|
Monthly column on the artsVermeer & the Delft SchoolVERMEER & THE DELFT SCHOOL Exhibition Johannes Vermeer painted in the golden age of Dutch painting. He was a native of Delft, which in the 17th century was a thriving artistic centre; its landmark churches, streets and harbours appear in the paintings of the time, as does the characteristic blue-and-white faience ceramics of the region. Once a centre of industry, in Vermeer's time Delft produced fine art and luxury goods. The exhibition captures this moment in time well, and successfully places Vermeer into a context. He is like John Bunyan, in that he is often thought of as unique in what he did, though the fact is that he was a member of an artistic community most of which he happened to outshine. As if to make the point the exhibition places other artists' work alongside his, most notably Pieter de Hooch and Carel Fabritius. What separates Vermeer from his contemporaries is (to over-simplify) subtlety. The exhibition demonstrates that Vermeer himself moved from early paintings quite different to the themes and scale of his mature work. He was initially influenced by Caravaggio, whose almost theatrical use of light and perspective can be felt in the two early Vermeer biblical scenes and the distinctly secular 'The Procuress'. Against these the domestic interiors of de Hooch seem infinitely more subtle, especially with their use of light and depth of perspective. These are painting to be inhabited rather than viewed: to look at them is to construct a narrative. The exhibition presents a range of genres contemporary with Vermeer: views of Delft, pictures of everyday life, flower studies and architectural paintings. In all these, two things predominate: a deep understanding of light and shade, and a believable presence such that you can almost handle the flowers, or lean against the solid church pillars. BreathtakingThe mature Vermeer ups the subtlety stakes again. His use of light is breathtakingly controlled, his subjects intimate and personal. The drama of the early paintings and the bravura of their light and shade is replaced by an almost chaste domesticity, in which we are almost intruders into the private moments that most of the paintings capture. The paintings contain meanings on many levels. Vermeer has always been a good artist from whom to learn how to read a painting: it's hard to miss visual parallels - a book that echoes the shape of the floor tiles, a world map poignantly suggesting an absent travelling lover, the inclusion of other paintings as part of the background, forming an implicit commentary on the theme. For example, two women in different paintings in domestic music-making: one has, behind her, a painting on the wall of cupid holding a playing card: the 'one' on the card signifies fidelity. The other has a painting of a procuress, implying that her morals are less chaste. It's easy to learn the rudiments of this symbolic language, even during a single visit to the exhibition. IlluminationBut this is nuts-and-bolts stuff. The real glory of the mature work is the light that suffuses the paintings, a light that comes from outside and illuminates and explains what is inside - a convincing metaphor for the prevailing Reformation world view of the17th-century Netherlands. Much of what Vermeer does with light is hard to capture in reproduction. One painting, 'The Milkmaid', shows a young woman pouring milk from a jug. The moment is private and personal, and as in so many Vermeer paintings, elements in the foreground conspire to prevent you easy access to the space in which the woman stands. It's her face that haunts you. It is neither impressionist nor photographic. The portrait is achieved by soft applications of paint, almost casual in effect, which coalesce into a detailed and precise image that seems to have no edges. Time and time again, light breaks up boundaries in these paintings, creating an illusion that is complete. I was reminded of a passage in William Golding's The Spire - 'He shook his head in rueful wonder at the solid sunlight ... and he smiled a little, to think how the mind touches all things with law, yet deceives itself as easily as a child.' Or, as my photographer wife Tricia observed, 'It's as if the other painters in the exhibition are using flash. They don't have the subtle shadows under the table that Vermeer has.' Do go and see this remarkable exhibition, though you will need to book ahead to make sure you get in. David Porter© Evangelicals Now - August 2001 |