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Durer's Workshop in Nuremberg, 1495-1505
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Self-Portrait in a Fur-Collared Robe
1500
Alte Pinakothek, Munich
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Self-Portrait in a Fur-Collared Robe
Carel von Mander (1617) saw this painting in Nuremberg, and it stayed in the
city hall there until 1805, the year it was sold to the gallery (Pinakothek) of
Munich. Except for the background, which has been repainted, the painting has
been well preserved. Many aspects of this most famous portrait, which has
prompted a number of interpretations, are, to say the least, unusual. The first
observation concerns the depiction of the front profile: its symmetry, evident
not only in his facial features but also in the placement of the curly hair to
the sides of the head, recalls the "true icon," the true image of Christ, the
model for every image of the blessed face, even in his depiction of the Holy
Shroud.
The fact that the portrait is almost life-size is as exceptional,
for it is a dimension that artists commonly avoided. The third observation: the
vanity and the self-satisfaction that the artist had persisted with in his
previous portraits acquires a completely new appearance. He renounces any
example of his exploits and cleverness and adopts a classical form, unusual for
him. This form presupposes a serious study of proportions.
According to Winzinger's calculations (Zeitschrift fur
Kunstwissenschaft 8, 1954), the portrait is constructed according to the
dictates of the gold section, or, at the very least, according to precise rules,
beginning with the proportions of the dimension of the portrait. The same had
already occurred in the representation of the head of Christ. Undoubtedly, the
source of this correspondence in Durer's thought could be the biblical
affirmation that God created man in His own image. However, this does not
necessarily mean that the artist intended to paint an imi-tatio Christi (Barinton,
Art Bulletin 29, 1947, pp. 269 ft), even if the year 1500 was also a holy year
and that this sort of idea is not to be totally dismissed. We can find a
plausible motivation of this autoidentification of Durer and the image of Christ
in Saint Bonaventure, who believed that the human being's creative abilities
bring him closer to God. This line of thought was subsequently drawn upon by the
Neoplatonic school in Florence (which Durer had come into contact with through
his friend Pirckheimer). Anzelewsky's thesis is just as convincing (1991). He
sustains that the window that is reflected in Durer's eyes—a detail that is
frequently found in his portraits and depictions of the Madonna—does not only
represent reality, but mirrors Leonardo's thought: oculi fenestrae an-imae.
Camerarius's interpretation runs similarly, holding that in Durer's biography (Rupprich,
1956, p. 307), the artist transfers the figures seen internally "with the eye of
the soul," in the visible reality of things.
To the reference to christoformitas is added also the allusion to
the creative force of the artist.
It must be emphasized that Durer apparently follows another topos in
this self-portrait, what Vasari adopts in his Vite to praise the best portraits:
to seem truly alive. In fact, the artist's eyes are still moist, the flesh is so
bodily it seems palpable, and the fur and the material seem real. At the same
time, he was concerned about rendering a spirituality in the facial expression,
lengthening the features and making the forehead higher.
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Lamentation over the Dead Christ
1500
Alte Pinakothek, Munich
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Lamentation over the Dead Christ
This panel was dedicated by Albrecht Glimm, the goldsmith, to his
first wife, Margareth Holzhausen, deceased 22 October 1500. During
1573-74, it was part of the Imhoff collection and, with the
collection, was offered to Rudolph II in 1588. Between 1608 and
1613, it was acquired by Maximilian I of Bavaria. During a
restoration that took place in 1924, the portraits of Glimm's second
wife and of his seven children were destroyed. Durer had added these
following her death, in 1518. The Durerian monogram and the date
1500 had once been on the lower edge of the sudarium. The
lamentation scene, composed of nine figures under the cross,
occupies almost the entire painting. This scene is framed above by a
beautiful landscape in which Jerusalem can be seen off the
lakeshore, atop a hill, in the foreground. Behind the city is a
mountain peak and a mountain range that disappear into the
background. The city, mountains, and lake are flooded with light. A
thick blanket of heavy black clouds that thins out just above the
lake in the back looms over the mountains. While the presence of the
black clouds is justified by the narration of the crucifixion ("and
darkness came over the whole land...while the sun's light failed,"
Luke 23:45), and the light is explained by the words of the
apocryphal gospel of Saint Peter when he describes the position
("and the sun began to shine again," 6:21), the Jerusalem that
appears in the painting—a city near water, with house, towers, and
fortification walls, lying against rocky mountains—is decidedly an
invented, Nordic city, which does not at all reflect the actual
appearance, well known at that time, of this blessed city. In the
center, one sees the door that opens into the garden of Cethsemane.
A little more ahead, on the right, is the entrance to the tomb in
the rock, through which one can spot the uncovered sarcophagus. The
first thing that strikes the spectator is the chorale composition of
the sufferers around the figure of Christ. One subsequently
perceives the landscape, almost as if it were a second component of
the painting. At this point, the two components together make the
visual field explode.
The image of the lamentation is from a Dutch, not a German,
tradition (Anzelewsky, 1991). Durer interprets it in Italian terms,
associating, in the composition of the scene, the figures three by
three: Nicodemus, Magdalene, and Saint John the Evangelist align
themselves in an ascending order under the cross. In the center, the
head of the Madonna, while she wrings her hands, is joined by the
heads of the other two Marys, who cry with her, the three
representing three ages of life.
Last is Joseph of Arimathea, who supports the body of Christ with
the sudarium. The image of the body is particularly impressive for
the deathly pale color and for the complete abandon of the lifeless
parts. Another Mary stands out for her clothing, fashioned from Durer's period (note the bonnet and the gold clasp, similar to those
of the Tucher women). She is weeping while holding
Christ's hand.
Thus, a triad is formed, be it with the head of Christ and the
Madonna, or of Christ and Joseph of Arimathea. The impression of
these different triads contrasts with the great chromatic variety of
the clothing. However, the rhythm that characterizes the harmonious
composition of the figures is not to be found in the colors, since
the exaggerated dimensions of the ointment vases breaks the
regularity of the proportions, which is otherwise fairly consistent.
The beauty of the work lies chiefly in the depiction of the
individual physiognomies and in the gradation of pain: from
Magdalene's tear-stained eyes, to the expression of muted and
composed suffering of almost all the rest of the figures, to the
absolute desperation, shown by the gesture and wailing of the woman
next to the Madonna.
The scene with the body of the dead Christ opens up toward the
spectator, so that he can directly participate in the lamentation,
following the Mary, clad in Renaissance attire, who lovingly
clutches the hand of Christ. Since the entire scene is illuminated
by a limpid "new light," the suffering of the lamentation is
accompanied by a feeling of comfort, a feeling that Durer makes
delicately transpire from the John and Magdalene, whose hopeful
gazes are turned toward this light. This, apparently, is the
Christian message of the panel. According to an enduring medieval
tradition, the figures of the donors are painted, kneeling at the
bottom of the scene: on the right, the position of honor, the
goldsmith Albrecht Glimm with his coat of arms and two sons; to the
left, the late consort with her own coat of arms and
daughter. A crown of thorns lies in the middle, between the
two groups. There is another painting in the Germanisches Museum of Nuremberg that is
dedicated to the memory of Karl Holzschuher dated the year 1500. It
comes from the same church and vaguely recalls the one described
above, but it is the product of workshop.
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Lamentation over the Dead Christ
(detail)
1500
Alte Pinakothek, Munich |
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Lamentation over the Dead Christ
(detail)
1500
Alte Pinakothek, Munich |
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Lamentation over the Dead Christ
(detail)
1500
Alte Pinakothek, Munich |
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Paumgartner Altar
c. 1503
Alte Pinakothek, Munich
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Paumgartner Altar (central panel)
c. 1503
Alte Pinakothek, Munich |
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Paumgartner Altar (left wing)
c. 1503
Alte Pinakothek, Munich |

Paumgartner Altar (right wing)
c. 1503
Alte Pinakothek, Munich |
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Paumgartner Altar
Emperor Rudolph II did not manage to acquire the painting, which in
1613-14 was removed from the church of Saint Catherine in Nuremberg,
to be given to Maximilian of Bavaria.
Center panel
On the left side, Durer invented, with an almost perpendicular
perspective with respect to the observer, a complex of ruins made up
of huge, partly broken blocks of stone.
A large round arch made of square stones is erected upon these
stones and shifted toward the left. The arch, in turn, is surmounted
by a large slab in an apparently precarious balance, and by a huge
angular rock. From here, rising on a step along the wall beside the
arch, you reach another rounded arch. This one is much higher than,
and perpendicular to, the first.
It leads to another structure to the right, where two smaller
arches, resting on columns with Romanic cubic capitals, delimit the
stable of the ox and donkey.
The two facades, on the left and on the right, establish a
perspective series toward the landscape passage in the background.
This passage is contrasted with the three planks resting on the
right wall and on the transversal arch, and, lower down, with the
wooden roof that stretches from the right-hand wall toward the
center, protecting the Madonna and the infant Jesus. This whole
arrangement can be considered proof of the level Durer's abilities
had reached in perspectival representation—though as yet imperfect,
as far as the rules of central perspective are concerned. It is the
setting of the Nativity. The characters are distributed in the open
space between the two houses under the shelter of a roof, as the
"golden legend" says. The Virgin is in front of the small archways
on the right. She stands ahead of Joseph, who remains outside the
roof cover; two shepherds appear beyond and behind the Madonna, in
the distance, above a hill, is the scene of the angel appearing "in
the splendor of the glory of the Lord" to the shepherds grazing
their sheep, announcing the "good news." The two shepherds who enter
the scene are speaking animatedly, and one of them, in a sign of
devotion, has also removed his hat. However, they do not yet
realize, emotional as they are, that they are so close to their
destination.
The Virgin Mary is depicted on bended knee and in adoration of her
son, as her gaze and her folded arms reveal. He is a little baby,
held and caressed by a group of playful little angels. Jesus crosses
his legs and looks tenderly at his mother, stretching his arms out
toward her, a gesture and a gaze that perhaps signifies the
acceptance of the task that awaits him.
The shepherds are moving toward the creche, although the panel does
not represent the "adoration of the shepherds." They are too
immersed in their own con versation. The central theme of the panel
is surely the "adoration of Mary." An unusually large Joseph
approaches the foreground and emerges from a gap in the stones.
Leaning with his right hand on the socle of the roof, he looks to
the Madonna. He has a saddlebag hanging from his side, and in his
left hand he holds a lamp firmly, which does not, however, emit any
light. The blessed night appears illuminated by a great, mysterious
round light in the top left. It is, however, a fictive light, since
the whole scene of the nativity is illuminated by an invisible
source in the bottom left corner. According to Panofsky, Joseph's
lantern would have an emblematic value (1955): it would represent
the splendor materialis, which, according to Saint Brigid of Sweden,
is obscured by the splendor divinus of the newborn Savior.
Joseph, in his role of putative father, is usually represented in
Nordic art as a ridiculous figure. Here he enjoys an important
position, without taking on a dominant role in the story. After ail,
it is true that the pole supporting the roof excludes him from the
principal scene. The presence of the two male figures leaning out
from the left, from the shadow of the wooden beams inserted below
the arch, is curious. The meaning of the plants that sprout from the
ruins is obvious: they allude to the coming of the new era that has
begun with the birth of Christ. Durer, unlike the other workshops of
his day, produced very few altarpieces. In this panel, he
apparently demonstrates much less interest for the christological
content of the represented theme than for the formal problems: the
architecture, light, and perspective. The latter remains his primary
concern, even if, objectively, he did not succeed in resolving these
problems in a totally satisfying way. But it is still possible that
he did want to confront them, through the formal artistic solutions
of Hugo von der Goes, who in 1483 was in Florence and whom he likely
knew through his drawings (Panofsky). His patron was not a clergy
man; neither do we find any reference to a pilgrimage to Jerusalem,
for which occasion he would have commissioned the work.
The small figures of the patrons remain outside the technical and
artistic problems of the painting. They were inserted a bit
haphazardly wherever there was any space left over. On the left is
Martin Paumgartner (died in 1478), his sons Lukas and Stephan, and
perhaps Hans Schonbach, the second husband of his widow, Barbara
Volkhammer (died in 1494). She is depicted on the right together
with her daughters Maria and Barbara. Everyone is depicted with
their coat of arms.
Side Panels
The figures of the saints are a completely different artistic
matter. They are painted in almost actual size on the side panels
representing the portraits of the patrons: Saint George could be
Stephan Paumgartner, and Saint Eustace, Lukas They are, according to
Anzelewsky (1991), the first full-length portraits known to us,
except for those of 1504 of the Stalberg spouses in the Stadelsches
Kunstinstitut in Frankfurt, by the "Master of the Stalburg
portraits." As for the rest, from observing the bearing of the two
figures, studied carefully, and their marked plasticity and
expressiveness of the physiognomies, one could argue that the side
panels were painted after the central one. When the side panels
would be turned slightly forward, the figures of the patrons found
themselves observing the scene represented on the central panel. The
panels were painted even on the back, but of these, only the left
one has been preserved. It represents the Madonna of the Annunciation (Strieder, 1933, fig. 463) and comes from a workshop. A
copy of the Paumgartner altar is located in the Germanisches
Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg.
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