Nuria07’s Weblog

After reviewing the records which Montias and others have uncovered, two facts become apparent. First, Vermeer’s paintings commanded relatively high prices when compared to many of his contemporaries. The price of six hundred livres that the baker thought reasonable for his painting compares favorably with the six hundred livres that Gerrit Dou (1613-1635) asked from de Monconys  for his Woman in a Window, clearly also a painting with only one figure. Evidently, a painting by Vermeer had the same market value asa work by Dou, whom King Charles II of England had invited to become his court painter in 1660. Dou, one of Rembrandt’s prized students, commanded very high prices for his work throughout his career.

In addition, Vermeer apparently sold his paintings to a very few affluent clients who were capable of recognizing the extraordinary quality of his work, despite the fact that his fame was not nearly as widespread as other some Dutch masters of the time,including Dou or Gerrit Ter Borch. During his life, Vermeer’s fame did not generally reach much farther than nearby The Hague. Nonetheless, word of the artist’s talent was passed from one connoisseur to another in a relatively strict circle. Other than the six occasional but distinguished buyers of a single work, only Van Ruijven could possibly be called a patron. The Delft baker, Pieter Van Buyten, had purchased one painting from the artist while he was still alive and received another two after Vermeer’s early death as payment for a huge debt the artist had accumulated. Three paintings acquired in such circumstances probably don’t establish Van Buyten as a true patron, either.

Apparently, Vermeer’s only real patron was Pieter Van Ruijven. Although the exact nature of Vermeer’s relationship with him is subject to debate, it seems likely he had acquired at least some works directly from Vermeer. In fact, Van Ruijven’s son-in-law Jacob Dissius had in his possession twenty-one Vermeer’s at the time of his death. If we accept Montias’  estimate of the total number of Vermeer’s paintings to be from 44 to 54, this would mean that either Van Ruijven, or members of his family, had bought about one half of Vermeer’s entire artistic output.

Montias himself believes that “the relationship between Van Ruijven and Vermeer went clearly beyond the routine contacts of an artist with a client.” Van Ruijven lent Vermeer money. He witnessed the will of Vermeer’s sister Gertruy in her own house shortly before her death. More significantly, Van Ruijven’s wife, Maria Knuijt, left Vermeer a conditional bequest of five hundred guilders in her will.¹ Such a testament was extremely unusual at the time.

However, the distinguished Vermeer specialist, Arthur Wheelock, has expressed reasonable doubts about the exact nature of their relationship. “The hypothesis that Van Ruijven was Vermeer’s patron, although appealing, should be cautiously approached, for no document specifies that Vermeer ever painted for Van Ruijven. Moreover, no source confirms that Van Ruijven himself had any Vermeer paintings in his possession.  While Van Ruijven may have acquired painting from Vermeer, it seems unlikely that he assumed such an important a role in the artist’s life as Montias suggests. Should Van Ruijven had been Vermeer’s patron, one would expect that Balthasar de Monconys  would have visited Van Ruijven himself in 1663, rather than the baker, Hendrick van Buyten, upon hearing that Vermeer had no paintings  at home. Similarly,  the Vermeer enthusiast Pieter Teding van Berckhout would also have made an effort to see the Van Ruijvens’ collection in 1669 on his two visits to Delft.” Wheelock further states: “While it is probable that some of the twenty Vermeer paintings listed in the inventory of 1683 ( the inventory taken after the death of van Ruijven’s daughter) came from Van Ruijven, others may have been acquired by {his daughter} Magdalena, Jacob Dissius (his son-in-law), or his (Jacob’s) father, Abraham Jacobz Dissius, at a sale of twenty-six paintings from Vermeer’s estate held at the Saint Luke’s Guild Hall on 15 May, 1677.” ²

While the precise relationship between Vermeer and van Ruijven may never be known, it is evident that the Van Ruijven family held Vermeer’s work in high regards, having, at one time or the other, assembled a significant part of the master’s oeuvre.

http://www.essentialvermeer.com/clients_patrons/vermeer’s_clients_and_patrons.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9flEIbZo-E

This painting is also composed with the Grail Geometry as a guide. The equilateral triangle whose apex is point “A” is confirmed by no less than nine features painted intentionally as guided by the triangle shown superimposed on the reproduction: 1 – the sharp point silhouetted in the window; 2 – the intersection on the globe; 3 – the inside corner of the picture frame; 4 – the upper corner of the window pane; 5 – the intersection on the window;

The Compass Points . . .

6 – the tip of the window ledge; 7 – the corner of the book; 8 – the bottom corner of the picture frame; 9 – the tip of the little finger. Note how the Geographer’s right sleeve at the elbow is guided by the left side A-4-5-6-7 of the triangle .

It may seem strange that point A is on no discernible painted feature. This is typical of Vermeer. Note that the triangle goes outside the confines of the canvas. This is also typical of Vermeer’s work. Note the posture of the Geographer – he leans forward so that his body is generally parallel with the left side of the triangle. It is hard to deny that Vermeer used this triangle as a guide to composing his work.

Why this particular triangle and not another? The answer is that this is a Grail Geometry triangle. We shall see that a special square is built on this triangle according to the principles of this secret geometric pattern. Vermeer used this pattern and no other; he was devoted to the Grail Geometry, most probably because he learned it as a young artist in a secret society. This is likely, because nothing is known for sure about Vermeer’s apprenticeship.

The Tilted Square

Following the procedure of the Grail Geometry, the corresponding Tilted Square AMNO and its diagonals AN and MO are constructed to see if confirmations emerge.

One remarkable confirmation we see is exhibited by line 10: the Geographer is pointing with his drafting compass to his left hand (!) upon which the ‘X marks the Spot’ (PX) has fallen – just as it fell in the Astronomer painting!  Other confirmations are: at point 11 – a vertical aligned with the little column on the globe that points exactly downward to PX; 12 – where the bottom of the picture frame exits the canvas as guided by diagonal MO; and 13 – where the curtain and window pane corner come together on line AO.

The existence of these two Vermeer paintings, The Geographer and The Astronomer, considered by experts as a pendant pair, with their identical geometric patterns pointing in each case to the left hand, and in each case amply confirmed, can only lead to the conclusion that Vermeer knew and used the Grail Geometry to guide his compositions. This pattern was secret at the time, so the artist must have been taught to use it in his apprenticeship by a member of a secret society. There are those who believe that this society was called “The Priory of Sion”. Circumstantial evidence is therefore presented by these analyses that Vermeer could well have been a member of such a society — in his birthplace of Delft, Holland– or wherever The Priory may have had its secret headquarters at the time.

http://www.vermeersriddlerevealed.com/geographer.shtml 

Let us see what Vermeer includes and emphasizes in order to convey not just intellectual activity, but one of those rare moments of insight. The first item to catch one’s eye is the man’s face, in part because the curves of his forehead and nose, highlighted in white, are set off sharply against the dark shadow on the armoire. Vermeer, who is exceptionally skilled at portraying details, has shown hardly any distinctive features on this man’s face – no bone structure, little variation in skin tone. Even his hair is an undistinguished brown, shoved behind his ears to keep it out of the way. The only facial feature that stands out is his eyes, narrowed in concentration, looking toward the light from the window. The absence of detail and the emphasis on the eyes indicate that this is not a portrait of a specific individual, but of a thinker.

The man’s hands, like his face, are brightly illuminated, so that our eyes are also drawn to them. The left hand, resting on a book, bears the weight of his torso: look at the straightness of the arm and the set of his shoulder. In his other hand, the dividers are poised sideways, in mid-air, rather than touching the parchment on the table. It is a fleeting pose, slightly off balance, as if he has stopped to think for a moment and will soon turn back to the parchment to continue his work. In another context the slightly bent posture might signal fatigue or old age, but here, combined with the angle of the head, it quite clearly indicates an abrupt pause while the man weighs a new idea.

Close inspection of the painting has revealed that the Geographer’s head was originally inclined toward the parchment, and the dividers were held vertically, ready to be used. Think of the difference this would have made: we would see a man hard at work, rather than at a moment of insight.

Now look at the Geographer’s robe: plain, simple, unobtrusive. What does it tell us? First, that he is motionless: it falls in straight, simple lines. Next, that he is not overly concerned with his physical appearance: this is functional clothing, not the elaborate apparel often depicted in paintings of this period. (See, for example, the costumes in many Hals and Rembrandt portraits.) But, despite its simplicity, the robe has an important visual function: the “V” shape of the red edging and the white shirt tucked beneath it both draw attention to the Geographer’s face. Cover the red and white, and some of the emphasis on his face is lost.

What about the setting? The chamber in which we see the Geographer is quite clearly his room, his work area: every item in it is for his use, on his scale, within his reach. He is the center of and the purpose for the room. The objects surrounding him are rigorously selected either to tell us more about the man’s actions or to add to the mood.

The dividers show that he is not merely looking at the maps that are scattered around him, but taking measurements for some purpose of his own. The globe, the books on top of the armoire and the map on the wall and floor are condensations of other men’s knowledge, which our Geographer uses in his own inquiries. With the exception of the globe, which catches light from the window and helps move the eye around the painting, the other props – books, armoire, window panes, framed map, chair, small table in foreground – are all strictly rectangular, and painstakingly proportioned and positioned in relation to each other and to the Geographer. They provide an unadorned, almost mathematical setting for the Geographer’s work. Imagine for a moment that the window had richly textured, looped curtains, or that the armoire was elaborately carved, the chair overstuffed, or the map frame elaborately gilt: the emphasis would shift away from the Geographer and what he’s doing.

Also notice the importance of the window. By its presence and by the fact that the man is looking toward it, it marks him as someone who is in touch with the outside world, with reality, not an ivory-tower philosopher. Again, imagine the difference if the man had his back to the window, or if he were in his study late at night, with only candlelight for illumination. But even here, Vermeer has included the bare minimum. We see the clear, bright light flooding in the window, but we cannot see out of it: there is no cityscape or landscape to distract our attention.

Despite the pared-down furnishings, Vermeer’s meticulous depiction of how the light hits different surfaces in the room makes the Geographer’s study a place so full of rich textures and colors that it almost seems luxurious. Look at the shine on the windowsill and the globe, and the creamy smoothness of the parchment spread out in front of the Geographer. Look at the heavy, matte blue fabric of his robe and the crisp white of the shirt beneath. Look at the unobtrusive but intricate tapestry covering the small, stiff chair at the right. Look at the rug in the foreground (at this period it was common to use a rug for a tablecloth), and notice how the red and blue of the Geographer’s robe are echoed in its complex pattern – and how its lush folds have been thrust aside so he can work. Observe how even the plaster wall and bare floor are made decorative by the play of light and shadow, from creamy white to deep brown. These background colors are important: they help set a warm, bright atmosphere. If the dominant colors were chilly shades of blue and the light were pure white rather than yellowish, the room would appear bleak and austere.

It is fascinating to compare The Geographer with Vermeer’s Astronomer [footnote 3], which was probably painted as a pendant to the Geographer. In the Astronomer we see a man with hair and robe very similar to the Geographer’s. He, too, faces a brightly lit window, but instead of gazing out of it, he intently studies a globe, and instead of standing frozen in mid-motion, he is seated with his hand resting on the globe. The sunlight seems less bright, and the colors certainly are – the Astronomer’s robe is deep greenish-blue, and the rug is in subdued blue and green tones. Like the Geographer, the Astronomer is engaged in rigorous intellectual activity, but we see him still gathering information. The Geographer, on the other hand, has gathered his information and has just had the moment of insight when his observations are integrated into a new level of knowledge.

“And if there had been more of the world, they would have reached it,” said Camões, with splendid arrogance, of the fifteenth-century Portuguese explorers [footnote 4]. Vermeer shows us that heroes are not only those who sail uncharted seas, but those who painstakingly integrate the sailors’ findings. Here, in a visual image that we can grasp in an instant, is a man discovering a new fact about reality in a world wide open to his inquiring mind.

I said earlier that the Geographer is about a moment of insight. Is disagreement on this point possible? Yes, but it must be based on a precise observation of the elements of the painting. It’s justifiable to say, for example, “I disagree with your interpretation based on X, which you failed to observe, and Y, which you misinterpreted.” It’s not justifiable to say, “I don’t know why, I just feel you’re off the mark.”

What about your emotional reaction to a work of art? For many of us such a reaction is the only reason we spend more than a minute gazing at a painting. Few things are as satisfying and exciting as seeing a painting that sums up your values, your view of the world. But your emotional reaction is, in fact, a combination of what the painting says and your own memories, thoughts and experiences. If your father was a geographer, you might love Vermeer’s Geographer simply because of that. If the room in the Geographer reminds you of the principal’s office in your high school, on the other hand, you may take an immediate dislike to this painting. But the painting’s theme remains the same, independent of your emotional reaction, be it positive or negative. Discussing your emotional reaction is not the same as discussing the objective meaning of the painting.

It is objective interpretation of art that we must learn to practice if we wish to make representational art dominant once again. Viewers and potential purchasers who can interpret for themselves and are confident in defending their interpretations will be eager to purchase not vacuous abstract garbage but works that have meaning.

http://www.forgottendelights.com/essay/VermeerGeographer.htm

Signature: Signed twice: on the cupboard; and signed and dated 1669 top right. All these inscriptions are dubious.

Provenance: This painting and the Astronomer (Louvre, Paris) are probably companion pieces, in spite of the fact that the sitter is looking to the left in both of them. They share the same provenance until 1778. Thus: sale Rotterdam, 1713; sale Amsterdam, 1720; sale Amsterdam, 1729; sale Amsterdam, 1778. After 1778: in 1785, both paintings were brought to Paris by the art dealer Alexandre Joseph Paillet. He intended to sell them to the French king, but was unsuccessful. Sale Amsterdam, 1797; sale Amsterdam, 1803; collection Alexandre Dumont, Cambrai; collection Isaac Pereire, 1866; sale Pereire, Paris, 1872; collection Max Kann, Paris; sale Demidoff, Palais de San Donato, Florence, 1880; sale Ad. Jos. Bösch, Vienna, 1885. There acquired by the museum.

In view of the fact that the Astronomer and the Geographer are probably pendants, and are the only works in Vermeer’s oeuvre that represent male figures involved in scholarly pursuits, we are treating them conjointly.

Until 1778, they remained together. The signatures and dates on both paintings are questionable, but they must have been executed toward the end of the 1660s.

None of these paintings appears in the sale of 1696, and were therefore commissioned by a patron who was especially interested in astronomy or the celestial sciences. In both paintings, the references to books, scientific instruments, and, in the portrait of the Astronomer, the celestial globe by Jodocus Hondius, are accurately depicted.

The latter painting features on the rear wall a picture representing the scene of the finding of Moses, which has been interpreted as being associated with the advice of divine providence in reaching, in the case of the astronomer, for spiritual guidance.

Although farfetched, it is likely that the content of the painting is associated in some way with the meaning of the work. The sea chart on the wall of the Geographer does not have any religious association. It must be remembered that the rise of interest in scientific research at the time, fostered by the newly established University of Leyden, and philosophers like Descartes, did not have any specific religious associations. Quite to the contrary, the aim was to explore the universe, and simultaneously to further Dutch navigation in its conquest of faraway lands.

Both paintings, with their interiors of scholarly studios and scientific paraphernalia, award Vermeer the opportunity for lightening effects that envelop the scientists in the mystery of an atmosphere that lifts their occupations into the realm of spirituality.

http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/v/vermeer/03d/29geogr.html