Johannes Vermeer's luminous paintings are loved and admired around the world, yet we do not understand how they were made. We see sunlit spaces; the glimmer of satin, silver, and linen; we see the softness of a hand on a lute string or letter. We recognize the distilled impression of a moment of time; and we feel it to be real. We might hope for some answers from the experts, but they are confounded too. Even with the modern technology available, they do not know why there is no evidence of any preliminary drawing; why there are shifts in focus; and why his pictures are unusually blurred. Some wonder if he might possibly have used a camera obscura to capture what he saw before him. The few traces Vermeer has left behind tell us there are no letters or diaries; and no reports of him at work.
Jane Jelley has taken a new path in this detective story. A painter herself, she has worked with the materials of his the cochineal insect and lapis lazuli; the sheep bones, soot, earth, and rust. She shows us how painters made their pictures layer by layer; she investigates old secrets; and hears travelers' tales. She explores how Vermeer could have used a lens in the creation of his masterpieces.
The clues were there all along. After all this time, now we can unlock the studio door, and catch a glimpse of Vermeer inside, painting light.
This past week, while I was in the DC area on some family business, I had the good fortune to be able to see the exhibition on Vermeer and the Masters of Genre Painting at the National Gallery. It is an outstanding exhibition that is set to close soon. I read this book by Jane Jelley as some homework to prepare for working through the show. I am also reading the official exhibition guide and heartily recommend it along with Jelley’s book.
I will readily admit to being underburdened by detailed knowledge of serious writing about the fine arts, especially painting. My motivation to change that is not helped by knowing the volatility around the pricing of major works or by how the “experts” regularly get beaten on forensic issues such as authenticating questionable works by the great masters. This has been a problem over time regarding Vermeer, even though it appears to be less problematic at present. Having said this, the research gets very interesting for me once it starts to consider painters as members of a larger more institutionalized system of craft production and marketing. The recent work of Richard Sennett on craftsmanship comes to mind.
What makes Vermeer so interesting? Well to start with, his paintings are astonishingly beautiful and without many comparisons in terms of craft. In addition, only a small number of them have survived. I realize that people have different tastes, but I can recall my first introductions to Vermeer over forty years ago and I cannot think of another artist that has had such a visceral effect on me. It is hard to explain. Then, add to the quality of the paintings the fact that virtually nothing is known about Vermeer. He died nearly bankrupt at the age of 43 and fell into near obscurity for over a century after his death. Little is certain about what he even looked like and much of the history of Vermeer scholarship has been concerned with narrowing down the official listing of his actual paintings to 30 something in total.
Apparently in Vermeer scholarship there is the additional issue of whether the distinctiveness of Vermeer’s work stems in part from his use of optical equipment that was just developing in Europe in the mid-17th century, in particular the “camera obscure”. While I am sympathetic to the “who cares? response to this hypothetical, it has apparently had an internal logic in which some might denigrate the quality of the works if they were aided somehow by better optics. Jelley, who is an artist herself, makes this line of research an important part of her book and strikes what seems to be a balanced position. I am not sure how deep I want to go on this set of issues, but it was interesting and informative, especially about elite artisans at the height of the Dutch golden age.
What was more interesting to me was how Vermeer and the other top Dutch painters built up the area of “genre painting” to serve their wealthy clients and their big commissions at a time when the economy was humming along and not crippled by wars. Today, we would talk about a common business model concerning how these artists developed their works with a knowledge of what the other top painters were doing. This was the focus of the National Gallery exhibition. It is an interesting story about a brief but extraordinary flowering of Dutch art.
Jelley does a good job at telling her story and explaining how painters at the time went about their business. This leads to some really interesting results. For example, the prominence in this genre painting of indoor settings was as much a function of the techniques that artists used in preparing their surfaces, mixing their paints, and actually constructing their paintings as it was the subject matter that the painters were addressing in their art. Technology made painting more of an indoor activity in the 17th century than it would become later, for example with impressionist artists.
Jelley’s book is also well constructed with high quality visuals - important for an art book.
I have to confess only hazily understanding how the combination of camera obscura and printing forms the bones of a Vermeer, and I can't remember all the layers that go into the painting. But these are things worth wrestling with. Following the details of how a painting gets constructed makes that transformation from materials to magic even more captivating. It's especially enthralling when the author writes about it so well. Here is a bit of Jelley's own deft word-painting: "The young woman pauses, her hand on the rim of the window pain, relaying on the thinness of a hinge, to steady herself as she stands. Her slightest movement would disrupt the perfect visual cadence Vermeer created. As fragile and vulnerable as she is, we see her strength. Her touch may be feather-light; but her substance is real. Can she be made of painted light?" (223).
bela e curiosa biografia - assinada por uma pintora - que se lê avidamente e assenta sobretudo em detalhes técnicos. são colocadas inúmeras questões: que zona da casa utilizava como estúdio? qual a preparação prévia das telas? que pigmentos e pincéis empregou e porquê? teria utilizado lentes e uma "camera obscura"? e, como sempre, as questões geram mais perguntas que respostas. a verdade é que (com base em resultados de análises espectrais, reflectrogramas, infravermelhos, etc) se conclui que ninguém concebeu imagens e as pintou como ele e, apesar de apenas pouco mais de três dezenas de quadros terem chegado até nós, o seu lugar no olimpo da pintura é inquestionável.
I was absorbed by this book. An art book in a sleuthy kind of way. The effort of Ms. Jelley to find an answer to how Vermeer created his paintings was brilliant though still, because there is no outstanding evidence from Vermeer himself it still ends with no one knows. How she went about and the case she lay's out is impressive and persuasive. Intelligently written. Heavily footnoted for further references. Well thought out and really leaves you with a new perspective on one of the early masters and how he may have composed his pictures. A good read for any person interested in art history and composition/structure of early Dutch works. I liked it very much !
I read this book in anticipation of seeing the major Vermeer exhibition at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, and as a non-painter myself, it gave me insight into how the Sphinx of Delft might have created his luminous masterpieces. Jelley is an artist herself and she tries, in a non-gimmicky way, to reproduce the paints, canvases, and working conditions, and of course, spends a lot of time considering the looming question of the camera obscura as one of Vermeer's possible tools. Detailed but not too dense or technical to read, this is a worthy addition to anyone interested in deep diving into this mysterious painter.
A wonderful treatise on a painter we know little about and who left few clues. I heard Jane Jelley at the Hay festival and was enraptured. Her work brings Vermeer's Delft to life and is a treasure trove of fascinating detail; in her studio she emulates what Vermeer was likely to have done to produce such exquisite paintings. This a thoroughly researched and readable masterpiece on one of the greatest painters ever.
Based on an academic paper, Jane Jelley writes this book about Vermeer life as an artist in 17th century Delft city.
Fantastic details are given such as the visit to Vermeer in 1663 by traveler Balthasar de Monconys, where Vermeer decided do not show any of his oeuvre with the thoughts of perhaps hiding some of his techniques and tools that are still a mystery to this days. Records of Antonie van Leeuwenhoek provided – highly likely an acquaintance of Vermeer and inventor of the Microscope – and possibly the man portraited in The Astronomer / The Geographer pictures.
Plenty of reasoning and discussion is done about composition of his paintings – which pigments were used – Vermeer used a lot of lapis lazuli (more expensive than gold at his time), brushes, canvas techniques.
Most important of all, the author experiments herself with camera obscura techniques and gives all the context and reasoning to make it hard to believe that Vermeer didn’t use some advanced combination of printing techniques with lenses and camera obscura. This is in no way a detriment of Vermeer’s superb genius making him unarguably one of the all time best painters.
One final note, through this book one finds why an hard economic recession through Netherlands where even getting food on the table for Vermeer many children was a struggle had him paint his “Lady Seated at a Virginal”, without the beautiful light coming from the window and a sad girl face, like a premonition to his end. This and many other insights provided are well worth the reading.
Since I didn't make it to the exhibit "Vermeer and the Masters of Genre Painting" at the National Gallery last year, I treated myself to this and the exhibition guide. Jelley is an able detective, thorough researcher and strong writer as she explores Vermeer's context, technique, materials and possible use of the camera obscure via her own explorations with it using materials Vermeer had available. She does not claim to reach a definitive conclusion but shows the possibilities and leaves the question open, as it should be since there's no solid evidence.
I always enjoy reading more about the "Sphinx of Delft" and greatly enjoyed this deep dive into Vermeer. Thankfully, I've seen several Vermeer's in situ as well as at the 2001 MMoA exhibition "Vermeer and the Delft School."
In a word: glorious. Only a painter, and one with amazing attention to detail and excellent research skills, could so clearly articulate the likely process in which Vermeer worked. She also gives a wonderful history of the time and place in which he lived and worked, which fills in a few blanks. She even goes so far as to perform experiments herself in an attempt to shed light on various technical possibilities. Viewing these paintings after reading this book will be a richer experience. The only downside to the book is the deplorable punctuation, commas thrown about like sprinkles, incongruous forms of words etc. that should have been corrected by a decent editor.
Phenomenal book, which did not only deepen my fascination with Vermeer and his works, but also with the inovativeness of dutch scholars in all areas: optics to farming, engineering. The exquisite investigation in this book of Vermeer‘s working means, technique, style is truly astonishing: scientifically and literarily. Fantastic work of Jelley in writing this forensics literature of the ever magnetic Vermeer.
I appreciate authors that do their homework, relate who lived and what hapenns I'm and around the times and give an informed speculation on the empty zones of the subjects history. This is done well in this book. Thank you.
4,5⭐️ I felt like Robert Langdon chasing down another mysterious puzzle… but in clogs and with a stroopwafel in hand. Next time I’m in Delft, I’ll definitely follow the traces of Vermeer — who knows, maybe that charming little cheese shop is actually his secret workshop in disguise?