The Art of Passion

I tend to be neglectful when I am in the middle of translating a new document. Whether it is an article or a blog, whether it is journalism or a diary, both are consuming in their own way and one would like to think that what we are reporting or sharing is worth the time of the reader.

This document I am translating is devoted to the nineteen engravings from the Saints and Apostles by Albrecht Durer (which I hope to finish through weekend). I do not know much about the Apostles and I know very little about being a Saint.

With that being said, I am translating the German language, from the catalogue raisonne by Joseph Meder, which I do not pretend to fully understand, for an artist like Albrecht Durer who I pretend I do fully understand.

But let us make no make mistake about it, being a far better enthusiast than a scholar, I am driven more by passion than expertise.

Under normal circumstances that might bother me, but some of the greatest documents in art history were gleaned by individuals like Walter Strauss (Founder of Alibris books), who I was told was at one time a toy manufacturer and became a luminary on Durer; or, Frits Lugt, who became a man of means by marriage and was content documenting collectors’ stamps and evolved into a leading authority on Rembrandt.

In the art world, these are names that are far more than just footnotes in art history; and, I am not saying I am on the same playing field as these individuals. In fact, I do not profess to even be in the same arena. But, I am saying I understand their passion. It is innate. Visceral. Autonomic.

It is no different than breathing (and I love breathing) or my beating heart. Without ever thinking about either, I just breathe it. This is how I feel about sharing this passion.

In short, I simply love it without ever having to think about how much I love art itself or sharing this passion.

It might be because I am not an artist. Or, in a previous life I was a pencil or a copper plate. I don’t know.

In as much, Carl Jung was right! He said, “A great work of art is like a dream; for all its apparent obviousness it does not explain itself and it is never unequivocal.”

I cannot explain myself either, but my passion is undeniable.

Thanks for listening.

Some Of Us Are Doer’s, Some Of Us Are Durer’s

I believe it was Thomas Paine, the great american statesman who said, “I am a far better religionist than a religious person“.

Quite a poetic disclaimer.

It is no different than saying, I could be a politician as long as I did not have to be political; or, I could be a clown as long as I did not have to wear make-up; or, as for myself, I could be an artist as long as I did not have to be artistic.

Dear God, I love art. Yet, I do not have an artistic bone in my body. I might understand the golden section, perspective, foreshortening, disciplines, movements and its beauty, but I will never be able to allow my hands to follow what my eyes see. Like music, I might be able to read the notes, but I will never be able to play the music.

I often marvel at the absolute precision of the engraving by Albrecht Durer of Adam and Eve (1504) with its marvelous mixture of realism and symbolism.

Then, I often give myself indigestion when I think about drawing it myself. In fact, you might consider taking something for your stomach before you look.

Anyway, some of us are meant to be enthusiasts and some of us are meant to be artists. I will always be of the former.

I am a doer by passion and I will never be a Durer by artistic acumen; and, I am content with my position in my appreciation.

 

 

Albrecht Durer: A Legacy Earned

The significance and contribution of Albrecht Durer to the art community is not only amazing but also a source of wonder as to how understated it is. Yet, he was not only collected by enthusiasts but artists, and he was imitated as well.

His woodcuts and engravings were collected from the Mediterranean to the North Sea. They were in the hands of such artists as Italian Renaissance masters as Raphael, Montegna, and Bellini.

Albrecht Durer’s print oeuvre was found in the collections of such dignitaries as Henry VIII of England, King Christian II of Scandinavia, Emperor Maximillian I (of course), Princess Margaret, Regent of the Netherlands, Maximilian’s grandson Charles V, and even the son of Christopher Columbus, Ferdinand.

Raphael’s own masterpiece, Christ Bearing the Cross (c. 1516) borrowed the figure of Christ from Albrecht Durer’s woodcut, Christ Bearing the Cross (1509) from the Small Passion.

Tintoretto, the great Italian Mannerist of the Venetian school, mirrored the Holy Father holding the body of Christ in the Lamentation (c. 1560).

Its source came from Albrecht Durer’s woodcut, Trinity (1511).

El Greco, the Spanish Mannerist also borrowed from Durer’s Trinity, absorbing outlines and content in his work, The Throne of Grace (1577).

Even Rembrandt, the great Dutch painter and printmaker echoed the figure of Christ in his etching, Christ Driving the Money Changers from the Temple (1638).

Its design came from the Albrecht Durer woodcut (of the same name) from the Small Passion (1509-1511).

Impressive enough; however, one of Albrecht Durer’s most incredible legacies involves the Italian Renaissance master, Michelangelo,  who reportedly told Charles V in a conversation that if he were not Michelangelo he would rather be Albrecht Durer than the Emperor.

Quite a tribute to Albrecht Durer: a legacy earned.