).

There is only one definitive work by Hubert which survives: the Ghent altarpiece (1432, on left, see version of the altarpiece with closed wings here). Yep – the work which is touted as a masterpiece by Jan van Eyck (and for good reason, nonetheless), was actually begun by Hubert, as noted by a contemporary inscription (dated 6 May 1432, the date of the altarpiece’s dedication).² According to the inscription, the altarpiece was finished by Jan, “‘[Hubert’s] brother, second in art'” at the request of patron Jodocus Vijd.² It appears that Hubert’s death left the work unfinished: the inscription suggests that large areas of at least the lower layers of paint could be seen at the time of Hubert’s passing.³

Wait – you’re saying that you haven’t ever heard of Hubert and his role in the Ghent altarpiece? I’m not surprised. With the “cult of the artist-genius” so prominent in art (and art history textbooks), it makes sense that people would shy away from (or ignore?) a discussion of Hubert. Mentioning any artistic collaboration would diminish the idea that Jan was a solitary master, a genius beyond equal. This idea ties in with my earlier discussion of Jef Vanderveken, the 20th century copyist who painted a new panel on the Ghent altarpiece (after “The Just Judges” panel was stolen in 1934). Poor Jef and Hubert. They both are relatively forgotten, having been lost in the mystic shadow which art history has cast for Jan van Eyck.

School is wrapping up for the quarter, and my eyes are tired of looking at dozens and dozens of student papers. This evening I thought I’d have change of scenery by looking at a watercolor that I discovered recently: Dürer’s Virgin Among a Multitude of Animals (1503, shown right). Isn’t it lovely? Here are a couple of thoughts about the painting:

• I really like the interpretion that this painting is a Christian version of the ancient “Master of the Animals” motif. However, unlike ancient depictions which show deities or heroes showing power over animals (see one example at the end of this post), Dürer depicts the Christ child as the hero (shown at the center the painting).
• Given that this is a Northern Renaissance painting, it is unsurprising that the animals surrounding the Virgin have symbolic meaning. Even the stag beetle (shown in the lower left corner, teasing a sleeping dog) is seen as a symbol for Christ (since its horns could subdue “the dragon,” or Satan).
• Coincidentally (or perhaps not-so-coincidentally), this evening I noticed that there is a stork placed next to the Joseph (located in the middle ground on the right). I immediately became exited, having recently read this post on Three Pipe Problem which examines how storks (as well as cranes and herons) served as symbols of vigilance. (This painting dates just a few years before the Carpaccio and Giorgione paintings discussed in the Three Pipe Problem post; it was particularly fun to find another stork connection from the same time period.) I also read here that storks also have been associated with piety, resurrection, and purity in Christian iconography.
• The background of the painting also depicts aspects from the Nativity story: the angel appearing to shepherds, the star in the sky, the visit of the Magi (in this painting, the kings and their entourage have alighted ships and are traveling along a road).
• This painting by Dürer was particularly liked by Rudolf II, the emperor of Austria in the late 16th – early 17th centuries. Rudolf II was a great patron of the arts, and he ordered that a print of this painting by made by Aegidius Sadler, the court engraver. Additionally, in 1604 Rudolf II ordered Jan Brueghel the Elder to make a copy of this same Dürer painting. (If anyone knows of an online reproduction for this Brueghel copy, please let me know! I’m curious to see it.)

Dürer’s painting is fun, isn’t it? Which animal do you like the best? I particularly like the parrot that is perched on the left side of the Virgin.

I’ve always liked royal portraits. It’s always fun to see how a monarch decides to visually assert his/her power, prestige, wisdom, wealth, etc. In portraiture, these attributes and characteristics of the sitter are emphasized through various signifiers (e.g. lavish, expensive clothing signifies that the wearer of the clothes is rich). What what if the signifier (or symbol) isn’t clear or easily understood?

Well, “ambiguity” is right. The well-known symbolic associations with snakes are the Fall, sin, death, and Satan. And I’m pretty sure Elizabeth I wasn’t going for those associations. Once in a while you hear about snakes being associated with wisdom, so maybe that explains why the snake was originally included? Can you think of any other symbolic reasons why Elizabeth I would be depicted with a snake?

On another note, deterioration of this painting has also caused a strange ghostly appearance on Elizabeth I’s forehead. This portrait was painted over another unfinished portrait, and the eyes and nose of the previous woman face have become visible. It appears that the painter of Elizabeth I decided to reuse the unfinished panel, a common practice at the time.

Poor Elizabeth. As was suggested on The Corinthian Column, Elizabeth I doesn’t appear to have been the most attractive of monarchs. And having an extra nose and pair of eyes in your forehead is not going to improve your looks.²