The Man in the Chaperon - Jan Van Eyck - Research Paper Example

 The Man in the Chaperon: Jan van Eyck, Portrait Painter Extraordinaire Creating the likeness of a person had a special importance - long before the advent of photography - that went beyond pure representation. In the first half of the 15th century especially, there were a number of reasons a person would have commissioned a portrait to be painted. Established as a popular art form in Burgundy and Italy during this time, portraiture was crucial to the construction and articulation of individualism (Woodall 1997). Here, an attempt will be made to address the success of Jan van Eyck, a Flemish painter of extraordinary talent and innovation, whose portraits were immensely influential in the establishment of the genre (Van Os et al 2000). Investigation of his life, status, style and contribution to the art of portraiture should further the understanding of his importance within the context of the political climate during his time. With a life largely undocumented except for records of commissions by various important persons who came into contact with him, there is no known record of Jan van Eyck’s birth. Scholars have had to guess his age, how he was educated and apprenticed, and also his relationship with a number of other van Eycks of the time, including Hubert, who is thought to be his older brother and collaborator (Pacht & Schmidt-Dengler 2000). Because so few remaining paintings - only about 25 - have been definitely attributed to van Eyck, it is very difficult to ascertain a lot of detail about his work. Fortunately, many of these are portraits, so it is possible to undertake a study of what this master’s work entailed in the early 1400s, and what kind of value was placed on portrait painting at the time van Eyck was gaining renown in the Burgundian Netherlands (Van Os et al 2000) during the time of the Northern European Renaissance. Early portraiture took its shape and form from Byzantine icons, and was confined to head and shoulders images of the person being painted. Full figure portraits came later, with van Eyck one of the exponents who tried it. Facial features and expression were the most important, because this specific focus was seen as very personal. A realistic representation also showed flaws and human imperfections, such as warts, scars and wrinkles, which seemed, in the pious times of the early 15th century, to imply that humans were mortal and imperfect (Woodall 1997). A portrait could be seen as an act of faith in God: who alone is perfect in the eyes of the faithful. Portraiture attempted to convey a character, rather than just an accurate picture of a person. Objects painted near or in the hands of the sitter inevitably suggested their profession, talents or material wealth, or their standing in society. People important enough to be painted had to have that reason perpetuated with them (Woodall 1997). Any words or inscriptions, too, were important for the viewer to understand when, where, how and for what reason that portrait was made. In van Eyck’s time, historic events were such that understanding his portraits is to understand a little of the history of Burgondian Flanders. Van Eyck’s Timoteos (Portrait of a Young Man, 1432) is a male portrait inscribed ‘Léal Souvenir’, which means ‘Faithful Memory’ and suggested a sincere illustration of the believer, which would help elevate him to his heavenly immortality (Woodall ibid). This sentiment can be traced back to some of the earliest portraits of all: funeral pictures of the departed in Egyptian and Roman graves. The man in the picture, with features typically those of the Low Countries (bulbous nose, beady eyes and full lips) looks learned rather than wealthy. His clothes are not elaborate, and he holds a scroll. He looks off to the left in a pensive way, rather than address the viewer. This is possibly because of the man’s profession, modesty or vocation. A mystery surrounds what the scroll could mean. Van Eyck seemed to sense the importance of Christian tones in his work, from as early as when he was court painter to John of Bavaria. From this post, van Eyck could better his lot in life, and made sure his sitters were well connected (Tomlinson 2007). The Dukes of Burgundy had taken over the region, and were establishing the Netherlands as a successful and wealthy cultural centre. The Duchy of Limburg, where van Eyck probably spent his childhood and youth, benefited from the exploits of the Dukes of Burgundy in the 15th century. Philip the Bold, until he bequeathed the duchy of Brabant to his son Anthony, ensured Burgundian control over these territories in Flanders, whose traces are still visible today. (The Flemish still describe something sumptuous as Burgundian.) The Dukes lived a lavish lifestyle, employing a large number of people: among these, astronomers, map makers, scientists, musicians, and court painters and sculptors. One of these, arriving at the court of Philip the Good in 1425, immediately after the death of John of Bavaria, was Jan van Eyck, taken on because his work was ‘so excellent and impressive’ (Tomlinson 2007). Some writers also believe van Eyck came from a well connected family of some standing, which made possible his employment at court (Harbison 1997). He was to stay on until his death in 1441, using his art as a tool to gain favor and fortune. Although very little is documented of the artist’s life at this time, and most of the works painted then have not survived, enough is known to indicate the artist and his family enjoyed the beneficence of Duke Philip. A student who reads that the Duke was the godfather of van Eyck’s son, and bestowed six silver cups upon him as a gift, would guess that the relationship that the artist enjoyed with the powerful and the wealthy was not just that of painter. It is understood that van Eyck travelled out of Flanders on a number of trips in the service of the Duke, whose reason probably went beyond art. It was not unusual for artists to be sent to paint portraits of political, religious or financial figures, or to endow some church or castle with a painting as a gift. But painters were also known to be excellent diplomats, known for their tact, good taste, literary knowledge and fine manners (Pacht & Schmidt-Dengler 2000). They were very valuable and useful members of the inner community. The Dukes continued to protect and bestow gifts and favors upon the van Eyck family long after Jan the painter died: such was his position in the court. He was allowed the freedom to come and go, on matters that had nothing to do with the court, and could also take on private commissions, which brought in extra payment. He painted the portraits of a number of noblemen and women, and seeing how busy he was, fulfilling everything that was needed from him in Philip the Good’s residences and holdings, he must have had the need to employ underlings (Tomlinson 2007). Artists who found themselves employed by noblemen, in those days, had to prepare banners and decorations for the grand halls, create pennons and flags for the various functions that went on during the year, and paint groups and portraits of visitors as well as courtiers, the Duke’s family and friends, politicians and statesmen, and wealthy landowners (Tomlinson 2007). They were also in charge of depicting sacred pictures for the worship in the duchy’s churches and chapels, especially those at the castle, and make wedding pictures. Although little is left of all this artistry, it is known that van Eyck created a voluminous body of work (Harbison 1997), and became an indispensible member of the court. Although he worked as a restorer as well as a painter when in the household of John of Bavaria, it is unlikely he would have had time for it in the employ of Duke Philip. When one studies the intricate detail of The Virgin of the Chancellor Rolin, 1436, it is clear that the time-consuming finesse needed his full attention. This large painting on a massive slab of wood, shows the Chancellor on his knees praying to the Virgin, who sits across from him at the same level. It is full of marvelous painstaking detail: from the tessellation of the encaustic tiles underfoot, to the patterned fabric of the Chancellor’s robe, the eye is crowded with a wealth of tiny features, whose culmination is surely the gold filigree crown held by an angel over the Virgin’s head in place of a halo. Then there is the superb landscape past the arches, a painting device which takes the viewer’s eye and lengthens the view until it fades into the far distance, showing carefully planned and meticulously painted fields and a beautiful bridge over a river, probably the Schelde. Many commentators say the scene is not identified, but it could only be the Schelde or the Meuse rivers. The Flemish set great store on their rivers, which were not only beautiful, but also provided water for agriculture and navigable boat routes for trade. Politically speaking, any land with navigable rivers was exceedingly valuable and coveted by powerful dukes and princes, who were willing to fight over such holdings. Placed within such a painting, this is not merely a pretty scene, but a statement about land ownership (Harbison 2003). The careful student will note that in this painting, the Virgin and angel have downcast eyes, modestly and piously regarding the Holy Child, but the praying man looks boldly at the Holy Mother. This is a political pose: Rolin is depicted as a man of power and daring, perhaps even audacity. There is no humor in those slitted eyes and pursed lips. Nicolas Rolin commissioned this painting for the chapel at Autun. He is portrayed as jowly and realistically scowling with a sense of self-importance. He was a lawyer, raised to the position of chancellor in 1422: his promotion came from trust placed in him by John the Fearless and Philip the Good, the dukes of Burgundy. Depth is created by the invented architecture, the encaustic tiling and the background landscape, which is one of the work’s most noteworthy features. For its time, this is an innovative painting, both in composition and the relationship between the figures inside the space they occupy: a sculptural positioning that signifies wealth and power, set within a room constructed according to the rules of perspective (Harbison 1997). It now hangs at the Louvre in Paris. It became the fashion to create portraits of important personages of the time within sacred pictures containing saints or the Virgin. Rogier van der Weyden was another artist who did this, especially for altarpieces (Woodall 2007). Flanders was gaining wealth and importance because of its walled cities and navigable rivers: buildings, such as churches and town halls, towers and monasteries, were being built in large numbers. Masons, sculptors, artists and tapestry weavers had a lot to do (Snyder et al 2004). Another of these important portraits is the Virgin with Canon van der Paele which shows the church dignitary having a vision in the choir of the collegiate church of St. Donatian in Bruges. St George and St Donatian present the Canon to the Virgin in a dignified way, with St George raising his helmet. Once more, the intricate detail encourages the viewer to approach: the exquisite carpet under the Virgin’s feet indicates wealth. Decoration of the columns in the background is tiny but perfect. All the fabrics such as silk, brocade and even fur, is painted realistically. The Canon’s stole is folded over his arm - perhaps a sign of modesty, or an indication he approached in his simple alb to be blessed - the spectacles he clutches are a symbol of learning and intellectuality. He is gazing at St Donatian, his face depicted as the most realistic in the painting, since he is the most mortal and human, with veins and wrinkles highly visible and showing his venerable age (Harbison 1997). Muted light enters through the whorls of glass at the very back, and glints on the special armor of St George, whose angelic face is the only one that displays a half-smile. He is glad to be presenting the powerful Canon, whose face, with its thin lips and beady eyes show only a hint of awe. Because this picture used to hang inside the very church it depicts, according to some historians, it was possible for the Canon to see his picture and for his parishioners to witness his vision of the Virgin (Harbison 2003). The church is long gone, but this enormous picture, painted on wood in 1436, survives at the Groenige Museum in Bruges, not far from where the Canon sat for van Eyck. Two years previously, van Eyck finished what is probably his most renowned and studied portrait: one of the first full length portraits he undertook. The Portrait of Giovanni Arnolfini and his Wife (1434) is a fascinating and absorbing picture that draws the viewer in: just one glance is impossible. Arnolfini was a wealthy Italian merchant from Lucca, who had come to settle in Flanders with his young wife, also Italian, Giovanna Cenami. Although many interpreters describe her as being pregnant, others think that she only looks that way because of the fashionable pose the artist made her hold, probably in order to have more stylish folds in the green fabric. Her form also suggests potential fertility. From the brass chandelier, to the wooden clogs on the floor, and the open window on the left, this is a very Flemish painting, with a number of pretty domestic themes such as the pet dog, the fruit ripening on the coffer and windowsill, the brush hanging near the mirror and the white head dress of the wife: an indoor style. But nothing takes away from the imposing and most important figure: Arnolfini and his grandiose gesture that belies his face, which would be weak if he were less supercilious. This rich man has complete power over his sweet but childish wife. Some commentators describe this as a wedding picture because the couple stands in a bridal chamber and the wife looks pregnant. Others say it was an anniversary painting, or a memorial to a dead wife of Arnolfini’s. There has been great debate, opinions, theses and discussion about this picture, for which the best explanation to this student seems to be that Arnolfini wished to send a portrait of him and his wife back to Italy. To impress his family there, he commissioned the best portrait painter he could get in Flanders, urging him to include many symbols of wealth, such as the oranges, the mirror (large for the time) and the chandelier, the oriental carpet, red hangings for the bed and the extravagant clothing worn. The artist’s signature on the back wall had to be large - and not on the frame, as van Eyck usually signed his paintings - to show the merchant’s success and ability to pay for a very good artist. Harbison (1997) has a lot to say about this painting, which he dissects and analyzes in all its parts in a lengthy way. Indeed, a thesis could be written on the extensive research and scholarly discussion over this painting. What it tells us about the artist is that van Eyck was in demand as a portrait painter for his faithful representation of faces; his willingness to include aspects and symbols to portray the sitters correctly within their family, wealth and status contexts; and his attention to fine detail (Harbison 2003). Because of its historical importance on how it portrays marriage, wealth, and sexual and gender status in its time, the painting is one of the most important ones from the Northern Renaissance that hangs at the London National Gallery. Giovanni Arnolfini is himself portrayed alone in a head and shoulders portrait of the same year (1434). Wearing a red ‘turban’, he has the same hooded eyes and prominent Italian nose, and looks away from the viewer. This student wonders if Arnolfini liked this picture of himself, or if he got the feeling van Eyck did not like him. He is not portrayed very sympathetically: no wrinkles or warts, but a sly expression that seems to suggest shiftiness. He is wearing a fur-lined velvet robe and holding a rectangular object which could be a bar of silver, to denote wealth. Painting wealthy people in Flanders, while under the patronage of the Duke and pulling in a very generous salary, Jan van Eyck was certainly not a poor artist living in a garret. By comparison to artists such as Jan Vermeer, he was fabulously rich, and free to take on the commissions he liked. His travels for the Duke must also have made him an interesting and broadminded person, whose opinions were as valued as his artistic abilities. These were probably the reasons that kept him in the Duke’s employ until his death (Tomlinson 2007). The growing success of van Eyck’s social and diplomatic value can be seen in the difference between his gorgeously decorated portraits and his earlier depiction of Cardinal Nicola Albergati (1432). This modest picture is very realistic, showing an ageing church dignitary in a simple red robe with ermine trimming. As Prior of the Church of the Holy Cross of Jerusalem in Rome, the cardinal was sent by the Pope as a papal legate to the French and English courts in 1431. He then had to proceed to Burgundy to negotiate the peace to the Hundred Years War. He visited Flanders and the Dukes of Burgundy while on this journey, which shows the importance being gained by that part of the Low Countries (Snyder et al 2004). The cardinal’s mission was successful: the peace treaty of Arras between England and France was signed in 1432. Jan van Eyck, becoming busier with functions for the Dukes, who received such prestigious visitors, received the commission in 1431, when Albergati visited Bruges and Ghent (Van Os et al 2000). These two medieval cities, with their narrow streets, canals that reminded Italian visitors of Venice, and their successful citizens, whose refined manners and elegant lifestyle was very pleasing, were enjoying the prosperity of the region. It is impossible to discuss Jan van Eyck without mention of the Ghent Altarpiece, which was finished 1432. Because the work of at least two artists is detectable in this work, scholars have proposed it was started by the elder brother Hubert, and then finished by Jan. Lettering on the work supports this. It is interesting here because among the figures depicted are the kneeling portraits of two Ghent citizens: Jodocus Vijd, deputy burgomaster of Ghent, warden of the church of St John, and his wife, Elisabeth Borluut, who commissioned the altarpiece from Hubert at the request of her husband. Interestingly, the portraits of the patrons are the most realistic and therefore least flattering. Elisabeth is shown as an ageing matron with a rather masculine face, and her husband Jodocus is jowly and bald. But they are shown as pious, mirroring each other in steadfast prayer wearing simple red robes. Vijd wears a black bag of office on his belt, which means he was a treasurer or purser for the town. The ability to portray officeholders so realistically - and, by deduction so rapidly - van Eyck must have proven himself over and over to be reliable, practical and worth the while of his commissioners. It is surprising then, that in 1433, he had the time to paint Portrait of a Man which is also known as Man in a Red Turban. The head dress is in fact not a turban at all, but a ‘chaperon’, the common head wear of the time. A lot of study has gone into the fashions of the era, and a lot is known about such chaperons Tomlinson 2007). The painted black straw hat in the Arnolfini painting is a bit unusual for Flanders, and is more Italian. The man in the red chaperon is probably the artist van Eyck himself: the tell-tale direct gaze is similar to the gaze in self portraits of other artists, and suggests the use of a mirror (Harbison 2003). Signed on the frame, which is original, there is no symbolic hint in the picture as to who the sitter is, but a cryptic inscription on the top bar of the frame goes ‘Als Ich Can’ which is a pun on van Eych’s name, and could mean ‘if I can’. This important picture is arresting because of it simplicity, its restraint and its ability to mesmerize the viewer. Its ability to engage far surpasses the Portrait of Baudouin Lannoy, which is most probably a commemorative or souvenir picture to mark the occasion when Lannoy received membership of the Order of the Golden Fleece, whose gold medal he wears around his neck. Lannoy was a very important man: he formed part of the diplomatic party to Portugal in 1428, which included van Eyck, and was also Governor of Lille. One would imagine that this is only one of very few surviving portraits of important personages, of which van Eyck must have painted dozens (Tomlinson 2007). As for portraits of women by van Eyck, not many survive at all. Among the lost portraits is perhaps the one a student would be most interested in, because it strengthened the value of van Eyck as a court member and diplomat to the Dukes. Philip The Good frequently found it necessary to send van Eyck on essential diplomatic missions. Two of these trips were connected to finding a suitable marriage match for Duke Philip. The first journey took van Eyck to Spain, which, although lengthy and involved, was not successful. The second mission planned followed in a few months to Portugal, to meet with and paint the portrait of Isabella, the eldest daughter of King John I of Portugal. Although in her thirties, Isabella was known to have diplomatic skills and came from a fertile family. Portugal was a valuable trading partner, and an ally to England. This was certainly not a love match. Painting the portrait was an important task, and it is only to be imagined - if van Eyck liked the princess - how carefully he would execute the likeness. Directly or indirectly, the artist’s opinion of the match must have been reflected in the painting. He was trusted by the Duke. Isabella was won: Philip regarded the painting as a splendid likeness, a match was made, and the wedding was planned. It took place by proxy, with the groom and bride only meeting 19 weeks after the wedding date. Unfortunately, van Eyck’s portrait is lost, and no-one can gaze upon his meticulous work and guess his opinion, which must have been positive. Today, students can look at the portrait of Isabella made by Rogier van der Weyden, which he executed when the princess was in Bruges, and wonder how differently van Eyck might have represented her. The female portrait most commentators say is of his wife, Margaret, is a picture that is a bit more attractive than the Lannoy picture, which seems a stiff and not very flattering image of the diplomat. Although not overly warm, this female portrait says a number of things about van Eyck and his wife: the clothing she is painted in is fine, fur and red velvet very capably painted by her husband, expensive and befitting of a genteel lady of the time. This indicates that the van Eyck family was well off and could afford to have a high standard of living. Margaret’s hairstyle is also that of a lady. The ‘dagged’ decoration on the edge of her white veil was considered to be expensive at the time (Tomlinson 2007). She looks straight at the viewer, which is an indication of an intimate painting that wishes to make a relationship between the sitter and the painter, and through him, whoever else looks at it. Another mysterious portrait is titled Man in a Blue Turban. As explained above, the ‘turban’ is really the headdress - called a chaperon - worn by men at the time van Eyck was establishing himself as the the founder of Early Renaissance style in Northern Europe (Pacht & Schmidt-Dengler 2000). Although the sitter has not been identified, this portrait is significant because of a number of things: the sitter is holding a ring. This might mean that it is a marriage portrait, painted as the likeness of a nobleman wishing to make a match with a titled lady, either a princess or a duchess. The picture would be taken by representatives or diplomats to the lady’s family, and negotiations would start. These took in wealth and position, but also matters of fertility, physical and mental health, connections and power. This man is wearing a blue chaperon: blue dye was then the most expensive, and is decorated with ‘dagging’ which was time consuming and costly (Tomlinson 2007). Although he has horizontal lines on the forehead and a two-day growth on his upper lip, the man looks intelligent and healthy. Portraits of this kind were known to be flattering, but van Eyck’s reputation as a highly realistic painter would have been at stake, so students can rely on the fact it is probably a good likeness. But of whom? It is not as mysterious, but infinitely more interesting than a portrait with a similar use: that of Jan de Leeuw, who wears somber brown, a plain dark chaperon and also holds a ring. This man is perhaps not as wealthy as the previous one, but his clothes are lined with fur, and he has an engaging intelligent expression. Clean-shaven, his gaze is direct and candid, one of the best van Eyck has done. Here, the sitter is known. He is a goldsmith, so the fact he holds a ring might suggest more than a desire for a match, but also a statement about the way he earned his living. Mixed messages are not unusual with Jan van Eyck: he painted strictly realist portraits when they were required, which persuaded the viewer of his truthfulness, but then created frames for his pictures out of faux marble and porphyry, and fake stone into which he ‘carved’ letters. This kind of tromp l’oeuil (optical illusion) tends to play a trick on the viewer, something that must have delighted him secretly (Tomlinson 2007). He was a very busy man who might have needed private jokes to relieve the pressure built by responsibility and a very heavy work load. He was artist, portraitist, decorator and diplomat all at once, while head of a large family in the middle of one of the busiest centers of Europe, while in the height of its artistic, political and intellectual Renaissance.  Sources cited Harbison, Craig (2003) The Mirror of the Artist: Northern Renaissance Art in its Historical Context Prentice Hall ----------- (1997) Jan van Eyck: The Play of Realism Reaktion Books Pacht, O and Schmidt-Dengler Q (2000) Van Eyck and the Founders of Early Netherlandish Painting Harvey Miller Publishers Snyder, J; Silver L., and Luttikhuizen, H (2004) Northern Renaissance Art Prentice Hall Tomlinson, Amanda (2007) Van Eyck Chaucer Press Van Os, H; Fildet Kok, J P; Luijten, G; Scholten, F (2000) Netherlandish Art 1400-1600 Yale University Press. Woodall, Joanna (Ed)(1997) Portraiture Manchester University Press Read More