In his “Aristotle with a Bust of Homer”, the light appears to be a byproduct of the act of contemplation. The radiance of Homer’s baldpate resonates with the illumination of Aristotle’s face, his features gathered in pensive reflection. The light therefore serves not to emphasize the external realities of the space occupied by the subject, but rather to reflect the internal workings of character and the mind. Rembrandt reaches into the dark spaces of his subject and exposes the subject’s inner self, thereby confronting the viewer with the somewhat unsettling presence of another human being.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in Rembrandt’s series of self-portraits, perhaps the most celebrated group of works within the history of western art. In his youthful portraits, the light revealed a man of building confidence and growing ability; as Rembrandt aged, the light in the self-portraits served to heighten the intensity of his craggy features, the wizened forehead and the penetrating dark gaze.
The self-portraits not only occupy a special position within Rembrandt’s oeuvre, they also inflect the character of our understanding of the artist in important ways. Although the pragmatic explanation for the profusion of self-portraits is usually that Rembrandt simply painted himself when he lacked other models, the self-portraits as a group transcend their practical exigencies in order to attain a special level of communication with viewers. Gazing at a Rembrandt self-portrait is a unique experience. The artist arranged a picture for our viewing in which he views us. His patient but demanding stare meets our own. By looking out at us through the canvas, Rembrandt teaches us how to look at him.
Moreover, he seems to attempt to engage us in a strange sort of dialogue. There is something compelling about this artist who so demands to be seen and to be known. And we continue striving to understand him, to seek him out. Yet he always withdraws, despite his seeming ubiquitous presence. He eludes our grasp and confounds our attempts to reach him.
A new 2-DVD set released by Kultur Video entitled The Rembrandt Collection presents yet another series of attempts to reach Rembrandt. Bringing together four documentaries concerning various aspects of the artist, the DVDs attempt to access Rembrandt through the records of his life, his surviving works, and the legacy of those works. The documentaries are all quite individual, approaching their subject through very different conceptual and evaluative frameworks, making the collection as a whole a rather heterogeneous but nonetheless compelling affair.
The first film presents a brief but serviceable outline of Rembrandt’s biography. Rembrandt, Painter of Man begins with two self-portraits, Rembrandt’s first and last, that were painted 40 years apart. The narrator tells us that Rembrandt’s great life-long subject was “the spirit of man in movement, joyful or tormented”. The narration is somewhat laconic; the life of the artist is merely sketched.
However, the impact of the documentary derives from its employment of the images. Every image derives from Rembrandt’s paintings. His life is told through his work. The result is quite charming. The film touches on the major works, including “The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulp” and “The Night Watch” (the latter will be featured prominently in two of the other films as well), and the important moments in his life such as his marriage to Saskia, the birth of his son, the death of Saskia, and so on. One does not learn much more than one would by reading an encyclopedia entry but the effect is strikingly different. Through the simplest of means and a faith in the power of Rembrandt’s brush to communicate the subtleties of thought and emotion, the viewer is brought into a closer relationship with the artist than would be afforded by words alone or mere snapshots of Amsterdam and interviews with a variety of talking heads.
Perhaps the strangest and least accommodating film of the set is Restoration of The Night Watch, which painstakingly documents the 1976 restoration of one of Rembrandt’s most famous masterpieces. Rembrandt painted “The Night Watch” in 1642, apparently for a commission by a captain and 17 members of his civic militia guard. The title is actually a misnomer. First, the civic guard at this time was not likely to go on patrol; it was more of a social club. Second, the scene is not set at night. Rather it was the heavy application of varnish that made the painting appear to be a nocturne to the viewers of the 18th century who gave it the name by which it is still recognized. When the painting was restored, the vibrancy of the central beam of light disabused viewers of this misconception; it is quite clear that the group is emerging into the light of day.
In his “Aristotle with a Bust of Homer”, the light appears to be a byproduct of the act of contemplation. The radiance of Homer’s baldpate resonates with the illumination of Aristotle’s face, his features gathered in pensive reflection. The light therefore serves not to emphasize the external realities of the space occupied by the subject, but rather to reflect the internal workings of character and the mind. Rembrandt reaches into the dark spaces of his subject and exposes the subject’s inner self, thereby confronting the viewer with the somewhat unsettling presence of another human being.Nowhere is this more apparent than in Rembrandt’s series of self-portraits, perhaps the most celebrated group of works within the history of western art. In his youthful portraits, the light revealed a man of building confidence and growing ability; as Rembrandt aged, the light in the self-portraits served to heighten the intensity of his craggy features, the wizened forehead and the penetrating dark gaze.The self-portraits not only occupy a special position within Rembrandt’s oeuvre, they also inflect the character of our understanding of the artist in important ways. Although the pragmatic explanation for the profusion of self-portraits is usually that Rembrandt simply painted himself when he lacked other models, the self-portraits as a group transcend their practical exigencies in order to attain a special level of communication with viewers. Gazing at a Rembrandt self-portrait is a unique experience. The artist arranged a picture for our viewing in which he views us. His patient but demanding stare meets our own. By looking out at us through the canvas, Rembrandt teaches us how to look at him.Moreover, he seems to attempt to engage us in a strange sort of dialogue. There is something compelling about this artist who so demands to be seen and to be known. And we continue striving to understand him, to seek him out. Yet he always withdraws, despite his seeming ubiquitous presence. He eludes our grasp and confounds our attempts to reach him.A new 2-DVD set released by Kultur Video entitled The Rembrandt Collection presents yet another series of attempts to reach Rembrandt. Bringing together four documentaries concerning various aspects of the artist, the DVDs attempt to access Rembrandt through the records of his life, his surviving works, and the legacy of those works. The documentaries are all quite individual, approaching their subject through very different conceptual and evaluative frameworks, making the collection as a whole a rather heterogeneous but nonetheless compelling affair.The first film presents a brief but serviceable outline of Rembrandt’s biography. Rembrandt, Painter of Man begins with two self-portraits, Rembrandt’s first and last, that were painted 40 years apart. The narrator tells us that Rembrandt’s great life-long subject was “the spirit of man in movement, joyful or tormented”. The narration is somewhat laconic; the life of the artist is merely sketched.However, the impact of the documentary derives from its employment of the images. Every image derives from Rembrandt’s paintings. His life is told through his work. The result is quite charming. The film touches on the major works, including “The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulp” and “The Night Watch” (the latter will be featured prominently in two of the other films as well), and the important moments in his life such as his marriage to Saskia, the birth of his son, the death of Saskia, and so on. One does not learn much more than one would by reading an encyclopedia entry but the effect is strikingly different. Through the simplest of means and a faith in the power of Rembrandt’s brush to communicate the subtleties of thought and emotion, the viewer is brought into a closer relationship with the artist than would be afforded by words alone or mere snapshots of Amsterdam and interviews with a variety of talking heads.Perhaps the strangest and least accommodating film of the set is Restoration of The Night Watch, which painstakingly documents the 1976 restoration of one of Rembrandt’s most famous masterpieces. Rembrandt painted “The Night Watch” in 1642, apparently for a commission by a captain and 17 members of his civic militia guard. The title is actually a misnomer. First, the civic guard at this time was not likely to go on patrol; it was more of a social club. Second, the scene is not set at night. Rather it was the heavy application of varnish that made the painting appear to be a nocturne to the viewers of the 18th century who gave it the name by which it is still recognized. When the painting was restored, the vibrancy of the central beam of light disabused viewers of this misconception; it is quite clear that the group is emerging into the light of day.
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