The Illusion of Flesh in Dutch Seventeenth-‐Century Portraiture:
Gender, Materiality and Immateriality in the age of Rembrandt and
Frans Hals.
It is the skill of an accomplished artist who can create the illusion of human flesh and breathe life into representations of the human figure. Art critics and art viewers alike have long scrutinized the illusion of flesh as a means of testifying to the illusion of the artwork as a whole. Not only does a competent (realistic) portrayal of flesh imbue a material representation of the human body with an immaterial essence, life, but also the act of creating skin in such a
manner attests to a high level of skill. The artistic representation of skin is very complex and thus presents us with a rich topic for research. As in the words of Art Historian Anne-‐Sophie Lehmann, the study of flesh brings together three central elements of painting: ‘the painter’s materials, the craft of painting, and the lifelike depiction of the body’1. All these aspects take even more resonance when we consider that the Seventeenth Century was allowing for more
experiments than ever with the oil medium, especially in the Netherlands. It was after all, as Dutch-‐American artist Willem de Kooning put it, ‘oil painting’, that was ‘invented to paint flesh’2.
In my research, I will attempt to investigate the material processes that Dutch Seventeenth-‐Century artists employed to create the illusion of flesh and in doing so will draw connections between practical art history (the tools and materials) and representation. I also intend to explore the differences in the handling of flesh tones between men and women, looking at both the how and, eventually, why.
1 Anne-‐Sophie Lehmann is an Art Historian who specialises in artistic materials, tools and practices, developing a process-‐based approach to material culture. Ann-‐Sophie Lehmann, ‘Fleshing out the body, The ‘colours of the naked’ in workshop practice and art theory, 1400 – 1600’, Body and Embodiment in Netherlandish Art, Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art 58, ed. By A. Lehmann & H. Roodenburg, (Zwolle: Waanders 2008) p103.
2 Anne-‐Sophie Lehman, Marjolijn Bol, ‘Painting Skin and Water: Toward a Material
Iconography of Translucent Motifs in Early Netherlandish Painting’, Rogier van der Weyden in Context, (Leuven 2009) p216.
I will do this by, where possible, studying pendant pairs of portraits in which the illusion of flesh across the male and female was conceived by the artist at the same time. Pendant portraits are imagined by the artist as a pair and thus, although different grounds can be used and manipulated, the style and light that the figures are rendered in is often comparably similar. The comparable man and woman, or husband and wife, must be of a similar age to make sure their flesh is in more or less the same state. This allows for a fair comparison of the methods and tools used by the artist. I have also looked at a double portrait to compare the illusion of flesh across the sexes, although here, there are different
considerations as the couple have been rendered on the same ground.
The material processes employed by the artist to create the illusion have been examined with the naked eye, which where possible, has been supported with technical reports. This limits the examples possible for this research to portraits that are available to view in Dutch Collections. The comparable portraits, or pendant, must be in roughly the same condition and state of conservation.
The portraits that will be examined have been picked to illustrate different examples that span the two of the most popular cities for portraiture production, Amsterdam and Haarlem; my sections have been organised thus. Within one city, the materials and craft of two artists, working at a contemporary time to each other have been examined. In my discussion of Amsterdam
Portraitists I have chosen to look at Rembrandt (1606 – 1669) and Abraham van den Tempel (c. 1622 – 1672), looking at examples from both the early and late oeuvre of Rembrandt. From Haarlem, I will investigate the technical processes employed by Frans Hals (c. 1583 – 1666) and Johannes Cornelisz Verspronck (c. 1601/03 – 62).
I will start my looking at some of the contemporary literature and recipe books that gave practical instruction as to how to transform paint into realistic flesh; the invention of oil paint and the affordances it gave to artists being a crucial part of this.
The Illusion of flesh: A Historiography.
In exploring the illusion of flesh, it is essential to study the materials and artistic practices within their historical context. The precedence that was given to the processes of creating flesh in the contemporary literature illustrates how important the illusion of flesh was to the critics and artists of seventeenth-‐ century Netherlands; it would seem that painting flesh was an integral part to the whole art of painting. One cannot help recall poet Lucas de Heere’s ode to the Ghent altarpiece when thinking about the affect that a convincing portrayal of human flesh had at the time. Although the ode was written in the 16th Century, it was recalled by Karel van Mander (1548 – 1606), a Flemish art historian and theoretician, who was also the student of de Heere, in the Seventeenth Century; it must then have been an example of illustrious artistry to be adhered to. In the ode, de Heere appears to be most struck by the lifelikeness appearance of the figures: ‘How frightened and lifelike Adam stands? Who ever saw more flesh-‐like body tints?’3. De Heere directly links the representation of the flesh specifically to the overall realistic illusion of the figures and thus demonstrates how it was the capabilities of a skilled artist who could apply flesh color in the right way to bring their figures to life.
Lucas de Heere’s ode also brings to light one of the key concerns within the creation of flesh; flesh ‘tints’, or coloring. Karel van Mander certainly saw colouring as an essential part to creating a successful representation of skin and gives specific instructions as to what colours and paints to use. In the twelfth chapter of his instructive poem ‘Den grondt der edel vrij schilder-‐const’ (1604), van Mander explains the processes that one should take to achieve flesh tints that ‘glow like flesh’, including the instruction that one should use vermillion as opposed to carmine as carmine is too cold in tone4. To create a warm flesh tone, ochre is recommended instead. For Van Mander, a specific flesh colour ‘requires at least as many different hues as a landscape’ ; shadows and heightening was to be varied and subtle within the creation of flesh, avoiding the stark contrasts of
3 As cited by Lehmann in ‘Fleshing out the body’, p93 & p94
white and black5. Van Mander goes on to explain how different flesh tints should be mixed depending on the age, gender or profession of the subject; clearly flesh color is tied to the object it denotes. In her carefully researched article ‘Fleshing out the Body. The ‘colours of the naked’ in workshop practice and art theory 1400 – 1600’, Anne-‐Sophie Lehmann goes on to conclude, by looking at Van Mander’s Schilder-‐boeck also, that according to Van Mander, the depiction of flesh is so important to the success of a skilled artist that ‘a good colourist is by definition a good flesh painter’6. As Lehmann states, ‘flesh colour’ is the only specific colour that Van Mander uses, elsewhere just using the word ‘colour’ generically.
Anne-‐Sophie Lehmann goes on to trace the first mention of ‘flesh colour’ in Dutch art theory to the writer, Jean Lemaire de Belges (c. 1473 – c. 1525), a Walloon poet and historian. Just as Van Mander gives specific instructions on pigments that should and shouldn’t be used in a realistic depiction of human skin, Lemaire’s attitude to the subject is just as complex. For Lemaire, flesh colour is the only colour that needs to be properly made and requires specific attention from the person who is mixing the pigments; it would seem yet again that a certain degree of innate skill comes into the creation of the illusion of flesh, seemingly above many other objects in a painting, at least in terms of correct colouring7. In fact, in the tenth chapter of his ‘Groot Schilderboek’ (1708), Gerard de Lairesse (1641 – 1711) thinks that the realistic depiction of flesh, or ‘Koleur der Naakten’ is such a complex issue that he says ‘I find there is so much to say about it that it is impossible to fit into one chapter’8. For the Art Theorists of the time, and in the wake of the new developments in oil paint which allowed for such a much more realistic portrayals, the illusion of human flesh was a key discussion, a discussion rooted in technical processes. Like Van Mander, De Lairesse notes that there needs to be a difference in flesh colour between
subjects, ie. gender or age and talks specifically about which pigments to use for certain cases.
5 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p99.
6 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p99
7 As cited by Lehmann in ‘Fleshing out the body’, p93. 8 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p87
The significance of the colour of flesh is again highlighted by the Dutch Art Historian, Ernst van de Wetering, in his fascinating book Rembrandt: The Painter at work, in which he discusses the artistic processes of Rembrandt as ‘a painter at work’. Van de Wetering, in a discussion on seventeenth-‐century colouristic conventions, mentions that flesh tones followed a certain set of rules and like the iconographically significant blue of Mary’s robe ‘had an important status’9. Like Jean Lemaire de Belges and Gerard de Lairesse, Van de Wetering cites Willem Beurs (1656 – 1700), a Dutch Golden Age painter and author, and his recipes in which, he too, ends with the colour of flesh and gives this topic most precedence. Beurs writes: ‘ Just as we humans consider ourselves foremost amongst animals; so, too, are we the foremost subject of the art of painting, and it is in painting human flesh that its highest achievements are to be seen’10. Van de Wetering goes on to explain that the colours with which Beurs recommends for human flesh (Lead white, light ochre, organic yellow, vermillion, red lake, red ochre, terre verte, umber and ‘coal black’) are to be found in the palettes in numerous seventeenth-‐century paintings and thus one can recognize the creation of flesh tints as formulaic and part of artistic convention. For Van de Wetering, the many manuals, recipe books as well as the physical evidence of the paintings
themselves point to the conclusion that ‘the palette for flesh colour represented the worthiest task of the painter’11.
As well as knowing the different colours that were used to create flesh, it is important to know when and how these colours were used and in what layer. In her essay Technical Examinations in Perspective, Petria Noble, then
conservator at the Mauritshuis, now head of restoration at the RijksMuseum, gives a detailed, technical account of how paintings were built up in the seventeenth century. In early modern Netherlandish painting techniques, the imprimatura layer was used and then a subsequent deadcolouring layer to add pure blocks of tonal layers, which added depth to the upper layer of detail and colour. Noble explains that in her explorations of the Portraits in the Mauritshuis,
9 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’, (Amsterdam University Press 1997) p144
10 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p147 11 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p148
it is the combination of greyish undermodelling which is sometimes then also combined with brown undermodelling which gives flesh colour its cool
undertone12. Noble notes how towards the end of the sixteenth century, artists began to be more economical with their processes, to rise to the growing demand for portraits, and reduced the number of paint layers, often leaving the undermodelling exposed as either shadow or highlight. Noble notes specifically how this was important for creating flesh tints as the underlayers could either be left open or partially covered with semi-‐opaque layers to produce delicate half-‐ shadows13. This became more popular throughout the century and seems to appear more often than creating flesh tints the other way round; that is painting brownish shadow over bright white and pink grounds. This technique, which was often supported with wet-‐on-‐wet rapid brushstrokes, is very evocative of Rembrandt or Frans Hals where colour and tonal effects are more crucial to the creation of the illusion than the form itself. There is much literature on
Rembrandt’s ‘loose’ technique that I will go on to relay in my discussion on the illusion of human flesh. In opposition to this, as Noble also records, the illusion of flesh can also be portrayed in a very fine and detailed way as in the works of the fijnschilders. Noble exemplifies this way of working with Casper Netscher who smoothly blended his flesh tones and then added glazes over the top as
highlights to produce ‘smooth, highly finished surfaces’14.
In a discussion on the literature of the illusion of flesh, it is difficult not to mention Rubens who is synonymous with his depictions of fleshy corporeal females. In ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’, Karolien De Clippel
discusses the artistic processes that Rubens used to create the flesh of his figures and places this within a historical discourse that saw Rubens reacting to a
contemporary debate about flesh colouring. For De Clippel, Rubens made the ‘realistic depiction of skin a primary concern’ of his painting15. De Clippel, like Anne-‐Sophie Lehmann and Paul Taylor traces the discourse around the lifelike
12 Petria Noble, ‘Technical examinations in perspective’, in Ben Broos and Ariane van Suchtelen (eds.), Portraits in the Mauritshuis, (Den Haag/Zwolle 2004) p332
13 Petria Noble, ‘Technical examinations in perspective’ p332 14 Petria Noble, ‘Technical examinations in perspective’ p333
15 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’, Netherlands Yearbook
depiction of skin to Van Mander, who saw something in Italian works, most importantly Titian, that was lacking in the work of the Netherlandish artists. Van Mander noted flesh colour that was warmer, plumper and softer than the ‘fish or stone-‐like bodies of his compatriots’16. Paul Taylor, in his illuminating article on ‘The glow’ assimilates this warm illusion within flesh as a technique called gloein. According to Van Mander, Hendrik Goltzius brought the technique back from Italy and Taylor shows how artists emulated the illusion by applying a layer of red paint in the undermodelling of the flesh tints. This idea is supported by technical explorations such as those by Petra Noble, previously discussed. For example, the importance of this ‘glow’ within flesh colouring is shown by Van Mander who often praised it. He described The Death of the Virgin by Pieter Aetsen as ‘a very distinguished and artful work’ because it was ‘very glowing in the nude parts and well-‐coloured’; clearly an effective gloein was integral to the flesh tint itself17. De Clippel discusses Rubens in light of this discourse around the ‘glow’ and flesh tints as Rubens, like Van Mander, noted a tendency for artists to depict their figures in a cold, opaque, un-‐lifelike way, remarking that human skin should be anything but ‘marble tinged with various colours’18. De Clippel, uses the example of Rubens’s Suzanna (1608) to show how ‘dead marble has made way for living woman’s flesh’ by using a variety of warm tints in the underpainting and creating ‘gentle contours in pure red lake’; pale, cool, fishy tints are nowhere to be seen19 20. For De Clippel, ‘In Ruben’s interpretation the skin is no longer a border or covering of the body but has become part of the flesh beneath’ and in its successful lifelikeness elicits an illusion that makes Rubens’s figures palpable to the viewer and even inspires the desire to touch.21
Alongside the pigments and colouring of flesh, the contemporary literature also gives instruction on what tools an artist should use to correctly achieve certain fleshy effects. Seventeenth-‐century art theory reveals that there were three main stages in the production of a painting, ‘the inventing, the dead-‐
16 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p99 17 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p99
18 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p145 19 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p147 20 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p147 21 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p147
colouring’ and the ‘working up’22. I have already discussed the dead-‐colouring and will not go on to look at the ‘working up’ and how certain effects and illusions were achieved. The realistic depiction of skin not only calls for a
variation of tones and colour but texture; whether it be wrinkles, marks or pocks, the surface of flesh is uneven and complex. Paradoxically, as advised in much if the literature of the time on the ‘smooth’ style, the paint must be smoothly applied to adhere to the illusion of the painting as a whole. Van Mander in his Schilder-‐boeck discusses that before a choice of the right flesh pigments is made, the texture and variations in the subject being depicted must be first carefully observed23. This then translates into how the artist must manipulate the paint with the right tools in order to give the right effect. Karel van Mander, Gerard de Lairesse and a bit later, Arnold Houbracken (1660 – 1719) all instruct on the importance of the right brush when creating the illusion of flesh. Van Mander and De Lairesse both recommend vispenseel or visschen brushes which were fanning brushes made out of very soft hair from otters of sea lions so that
delicate blending could be achieved24. The soft brush meant that the surface took on an idealised effect and the brush was even sometimes called a ‘sweetener’25.
In her article, Lehmann uses an interesting example to illustrate this idea of ‘sweetening’. She cites an account that Houbracken gave about the artist Nicolaes Maes when apparently he had to even out the realistic pockmarks he gave his patron in her portrait and even them out with a vispeeseel26. Arnold
Houbracken cites:
‘A certain lady (whose name I do not wish to mention), far from the fairest in the land, had her portrait painted by him, which he depicted as it was with all the pockmarks and scars. When she arose and beheld herself in all her ugliness she said to him: ‘The devil, Maas, what kind of monstrous face have you painted of me! I do not wish it thus, the dogs would bark at it were it to be carried in the street like this,’ Maas, who saw in a trice what was
22 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p27 23 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p99
24 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p96 25 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p96 26 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p96
required of him, said: ‘Madam, it is not yet finished’, and asks her to seated once ore. He took a badger-‐hair brush and removed all those pockmarks, put a blush on the cheeks and said: ‘Madam, now it is ready, please come and inspect it,’ Having done so she said: Yes, that is how it should be.’ She was satisfied when it did not resemble her’27
It would seem that a realistic representation was not always for the best; it was up to the artist to find a balance between a realistic illusion and a flattering one. This becomes even more relevant in a discussion of portraits, particularly of females, where all too often we see peachy, smooth complexions that could not have always been a faithful description of reality. Indeed, in her discussion of seventeenth-‐century portraiture conventions from her book ‘Rembrandt’s Women’, Art Historian Julia Lloyd Williams also makes this point. Williams makes reference to smallpox and its marking results on the face, a common illness of the time, and remarks that Maes ‘could not possible have been the only painter who made pockmarks disappear with a wave of his brush’28.
The particular movement of the soft ‘sweetening’ brush, and how it was to be used was also important and similar descriptive vocabulary can be found across the contemporary art literature. Where Van Mander says that flesh paint should be applied ‘softly, meltingly’, de Lairesse describes a ‘swinging, waving’ movement29. All these words point to a process of creation that was fluid but delicate; the flesh must be applied in the same way that it tangibly appears in real life, soft and wavy. However, although much of the contemporary literature agrees on this particular process, there are artistic techniques and nuances within the way an artist uses his brushes that are perceptibly different. These differences can be explained by Ernst van de Wetering’s discussion on
Rembrandt’s artistic processes and the debate on the ‘rough and smooth’
manners of painting, which ‘must have been a considerable topic of discussion in seventeenth-‐century workshops’30. According to De Lairesse, the paint should be
27 Julia Lloyd Williams, ‘Rembrandt’s Women’, (Prestel Press 2001) p30
28 Julia Lloyd Williams, ‘Rembrandt’s Women’ p30 29 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p96
applied ‘evenly and lushly’31 which meant that the brushwork across the whole painting should appear smooth and uniform. For De Lairesse, the ‘daubing’ technique which Rembrandt ( and Lievens ) used in their works, created an ineffective illusion as the ‘colours run down the piece like dung’32. Van de Wetering explains how Rembrandt’s brushwork and illusionism is different to the controlled use of elements and smooth brushwork which De Lairesse, and much of the art-‐theory of the time, advises; it is important to have an
understanding of both these manners of applying paint in order to look at the artistic processes in creating the illusion of flesh in more detail. Van de Wetering describes Rembrandt’s ‘daubing’ or, ‘rough manner’ of painting as ‘painterly painting’ which can be associated with Titian’s style and the term sprezzatura33 . The term sprezzatura was translated as ‘looseness’ and often was used in lieu with a nobleman who gave off the air as having ‘effortless nonchalance’34. It is easy to see how this term could be applied to the loose and flowing yet highly skilled illusionistic brushwork of Rembrandt whose, according to Ernst ‘emphasis in his work is on the casualness, the almost chance nature of such effects’35. Ernst links this style of brushwork with Titian who, like Rembrandt, could transform his technique and paint directly onto the canvas without preparatory drawings, ‘tonal and colour values taking precedence over form’36.
Rembrandt could skilfully employ both a ‘rough’ manner or ‘smooth’ effect to his works, including the illusion of flesh. Just as the ‘smooth’ manner created an illusion through its mimetic qualities to real life, the ‘rough’ manner included certain illusionistic tricks, which, although more painterly, rendered a painting with movement and life. Van de Wetering describes how the rapid, loose, and fleeting brushwork of Rembrandt means that contours and under drawings, which can appear contrived, are avoided in the ‘loose manner’. Although brushstrokes are more visible, the illusion is perhaps made more real
31 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p156 32 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p156 33 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p190 34 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p162 35 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p172 36 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p162
through the visibility of its human artistic processes as opposed to a false denial of medium although as we will go onto see in my discussion on flesh, both manners have their illusionistic merits in the depiction of skin. In the words of Ernst van de Wetering, the effect of the brushwork of Rembrandt and Jan Lievens, manipulated the surface of the picture ‘to produce a mimetic
representation of the materials depicted’; the trick of the illusion is textural and not about form. In another book on the painterly exploration of Rembrandt’s techniques, Rembrandt’s Nose, Micheal Taylor similarly describes how the artist uses his brush and the illusion this creates37. For Taylor, ‘the worked paint is the texture of what it depicts’ as ‘the artist’s brush fashions a surface that has bumps and wrinkles, minute troughs and crests, or swirls of impasto that are able to convey the puffiness of a complexion or the weight of a lace cuff’38 39. Colour, light and shade are inextricably linked to the way this brushwork is worked up; heightenings are left to shine through and according to the degree of relief in impasto, the surface can reflect light and create shadow accordingly. Ernst describes how Rembrandt’s brushwork does thus and that his loose brushwork and heavy impasto is skilled artistic procedure and not the result of ‘unfinished’ work as many of his contemporaries believed40.
As previously mentioned, Van Mander talks often when discussing flesh of ‘glowing flesh parts’. A huge part of the literature on flesh was concerned with the properties of oil paint and what this allowed for in the depiction of flesh; with oil paint came translucent glazes and an ability to create thin layers which
nuances highlights and shadows to give this ‘glowing’ effect. As Lehmann states in her article ‘Painting Skin and Water -‐ Towards a Material Iconography of Translucent Motifs’, the introduction of oil created a ‘mimetic relation between the medium and actual human skin’; oil paint allows for a smooth transformation from material to representation41. In order to explore these qualities, it is
necessary to revisit Paul Taylor’s article ‘The Glow in late Sixteenth and
37 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p190
38 Michael Taylor, ‘Rembrandt’s Nose: Of Flesh & Spirit in the Master’s Portraits’,
(Distributed Art Publishers 2007) p51
39 Michael Taylor, ‘Rembrandt’s Nose…’ p51
40 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p220 41 Anne-‐Sophie Lehman,, ‘Painting Skin and Water…’ p216
Seventeenth Century Dutch Paintings’. In this article, Taylor examines the Dutch words ‘gloed’, ‘gloeyentheyt’, ‘gloedich’ and ‘gloeyend’ that appeared often in the contemporary art literature. I think that an understanding of the concept ‘the glow’ is essential in understanding technical processes behind the illusion of flesh. Taylor traces the meaning as having shifted during the century. For Taylor, Karel van Mander employs the term to discuss a technique that was brought back from Italy by Hendrick Goltzius in the winter of 1590, which was different from the way Gerard de Lairesse and Willem Goeree used the in the 1670s and later. Van Mander uses ‘gloeyend’ to describe a way of rendering flesh that he saw as specifically coming from Italian artists. In ‘gloeyend’, Van Mander saw flesh tones that were built up smoothly and fleshy forms that were ‘created almost entirely through smooth modelling’; underpainting and soft
undermodelling is used to create fleshy form as opposed to underdrawings which could show through the thin paint layers and appear harsh42. The effect of translucency was achieved by drawing thin glazes over the undermodelling and ground, which in Van Mander’s eyes created ‘a glowing translucent effect’43. It was the coloring however which Van Mander saw as most crucial to a good ‘gloeyend’. Van Mander sees a warmth used by the Italian artists, and then Goltzius and Badens, in the rendering of flesh tones that is in stark contrast to the ‘stony greyness, or pale, fishy, coldish colour that he saw in the human figures in the works of Netherlandish artists44 . For Van Mander, flesh tints should be portrayed with red and ochre tints ‘to express the lifeblood under the skin’45.
Contrastingly, and very interestingly to note, Paul Taylor argues that Gerard de Lairesse, later in the century, took the term ‘glowing’ to mean ‘pure’ but also ‘advancing to they eye’46. In the creation of the illusion of flesh then, we must also think about its spatial relations to the pictorial whole as the glow helps
42 Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art Theory’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 55 (1992) p162
43Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art Theory’, p163
44 Karel van Mander, as cited in Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art
Theory’, p162
45 Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art Theory’, p163 46 Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art Theory’, p175
to construct a plausible reality. For Lairesse, the glowing manner in the way that Van Mander praised it was not desirable as did not match the colouring of
nature. Lairesse thought instead that ‘the glow’ was used successfully when used ‘purely for the power of effect’and that artists such as Rembrandt and Lievens introduced the glow into the fleshy shadows of their figures to help them construct a three-‐dimensional effect47. In thinking about the spatial term ‘houding’ in which ‘composition and fitting arrangement’ is organised through ideas of symmetry, analogy, harmony and proportion to create a plausible space, the correct blending of shadows around flesh tones is essential to make sure the figures occupy their proper space48. In his Groot Schilderboek , Lairesse explains this by talking about colours which recede and advance towards the eye; the glow of the flesh must be painted correctly so that the figure holds its position in the pictorial space, whether that be in the foreground or background49. This concept was clearly important as is illustrated by a very similar instruction by Samuel van Hoogstraten. Hoogstraten, advises that ‘a girl’s breasts or an
outstretched hand’ are usually given ‘a distinct shadow’ on either side in order to make them stand out50.
For Ernst van de Wetering, the debate on the ‘loose and rough manners’ also calls into question this idea of spatial illusion and is a key aspect in
understanding Rembrandt’s artistic processes as a painter. This idea of houding and successful pictorial wholes can stem from a correct use of colour, as in the case of De Lairesse, in which bold colours advance and muted colours recede but also by contour and even the texture of the paint itself; all these elements are used by the skilled artist who needs to apply they correctly to create a
convincing space. Van de Wetering explains that what Hoogstraten ( and De Lairesse ) means is that thick impasto paint obviously attracts the eye and thus advances towards the viewer, whereas smoothly applied paint recedes as it lacks
47 Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art Theory’, p171
48 Samuel Van Hoogstraten, as cited by Paul Taylor in ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch
Art Theory’, p. 214
49 Paul Taylor, ‘The Concept of Houding in Dutch Art Theory’, p172 50 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p186
‘optical achorage’51. In fact, again Van de Wetering ties Rembrandt with texture citing that the statement ‘Neither one colour of another will make your work seem to advance or recede, but the perceptibility or imperceptibility of the parts alone’ as crucial to how Rembrandt thought and practiced as a painter52. For example, in a
description of Rembrandt’s ‘The Jewish Bride’, Van de Wetering describes how the way the paint is applied aids spatial relations in a way that is useful to a discussion on the rendering of human flesh. Van de Wetering shows that by rendering the woman’s finger with a plasticity in which ‘the dragging hairs of the brush have drawn furrows that catch the light’, the finger catches the light and through is texture, stands out from the smooth pink and grey hand beneath, or ‘dusky background’ as Van de Wetering puts it53. Van de Wetering believes this manner of working with brush gives Rembrandt’s works an atmospheric quality, a statement I believe few could disagree with. Van de Wetering goes on to
describe the woman’s face where brushwork too has been used to create the fleshy illusion; ‘the transitions from light to shadow near the woman’s nose are not smooth, but more the result of dragging an almost dry brush over the surface’54. This atmospheric quality is created through how the paint is applied, that is smoothly or through impasto with ‘lumps and cavities’ in the paint surface which through the power of effect determines the successfulness of the pictorial whole. For Van de Wetering ‘The interaction of sharp and blurred elements continuously stimulates the eye to explore the spatial illusion of the image instead of taking for granted what it sees as in the work of so many other artists which faithfully ‘describe’ the reality that is suggested’’55.
After outlining some of the literature then that gives us a broad historical context for the artistic creation of flesh in the seventeenth-‐century, I will now turn to more gendered considerations and how the literature gives us insight into the different handling of depictions of flesh between men and women. In her research into the workshop practices behind flesh, Anne-‐Sophie Lehmann cites a
51 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p183
52 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p183 53 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p158 54 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p159 55 Ernst van de Wetering, ‘Rembrandt: The Painter at Work’ p221
Dutch manuscript compiled before 1500 as being one of the first with
distinguished male from female flesh colour. In the manuscript, lead white and ‘a little rose’ is recommended for women’s faces, whilst ‘yellow ochre’ should be used for men56. This differentiation shows the basic example of how the two differ and is mirrored in many seventeenth-‐century paintings; the woman’s pallor is often much paler and cooler than the man’s warmer skin tone. The coloring of women in such way recalls Petrarchan tradition in which feminine ideals were made up blonde hair, black eyes, white skin and red cheeks and lips. Giovanni Marinello’s Gli ornamenti delle donne (1562) exemplifies these ideals and offers some insight into the Petrarchian origins:
[The cheeks will be white and red, and nearly tender and delicate, the whitest resembling milk, lilies, white roses, and snow and the vermilion colors a pair of fleshpink roses, and purple hyacinths, as Petrarch writes in the Sonnet, “I will sing of love,” where he says:
and the vermilion roses among the snow moved by the breeze . . .
And Aristo in the Seventh Canto:
The mixed color of roses and lilies Spread across the delicate cheek
From which things we gather that four qualities are required of the cheeks, other than their position; that they be white, red, tender and delicate.]57
Although my discussion will be largely based around portraits painted by artists from the Northern Netherlands, I would like to again here turn to Rubens and the literature on the flesh of his females. In a very interesting essay on Rubens’s painting of his wife Helena Fourment, titled Het Pelsken, Margrit Thofner makes a thought provoking conclusion about the joking reference to skin in the title Het Pelsken. Thofner states that ‘The colourful beauty of the painting and its Venus-‐like sitter is, in fact only transient and skin-‐
56 Lehmann ‘Fleshing out the body’, p90
57 As cited in Patricia Phillippy, ‘Painting Women. Cosmetics, Canvases & Early Modern
deep’58. Thofner’s conclusion that Rubens is making a pun about transient beauty is well argued in her essay and in fact, supported by Karolien De Clippel’s on Rubens and how he self-‐consciously fashioned an idea of femininity in depictions of females and in doing so, defines beauty. Like the Petrarchian ideals in
Giovanni Marinello’s Gli ornamenti delle donne (cited above), Rubens’s
accentuates feminine virtues such as delicate alabaster skin and pink blushes to highlight the difference between the sexes. Whereas his depictions of men are more true to life, De Clippel argues that Rubens exaggerates ideal female qualities, to do just so, create a tangible difference. De Clippel describes how ‘translated into paint, he made female skin appear even lighter and more
transparent and, as such, clearly distinguishes from the heavily tinted carnations with reddish shadows of the male hands, which cannot resist touching it’59. In creating female flesh which was idealized, artists made their sitter’s youthful beauty ephemeral, which in turn reflected on the artist’s abilities as the tempting power of the skin translated into the tempting power of painting. De Clippel cites how Van Mander was well aware of the tempting power of skin and argued that the correct colouring of the flesh in depiction of women ‘might stir sensual desires’60. For De Clippel then, Rubens’s different handling of the flesh between depictions of men and women is about creating difference but also perhaps about the identity of the artist who wants to seduce his viewer through his brushwork.
De Clippel shows how Rubens ‘brought the contrast between male and female skin to a new artistic level’61, not only through the colouring but also through texture and the handling of the brush by making his females ‘fleshy’. This is an idea echoed by much seventeenth-‐century art theory. In opposition to hard male bodies, Van Mander advises that females should be made of plump flesh ‘with small creases and folds and dimpled hands’62. Like the literature on
58 Margit Thofner, ’Helena Fourment’s Het Pelsken’, Art History, Vol. 27, Issue 1, (Feb
2004) p26
59 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p147 60 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p148 61 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p148 62 Karolien De Clippel, ‘Defining beauty: Rubens’s female nudes’ p149
Rembrandt also exemplifies, clearly the plasticity, elasticity and overall texture was very important to art-‐theorists and artists alike. De Clippel concludes her discussion on Rubens’s female nudes by explaining the ‘palpability’ of Rubens’s female forms with two key effects; both of which have been previously discussed in this essay. Firstly, De Clippel praises the colouring which Rubens makes brighter though ‘full use of the grey iprimatura’ and secondly, the fleshy effect which is made ‘through its articulation by folds’63. Colouring and brushwork are clearly essential to creating the successful illusion of flesh and these aspects become heightened when creating differentiation between the sexes.
