Self-portrait after Jan van Eyck
About
This self portrait is a paraphrasing on Jan van Eyck's "Man in a Red Turban" (1433; possible a self-portrait of Jan van Eyck himself). Check the collection of the National Gallery in London.
I made this acrylic painting back in 1994 when I was enrolled as an art student at the St Lucas School of Arts Antwerp (member of Karel de Grote University College, Belgium). In Dutch it is called: Sint Lucas Antwerpen.
What could have been a rather simple task turned out rather difficult.
Back then, our art professor simply instructed us to paint a self portrait under the condition of imitating a particular master´s style. We were allowed to freely pick a masterpiece of either medieval or modern times, as long as it too dealt with the portraying aspect.
While working on my piece, I slowly began to realize that in my particular case, a strict observation of the task at hand, would in fact ruin the photorealistic boundaries and seriousness of my portrait. As in my case, artificially lengthening my own nose, like Van Eyck seemed to have managed rather easily (?) with his subject´s nose, would cause an unfortunate exchange of noble portrayal for merely (bad) caricature. Too late in the run did I discover, that unlike the subject's features that Van Eyck was confronted with and so elegantly conveyed, my own facial characteristics in fact lacked the longitude necessary for that sort of procedure. If I would start lengthening my rather short nose and next to that, also the relatively broad shape of my face - so to speak in conjunction with apparent medieval portrayal standards and style - I would really have to exaggerate and therefore distort prominent and essential characteristics of my face. Then my face would have looked more of a burlesque. That way I would not be able at all to convey any aristocratic-grandeur which Jan van Eyck did so elegantly manage. Realizing that, I thought best to head for the practical compromise, leaving my nose lenght as is.
I recall, while finally presenting the finished piece in class, that an art professor from outside our class happened to drop by, making a rash remark to me about my piece: "Obviously I had not accomplished my 'proper' task". Dismissing in one swift sweep the occuring problematics of applicating Van Eyck's style of portrait, as I had avoided altogether the medieval attitude of stylishly lengthening the nose and/or face of the portrayed to impost a more noble effect.
At that time I felt confused and discomforted. My main defence argument back then was, that I suspected the man's face and nose type to be by nature already longer. Thus making it an easy job regarding Van Eyck's assumed practice of stylish nose-lengthening. And next to that, I murmured, that I was dealing with a frustratingly new-modern problem: Jan van Eyck didn't have to deal with fancy big eyewear! (as I am wearing glasses).
How on earth, I puzzled myself, could one 'lengthen' this already big glasses of mine, without getting a ridiculous result altogether?!? And simply leaving out the glasses wasn't an option for me, as everyone knew me with spectacles. Did I not venture out to create a worthwile, naturalistic selfportrait?!? Being the very reason I picked me this portrait of a so-called Flemish Primitive !?! Fascinated by the overwhelming photograph-like realism of the Flemish Primitives. And besides: visualising a pair of glasses with its transparent and reflective qualities surely had of course a strong painterly appeal on me.
Adding to the complexities of the project, and only later on, I stumbled unto another set of problematics with the rendering of my spectacles: The spectacle frame striving towards the ear, visually wouldn't fit that naturally with an actual Turban!
Furthermore, I had to paint this paraphrase without seeing the original. Some day, mabe I´ll go and see the splendid original. Then of course I´ll be totally eager to see what´s the exact colouring of that red turban?!? Back in 1994, my only actual colour reference was no more than that printed image from one book. Up till now, I have not regretted this circumstance.
Also it was the first time, I actually experienced some of the impediments of acrylics compaired to oils. With oils, not only you gain more brilliancy in colour. Also oil is also marvelous when it comes to mixing the tones of human skin and nuancing edges of colour. Experiencing the particular handicaps of acrylic paints was and still is rather frustrating. And if these constraints keep pushing me unto more discipline and a craft as an acrylic painter, all the better.
Some Secrets of the Painting Masters
Nowadays I gladly realize, that in contrast to the heedless remark and dismissal of my experimental self portrait by one of the art professors, I nonetheless didn't deliver such a lousy job altogether. Since it now appears to me, that Jan van Eyck was in no manner manipulating this man's portrait for the sake of a stylish noble looking lengthened nose whatsoever. What I know nowadays, is that this little and refined gem of a portrait, probably may have been rendered very close to reality. Maybe even with the help and use of optical instruments like a 'Camera Lucida' or a 'Camera Obscura' (?)
A Camera Lucida is an optical device enabling through a lense projection's trick, for the tracing of an object's projected image onto a plane surface. The artist, keeping his head still, manages with the help of a lense on a tiny tripod (or clipping attachment device), to view simultaneously the observed subject and a drawing surface for sketching it.
A Camera obscura is in fact a pinhole camera used as a drawing aid; a dark box with a pinhole projects an upside-down image, although by using mirrors it is then possible to project a right-side-up image.
Maybe it is the case, that in fact the Van Eyck-brothers where not interested as much in rendering the 'noble look', as they were dazzled by the photographic rendering of reality by means of optical devices (concave mirrors and lenses). This and more you can read in the book "Secret Knowledge" written by David Hockney (2001).
With this publication David Hockney makes a the controversial case, suggesting that lots of medieval artists, like the brothers Hubert and Jan van Eyck, did likely not work freehand. But rather making use of concave mirrors to project real images in order to counterfeit their masterpieces (tracing technique via optics). Hockney makes the case that the usage of optical instruments with mirrors and lenses rather quickly spread through the whole of medieval Europe, notwithstanding all entrepreneurial secrecy coming with it. Revolutionizing painterly practice until its highest achievements in the Golden Age of the seventeenth century. A high-culture of illusionistic painting that all too smoothly went on until the 19th century brought forth its next logical step: the total mechanizing of the camera obscura's optical tricks via the invention of photographical recording by means of light-sensitive material, first on plates, glass, and later unto celluloid film and photograpic paper, unto recently the digitalization methods.
David Hockney delivers a strong case in his book "Secret Knowledge" in pointing out with plenty of visual evidence based on characteristics of showcased paintings, how widespread this innovative techniques of 'Camera Lucida' and 'Camera Obscura' really became, and as such completely pervaded our whole known visual canon of art history. This book's study may arouse a fresh interest in the historical uses of optical devices as aids to draughtsmanship.
Imagine how these optical instruments made it possible, not only to represent with stunning accuracy the most complex subjects, but what is more, revolutionizing the process speed of painting, installing a whole new business market for quality portrayals. And yes, the brothers Van Eyck seem to have their equal share, both in the inventing of better varnishes, as well as in their application of cutting edge optical technology unto extreme photorealism.
The suspicion that Jan Van Eyck may have regularly used optical instruments did not come as a suprise to me either. I did paint the red turban by means of an enlargened xerox copy in black and white from a book. (Note that the original portrait measures the format of a postcard!). And after I simply traced the xeroxed turban shapes, I had to try to colour it appropriately. And I do recall, how inadequate I felt as a painter myself while processing the shapes and colours of the turban in that particular portrait. I quickly came to realize how frightening exact and complex the whole structure of textile folds appears! Leaving me innerly confused about such a baffling craftmanship. So today I am deeply glad and much relieved, that I no longer have to compete with this painterly-illusionistic unbeatable instruments called 'Camera lucida' and 'Camera Obscura' (or even todays photography and digitalization!).
Bibliography:
'Secret Knowledge: Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters' - David Hockney - published: October 2001
About
This self portrait is a paraphrasing on Jan van Eyck's "Man in a Red Turban" (1433; possible a self-portrait of Jan van Eyck himself). Check the collection of the National Gallery in London.
I made this acrylic painting back in 1994 when I was enrolled as an art student at the St Lucas School of Arts Antwerp (member of Karel de Grote University College, Belgium). In Dutch it is called: Sint Lucas Antwerpen.
What could have been a rather simple task turned out rather difficult.
Back then, our art professor simply instructed us to paint a self portrait under the condition of imitating a particular master´s style. We were allowed to freely pick a masterpiece of either medieval or modern times, as long as it too dealt with the portraying aspect.
While working on my piece, I slowly began to realize that in my particular case, a strict observation of the task at hand, would in fact ruin the photorealistic boundaries and seriousness of my portrait. As in my case, artificially lengthening my own nose, like Van Eyck seemed to have managed rather easily (?) with his subject´s nose, would cause an unfortunate exchange of noble portrayal for merely (bad) caricature. Too late in the run did I discover, that unlike the subject's features that Van Eyck was confronted with and so elegantly conveyed, my own facial characteristics in fact lacked the longitude necessary for that sort of procedure. If I would start lengthening my rather short nose and next to that, also the relatively broad shape of my face - so to speak in conjunction with apparent medieval portrayal standards and style - I would really have to exaggerate and therefore distort prominent and essential characteristics of my face. Then my face would have looked more of a burlesque. That way I would not be able at all to convey any aristocratic-grandeur which Jan van Eyck did so elegantly manage. Realizing that, I thought best to head for the practical compromise, leaving my nose lenght as is.
I recall, while finally presenting the finished piece in class, that an art professor from outside our class happened to drop by, making a rash remark to me about my piece: "Obviously I had not accomplished my 'proper' task". Dismissing in one swift sweep the occuring problematics of applicating Van Eyck's style of portrait, as I had avoided altogether the medieval attitude of stylishly lengthening the nose and/or face of the portrayed to impost a more noble effect.
At that time I felt confused and discomforted. My main defence argument back then was, that I suspected the man's face and nose type to be by nature already longer. Thus making it an easy job regarding Van Eyck's assumed practice of stylish nose-lengthening. And next to that, I murmured, that I was dealing with a frustratingly new-modern problem: Jan van Eyck didn't have to deal with fancy big eyewear! (as I am wearing glasses).
How on earth, I puzzled myself, could one 'lengthen' this already big glasses of mine, without getting a ridiculous result altogether?!? And simply leaving out the glasses wasn't an option for me, as everyone knew me with spectacles. Did I not venture out to create a worthwile, naturalistic selfportrait?!? Being the very reason I picked me this portrait of a so-called Flemish Primitive !?! Fascinated by the overwhelming photograph-like realism of the Flemish Primitives. And besides: visualising a pair of glasses with its transparent and reflective qualities surely had of course a strong painterly appeal on me.
Adding to the complexities of the project, and only later on, I stumbled unto another set of problematics with the rendering of my spectacles: The spectacle frame striving towards the ear, visually wouldn't fit that naturally with an actual Turban!
Furthermore, I had to paint this paraphrase without seeing the original. Some day, mabe I´ll go and see the splendid original. Then of course I´ll be totally eager to see what´s the exact colouring of that red turban?!? Back in 1994, my only actual colour reference was no more than that printed image from one book. Up till now, I have not regretted this circumstance.
Also it was the first time, I actually experienced some of the impediments of acrylics compaired to oils. With oils, not only you gain more brilliancy in colour. Also oil is also marvelous when it comes to mixing the tones of human skin and nuancing edges of colour. Experiencing the particular handicaps of acrylic paints was and still is rather frustrating. And if these constraints keep pushing me unto more discipline and a craft as an acrylic painter, all the better.
Some Secrets of the Painting Masters
Nowadays I gladly realize, that in contrast to the heedless remark and dismissal of my experimental self portrait by one of the art professors, I nonetheless didn't deliver such a lousy job altogether. Since it now appears to me, that Jan van Eyck was in no manner manipulating this man's portrait for the sake of a stylish noble looking lengthened nose whatsoever. What I know nowadays, is that this little and refined gem of a portrait, probably may have been rendered very close to reality. Maybe even with the help and use of optical instruments like a 'Camera Lucida' or a 'Camera Obscura' (?)
A Camera Lucida is an optical device enabling through a lense projection's trick, for the tracing of an object's projected image onto a plane surface. The artist, keeping his head still, manages with the help of a lense on a tiny tripod (or clipping attachment device), to view simultaneously the observed subject and a drawing surface for sketching it.
A Camera obscura is in fact a pinhole camera used as a drawing aid; a dark box with a pinhole projects an upside-down image, although by using mirrors it is then possible to project a right-side-up image.
Maybe it is the case, that in fact the Van Eyck-brothers where not interested as much in rendering the 'noble look', as they were dazzled by the photographic rendering of reality by means of optical devices (concave mirrors and lenses). This and more you can read in the book "Secret Knowledge" written by David Hockney (2001).
With this publication David Hockney makes a the controversial case, suggesting that lots of medieval artists, like the brothers Hubert and Jan van Eyck, did likely not work freehand. But rather making use of concave mirrors to project real images in order to counterfeit their masterpieces (tracing technique via optics). Hockney makes the case that the usage of optical instruments with mirrors and lenses rather quickly spread through the whole of medieval Europe, notwithstanding all entrepreneurial secrecy coming with it. Revolutionizing painterly practice until its highest achievements in the Golden Age of the seventeenth century. A high-culture of illusionistic painting that all too smoothly went on until the 19th century brought forth its next logical step: the total mechanizing of the camera obscura's optical tricks via the invention of photographical recording by means of light-sensitive material, first on plates, glass, and later unto celluloid film and photograpic paper, unto recently the digitalization methods.
David Hockney delivers a strong case in his book "Secret Knowledge" in pointing out with plenty of visual evidence based on characteristics of showcased paintings, how widespread this innovative techniques of 'Camera Lucida' and 'Camera Obscura' really became, and as such completely pervaded our whole known visual canon of art history. This book's study may arouse a fresh interest in the historical uses of optical devices as aids to draughtsmanship.
Imagine how these optical instruments made it possible, not only to represent with stunning accuracy the most complex subjects, but what is more, revolutionizing the process speed of painting, installing a whole new business market for quality portrayals. And yes, the brothers Van Eyck seem to have their equal share, both in the inventing of better varnishes, as well as in their application of cutting edge optical technology unto extreme photorealism.
The suspicion that Jan Van Eyck may have regularly used optical instruments did not come as a suprise to me either. I did paint the red turban by means of an enlargened xerox copy in black and white from a book. (Note that the original portrait measures the format of a postcard!). And after I simply traced the xeroxed turban shapes, I had to try to colour it appropriately. And I do recall, how inadequate I felt as a painter myself while processing the shapes and colours of the turban in that particular portrait. I quickly came to realize how frightening exact and complex the whole structure of textile folds appears! Leaving me innerly confused about such a baffling craftmanship. So today I am deeply glad and much relieved, that I no longer have to compete with this painterly-illusionistic unbeatable instruments called 'Camera lucida' and 'Camera Obscura' (or even todays photography and digitalization!).
Bibliography:
'Secret Knowledge: Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters' - David Hockney - published: October 2001
Wikipedia on Camera Lucida.
Check out a modern Camera Lucida.
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