Biography of the Artist: Giorgio Faggin (1986) first identified what he believed to be the “monogram” LC of the artist in the “Pseudo-Gassel” group at the lower right on a tree trunk in The Calling of Saint Matthew (Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels; see fig. 1 above). Since then, the painter has sometimes been called the Master LC. However, close scrutiny of the “monogram” reveals that instead of letters, these markings are more likely to be the hooks for the painting hanging on the tree trunk. Noting the close relationship between the Brussels painting and The Met’s Arrival in Bethlehem, Walter Gibson (1989) dubbed the artist the Master of the Brussels-New York Panels. Subsequently, Luc Serck (1990, 2000) assembled a dozen paintings by the same hand that he attributed to the Master of the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew, an artist he recognized as having been influenced by Herri met de Bles and Lucas Gassel. Going forward, this appellation is the most appropriate for the artist of The Met painting.

In the background of the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew is a view of Antwerp as it appeared from the left bank of the river Scheldt. Identifiable among the buildings are the Burchtkerk, the church of Notre-Dame, and Saint-Michel. This indicates that the painter most likely worked in Antwerp, where Lucas Gassel also is thought to have had a studio before moving to Brussels where he died in 1568/69.[1] Further study of the paintings attributed to the Master of the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew group will help to clarify the development of the artist’s style and contribution to landscape painting in the southern Netherlands around 1540–50.

The Painting: Unfolding as a continuous narrative throughout the vast landscape of this painting is the biblical story of the birth of Christ, based on the Gospel of Luke 2:1–14. At the lower left Joseph and the Virgin Mary, accompanied by an ox and an ass, travel from Nazareth toward Bethlehem, the eventual birth site of Christ. Their voyage was required to satisfy an imperial command that all citizens return to their ancestral towns to be taxed. As Joseph belonged to the house and lineage of David, he went to Bethlehem to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was pregnant. The old man seated with his dog on the wall of the bridge serves as a narrator. He holds an open book from which he relates the story, as if in a dramatic presentation (Koopstra 2020, p. 155 n.10). Over the bridge and a little farther on the winding road, Joseph and Mary reach the door of a fully booked inn where they are refused a night’s lodging. At the far right, the couple gesture in prayer before the Christ Child who has just been born in a makeshift manger. In the field above and to the right, the underdrawing shows the Annunciation to the Shepherds by an angel, but this has been painted over to represent sheep grazing. Finally, toward the center of the painting to the right, a pinkish tent partly conceals an underdrawing most likely of the Adoration of the Magi.

This landscape represents a bird’s-eye view that was still in vogue decades after Joachim Patinir developed it in his first landscape paintings made in Antwerp after he entered the Guild of Saint Luke in 1515 (see The Penitence of Saint Jerome triptych, 36.14a–c). However, here the painter has somewhat lowered the high horizon line and considerably diminished the scale of the figures, sprinkling them throughout the countryside rather than, as Patinir did, placing the main protagonists at the forefront of the composition.

Perhaps the most striking feature of this painting is that it is unfinished. The completed or nearly completed portions are the mid-left wooded area, the bridge over the river, the castle at the center, the path at the right where white linens are spread out to dry on the grass, and the distant forests that border vast plains in a greenish-blue tone. Here and there, and unrelated to the biblical narrative, incidental figures pepper the landscape (e.g., the hunter and his companion heading through the gate at the lower left, the man and woman on the castle bridge, and figures along the winding route at the right). Half-tones show the initial stages of painting in the sky, the central craggy mountains, and in the village below at the right. However, significant portions of the composition remain at the underdrawn stage, either unpainted or clearly visible through the thinly painted and now more transparent features of the work.

The Attribution and Date: Although acquired in 1916 as a work by Joachim Patinir, doubts soon arose and an attribution to the Antwerp landscape painter Cornelis Massys (1510-1562) ensued (Schmidt 1910, Frankfurter 1931, Burroughs 1934, Weale and Salinger 1947), with some suggesting a contemporary or follower of Massys (Friedländer 1936 and 1975, Dunbar 1972). Brockwell (1956) recognized the relationship to the works of Lucas Gassel (ca. 1488–1568/69), which was supported by others (Puyvelde 1962, Faggin 1968, Bergmans 1969, Dunbar 1981, and Koopstra 2020). Gibson (1989), Serck (1990), Ainsworth (1998) and Koopstra (2020) identified the close stylistic relationship of the Arrival in Bethlehem with the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew, and a small group of panels began to coalesce around the painter who was variously called the Master of the Brussels-New York Panels, the Master of the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew, and the Master LC.

The Arrival in Bethlehem belongs to a group of paintings most closely connected with the landscape painter, Lucas Gassel who originated in the North Netherlands, in Helmond, but worked mostly in the southern Netherlands probably in Antwerp and in Brussels (see Koopstra 2020). Gassel’s Rest on the Flight into Egypt, signed and dated 1542 (Bonnefantenmuseum, Maastricht, fig. 2) shows the compositional conventions, individual landscape motifs, and subtle matte tones assimilated by the painter of The Met’s panel. However, Gassel is linked more closely with the works of Joachim Patinir in featuring the figures in the foreground, with the landscape serving as extended backdrop scenery. The Met painting, on the other hand, more fully integrates the figures into the landscape, convincingly adjusting their scale throughout in order to facilitate the viewer’s virtual wandering into the far distance. Nonetheless, the Arrival in Bethlehem mimics Gassel’s work by adopting the high horizon line, the use of winding pathways to facilitate progression into the background, and the addition of incidental figures of various types that add a glimpse of daily life and enhance the direction of these landscape paintings toward secular genre works and away from strictly religious scenes.

Like Lucas Gassel, the painter of the The Met’s panel applied his paint layers rather thinly in semitransparent tones, with the pale ochre of the foreground pathways giving way to the blue-green of the hills in the distance. Gassel’s Flight into Egypt perhaps gives an idea of how the Arrival in Bethlehem would have looked when completed, with the overlying paint layers easing the transitions from one color area to the next. In both works, a rather limited palette of orange-reds, blues, and browns are used for the figures, and restricted hues of pale ochre and blue-green for the landscape. Characteristic of The Met painting is the artist’s distinctive striated, crisscrossing cloud formations, skyscraper-like craggy mountains, and exotic trees here and there that are also found in the “name painting”—the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew (fig. 1).

Both Gassel and the painter of The Met landscape are highly adept at coordinating with a great sense of balance a variety of individually studied motifs. A group of tiny sketches in Berlin attributed to Lucas Gassel show details worked up in pen and brown ink with wash that offer a selection of motifs to be included in any number of landscape scenes: needlelike mountain peaks, castles and villages nestled into hills, forests alternating with stretches of grassy plains, houses seen from different angles, and small figures serving as scale-markers throughout the scenes, just as birds populate the sky, adding a suggestion of atmosphere (Koopstra 2020, pp. 172–74, no 47). Such source material served both artists with endless options for variety and interest when the motifs were composed in a natural way. The successful manner by which Pseudo-Gassel arranged such motifs can be seen in the underdrawing of The Met painting, which is so fully worked up that it appears like an independent drawing (fig. 3). A close comparison of the underdrawing with the painted surface—unfinished as it is—indicates the suppression of some of the elements of the biblical narrative in favor of a more secular approach to landscape painting. For example, above and to the right first planned was the Annunciation to the Shepherds (fig. 4), which was overpainted with green pastures populated by numerous sheep. What appears in the preliminary sketch most likely as an Adoration of the Magi (at the center right, fig. 5) is painted over with a simple pinkish-red tent. Other details in the underdrawing, such as the boaters before the castle in the foreground, or the cattle in the meadow at the lower left were not ultimately painted. The incidental figures added throughout the landscape were not underdrawn but only painted. Without a full study of all the paintings attributed to the Brussels Master of the Calling of Saint Matthew, it is unclear whether one artist made decisions about motifs to include and not to include during the painting process, or whether the initial artist left the painting unfinished only to be picked up again by a second artist who edited out some of the religious episodes in favor of additional genre motifs. Either way, scrutiny of the painting both at the underdrawing stage and the unfinished painted stage indicates alterations to the original plan in the direction of diminished biblical narrative content and increased secular genre details. This example, then, datable to about 1540–50 shows incremental steps toward pure landscape painting that would become an independent genre in the seventeenth century.[2]

Maryan W. Ainsworth 2022

[1] For the most recent discussion of the oeuvre of Lucas Gassel with complete bibliography, see Koopstra 2020.
[2] This dating accords well with the dendrochronology results. "The analyzed panel is made of three oak boards originating from the Baltic/Polish region. The youngest heartwood ring was formed in the year 1523. Regarding the sapwood statistic of Eastern Europe an earliest felling date can be derived for the year 1532, more plausible is a felling date between 1536...1538….1542 + x. With a minimum of 2 years for seasoning the earliest creation of the painting is possible from 1534 upwards. Under the assumption of a median of 15 sapwood rings and a minimum of 2 years for seasoning a creation is plausible from 1540 upwards." Peter Klein report of May 13, 1997 (European Paintings Department files and Paintings Conservation files).

Support: The support was constructed from three planks of oak, with the grain oriented horizontally. Dendrochronological analysis indicated an earliest possible creation date of 1534 with a more plausible date of 1540 onwards.[1] The wood originated in the Baltic/Polish region.

The original dimensions of the panel appear to be nearly preserved. The left and right edges, and possibly the bottom edge, could be slightly trimmed, but the top edge seems to be intact. There are no traces of a barbe or unpainted margins along any edge and at the top the paint extends up to the extreme edge indicating that the panel was seemingly prepared and painted without a frame. The panel measures about 6mm thick on average and was likely planed down somewhat in preparation for the cradle. There are two triangular wooden inserts at the top corners, which were adhered before the panel was cradled, probably to compensate for damage to the original panel. The insert at the top left measures 2.2 x 48.5cm and the insert at the top right measures 1 x 7cm.

Preparation: The panel was prepared with a whitish ground, likely containing chalk. There appears to be an additional white priming layer on top of the ground. The presence of an extensive underdrawing is apparent even in normal light but is made more visible with infrared reflectography.[2] The artist used the underdrawing, executed in a dry medium, to plan most all of the elements of his composition down to tiny details like individual sheep, signposts, and the multitude of tiny trees in the far distance. The handling of the drawing varies from the neat rendering of architecture in the town and the castle, to the expressive and free drawings of tiny figures in motion, to the quite rough and sketchy lines that describe pathways and bridges. The artist also incorporated a great deal of hatching into his underdrawing, which also varies in neatness from relatively orderly, parallel hatchmarks in some buildings to very rough, occasionally zigzagging lines in parts of the landscape.

The artist must not have intended the underdrawing to remain visible in his finished composition. There are many changes between underdrawing and painting including some corrections to rough, sketchy contours and several wholesale alterations, for example, the changes to the man on the bridge at center and the entrance to the town at right. In addition, several small figure groups were not rendered in paint, although the unfinished nature of the composition makes it difficult to determine if the artist did intend to incorporate these underdrawn features ultimately. These underdrawn groups include the Annunciation to the Shepherds at top right, the Adoration of the Magi and several other figures and animals in the center of the town, the cattle in the forest at lower left, and the boaters in front of the castle. Many of these changes are apparent in normal light, because of the increased transparency of the aged paint as well as the unfinished state of the painting.

Paint Layers: Assessing the finish of this painting is complicated, due in part to this particular artist’s technical choices, but above all to the impossibility of predicting with certainty the level of polish and resolution to which an artist may have chosen to take a painting. Differentiating finished passages from the less resolved parts through technical examination sheds light on the evolution of the painting, its current appearance, and our understanding of the artist’s technique. At the same time, it is important to understand the impact of condition.

The Master of the Brussels Calling of Saint Matthew is generally understood to have applied his paint quite thinly, making it difficult to distinguish unfinished passages from those that were simply thinly painted (see Catalogue Entry). However, the named painting in Brussels and the Rest on the Flight into Egypt by Lucas Gassel, which follows similar compositional conventions and seemingly technique, both illustrate how a finished painting by the artist of the Met painting may have appeared (see figs. 1 and 2 above). The Rest on the Flight is a particularly useful comparison, incorporating many similar features as well as the pale blue-green far distance that contrasts with the rich deep greens of the middle and foreground. But some elements of The Met’s Arrival in Bethlehem are clearly less resolved, and others are simply puzzling.

It is helpful to first identify those passages of the Arrival in Bethlehem that can be considered finished, or very nearly so, with some certainty. The largest area is the forested area at left, richly colored with deep green glazes and including tiny details that would typically be applied in a final step: highlights on individual leaves in the trees, blades of grass, tiny sheep grazing, and even the bones of an animal carcass (fig. 6) By contrast, the figures of Mary and Joseph leading their animals at the lower left are not as rich in color as the landscape behind (fig. 7). The figures have clearly suffered some abrasion, but their muted appearance is not entirely due to condition. Looking at the paint buildup and instances of seemingly final painted elements is useful. In the animals, precise details are present in the harness and bridle, as well as the highlights on the horns and the eyes, but such features are not present in the clothing, for example, there are no traces of any painted details at the underdrawn closures of Joseph’s costume or the folds of Mary’s billowing robe. It is unlikely that all traces of such details—likely to have been painted in pigment mixtures containing lead white, and therefore more resilient to abrasion—would be entirely removed by cleaning damage, rather, the figures were not entirely completed.

By applying a similar rubric across the painting, it is possible to identify only a few other passages where the painting seems to have been brought to a level of finish, or near finish. These are mainly areas of foliage—other trees and swathes of grass that were built up with deep green glazes and embellished with final details—and a few figure groupings including, for example, the man and woman at lower center and the figures around the bleaching field.

Another area that could be nearly finished is the far distant landscape. Painted in pale blues and greens, as would be appropriate for an artist creating atmospheric perspective and comparable to the palette and technique found in paintings attributed to Lucas Gassel (see Catalogue Entry), these distant scenes also appear to be peppered with final details, such as individual highlights on trees and tiny sheep grazing (fig. 8). Complicating the assessment of finish are those points where paler passages border the darker green foliage in the middle distance: there is not a smooth transition between far and middle distance. In the left part of the composition the artist apparently began to apply deeper glazes over top of the pale blue-green passages, but abandoned his work without fully accomplishing the transitions. (The disconnect between these two areas is more extreme now due to the partial discoloration of the dark green glazes to brown.) Most telling is the tree at the top of the hillock at left, half painted over with a darker green glaze, abandoned midway (fig. 9). Surely a finished landscape would have required a more subtle shift from middle to far distance by additional deep green glazes to ease the eye backwards to the palest blues and greens.

These nearly complete passages can be contrasted with areas that were left in a half-painted state. In the town that occupies the middle of the painting the tiny figures of Mary and Joseph approach an inn, and the figures themselves and much of the buildings are partly colored with thin, muted paint, mainly pale pink and yellow (fig. 10). For the ground of the town, only a few broad strokes of white and a snaking rivulet of blue are present over the off-white preparatory layer. It is important to note that the muted appearance of the paint is not due to overcleaning or damage; while the paint is slightly rubbed it is generally quite intact but was simply painted thinly and in less saturated colors. Perhaps most appropriately termed “half-tones” in contrast to the rich and deeply saturated greens of the landscape and colors of some of the figures, this town has not been brought to the same level of finish. Yet, the half-tones reveal the artist’s working method: he went to some trouble to color in his underdrawing and even add some tiny painted details, all—or most of which—would surely have needed to be entirely gone over a second time in more robust paint. For example, jutting out from the inn is a sign with a tiny swan rendered in paint while some fine details and highlights were added to the clock and other elements on the inn’s facade (fig. 11). Was this two-step painting process part of the artist’s typical procedure? Or was the initial painting in half-tones done for a different reason; perhaps the very detailed underdrawn composition was accentuated with some color and details to show a client, or to guide assistants?

An additional puzzling element are the many instances where details that would usually be considered to be final additions to a painting are present over top of passages that are apparently, or even clearly, not yet completed. Directly to the right of the scene at the inn is a large tree, perhaps a palm, that is fully and robustly painted up with individual fronds rendered over the half-painted ground behind it. It is more typical practice to paint from the back to the front, rendering those features that are furthest in the distance first and then adding smaller details in the foreground as a later step, resulting in a more convincing recession in space and simplifying the painting process. Yet, there are several other instances where finished foliage or other small features were painted over unfinished background elements. Like the ground of the town, the body of water does not appear to be fully painted; there are some pale blue and greyish-brown tones present, but the lack of paint over the hatched passages to the right of the old man on the bridge indicates its unfinished state. Nonetheless, many tiny details overlap the half-painted water including swans and individual leaves. Why add final details over incomplete passages? Are these assumptions about typical working procedures are simply wrong in this case? Or is it possible that at a certain point the artist decided that the painting was never going to be finished and so either he, or workshop assistants, added some details for reasons unknown?

A final consideration in the technical examination of this painting is the possibility of multiple hands at work, and perhaps at different points in time. One possible instance is the landscape, where the fully finished, deeply saturated forested scenes at middle left were brought over the top of the pale greenish-blue landscape of the far distance: was this done at the same moment? Technical comparison suggests the same hand or a very similar hand at work. The handling of the small details on the trees are quite similar, as is the working of the paint, with occasional wet-in-wet strokes to add texture and volume. Though the darker green glazes overlie the paler blue-green landscape in areas, this layering appears to be part of the artist’s approach, and as hypothesized above, simply lacks the final touches that would enact smooth transitions between middle and far distance.

As detailed earlier, there are some discrepancies between underdrawn and painted composition: were these alterations the work of the original artist or a later intervention? Firstly, the painting appears to omit several underdrawn scenes, yet the paint that cancels out these figure groupings is seemingly the same as that used for all the early stages of painting. And there are no indications that one artist initially followed these instances of underdrawing in the early stages of his painting and that a later hand painted them out. Secondly, there are some elements that were included in the painting but were not underdrawn, all secular figures and details not directly related to the religious narrative (see Catalogue Entry). These were painted on top of finished parts of the painting or partly finished passages, opening the possibility that they were added by a second hand. Technical comparison with those that were underdrawn, the figures of Mary and Joseph and the man on the bridge, is complicated by the lack of finish of the latter. However, there are some similar features, including black contour lines and nearly pure white daubs of highlighting in both, and no great disparities in technique that would clearly indicate a second hand at work, though it remains a possibility. On the other hand, it is important to acknowledge that the addition of small unplanned figures has been noted in other paintings by the artist (Ainsworth 1998, p. 122).

The painting has suffered some general overall abrasion. The abrasion is more pronounced in some passages, mainly those that were left unfinished and were more thinly painted, as detailed above, which were thus more vulnerable to abrasion. It is clear that the painting was regarded with some esteem, unfinished as it is, to have survived in such relatively good condition.

Sophie Scully 2023

[1] Wood identification and dendrochronological analysis completed by Dr. Peter Klein, Universität Hamburg, report dated May 13, 1997. The report can be found in the files of the Department of Paintings Conservation. “The youngest heartwood ring was formed out in the year 1523. Regarding the sapwood statistic of Eastern Europe an earliest felling date can be derived for the year 1532, more plausible is a felling date between 1536..1538….1542 +x. With a minimum of 2 years for seasoning an earliest creation of the painting is possible from 1534 upwards. Under the assumption of a median of 15 sapwood rings and 2 years for seasoning, a creation is plausible from 1540 upwards.”
[2] Infrared reflectography was acquired with an OSIRIS InGaAs near-infrared camera fitted with a 6-element, 150mm focal length f/5.6–f/45 lens; 900-1700nm spectral response, Evan Read, September 2019.

Count Arsenio Arkadewitch Golénistcheff-Koutousoff, Saint Petersburg (bought in Vienna as a work of Abraham Hassler); Nicholas Riabouchinsky, Moscow (sale, American Art Association, Plaza Hotel, New York, April 26, 1916, no. 29, as by Patinir, to The Met)

St. Petersburg. Imperial Society for the Encouragement of the Arts. "Paintings from Russian Palaces and Private Collections, 1908–1909," 1908–9, no. 402 (as "The Philosopher," by Patinir, lent by Count A. Golenistcheff-Koutousoff).

New York. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. "Landscape Paintings," May 14–September 30, 1934, no. 15 (as by Cornelis Massys).

Pittsfield, Mass. Berkshire Museum. "Landscape Painting from the Sixteenth to the Twentieth Century," June 25–July 20, 1937, no. 2 (as by Cornelis Massys).

Indianapolis. John Herron Art Museum. "Holbein and His Contemporaries," October 22–December 24, 1950, no. 49 (as by Cornelis Massys).

Cambridge, Mass. Fogg Art Museum. "Landscape: Massys to Corot," May 6–June 3, 1955, no. 19 (as by Cornelis Massys).

New York. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. "From Van Eyck to Bruegel: Early Netherlandish Painting in The Metropolitan Museum of Art," September 22, 1998–February 21, 1999, no. 71.

Museum Helmond. "Lucas Gassel van Helmond: Meester van het landschap," June 1–August 30, 2020, no. 39 (as by Master LC).

LOAN OF THIS WORK IS RESTRICTED.

James Schmidt in Les anciennes écoles de peinture dans les palais et collections privées russes, représentées à l'exposition organisée à St.-Pétersbourg en 1909 par la revue d'art ancien "Staryé gody". Exh. cat.Brussels, 1910, pp. 59–61, no. 402, identifies the subject of our panel as Landscape with the Nativity; rejects the attribution to Patinir [see Exhs. Saint Petersburg 1908–1909]; ascribes it to Cornelis Massys based on some similarities to his painting of Saint Jerome [Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp]; notes that the current owner, Count Golénitscheff-Koutousoff, bought it in Vienna as the work of Abraham Hassler.

B[rysson]. B[urroughs]. "An Imaginary Landscape." Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 11 (June 1916), pp. 129–30, considers it unlikely to be by Patinir as it is dissimilar to his four indisputably authentic works.

Eliot Clark. "On a Picture by Patinir." Art in America 7 (1919), pp. 44–45, 47–48, ill., discusses the technique.

Marrion Wilcox. "Joachim Patinir." Art & Life 11 (March 1920), pp. 470, 472, ill., lists it with pictures less confidently attributed to Patinir.

Alfred M. Frankfurter. "Masterpieces of Landscape Painting in American Collections." Fine Arts 18 (December 1931), pp. 22, 27, ill., as by Cornelis Massys.

Bryson Burroughs. Landscape Paintings. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1934, pp. 5, 15, no. 15, ill., as an unfinished painting by Cornelis Massys.

Max J. Friedländer. Die altniederländische Malerei. Vol. 13, Anthonis Mor und seine Zeitgenossen. Leiden, 1936, p. 35, mentions is as a work by an eccentric follower of Cornelis Massys, along with two other paintings in the Plandiura collection at Barcelona (Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya) and in a private collection in Dresden.

Harry B. Wehle and Margaretta Salinger. The Metropolitan Museum of Art: A Catalogue of Early Flemish, Dutch and German Paintings. New York, 1947, pp. 118–19, ill., as by Cornelis Massys; observe that a Landscape with Saint Jerome (Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Anwterp, no. 830), dated 1543 and signed by Cornelis Massys, is very close in style, but "lacks the clumsy figures and certain curious tree forms"; mention a painting of the same subject by Cornelis (Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin) .

Julius S. Held. "Book Reviews: Harry B. Wehle and Margaretta M. Salinger . . ., 1947." Art Bulletin 31 (June 1949), p. 140.

Holbein and His Contemporaries. Exh. cat., John Herron Art Museum. Indianapolis, 1950, unpaginated, no. 49, ill.

Josephine L. Allen and Elizabeth E. Gardner. A Concise Catalogue of the European Paintings in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1954, p. 64.

Maurice W. Brockwell. "A Little Known Landscape Painter: Lucas Gassel's 'Baptism of Christ'." Connoisseur 138 (September 1956), p. 18, observes that this painting, once ascribed to Joachim Patinir and now assigned to Cornelis Massys, is distantly related in style to the works of Lucas Gassel.

Erik Larsen. Les primitifs flamands au Musée Metropolitain de New York. Utrecht, 1960, pp. 87, 129, fig. 31.

Leo van Puyvelde. La peinture flamand au siècle de Bosch et Breughel. Paris, 1962, p. 234, notes similarities to the paintings of Cornelis Masys, but finds the composition of the foreground like Lucas Gassel.

Giorgio T. Faggin. La pittura ad Anversa nel Cinquecento. Florence, 1968, p. 39 n. 18, rejects the attribution to Lucas Gassel and instead, ascribes it to a master he calls "Pseudo-Gassel", who painted Christ at the Sea of Tiberias in the Torres collection, Madrid, and the landscape with the Calling of Saint Matthew (Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels), which bears the monogram L.C.

Simone Bergmans. 22. Ausstellung, Herbst 1969. Exh. cat., Galerie Friederike Pallamar. Vol. 22, Vienna, 1969, p. 21, rejects the attribution to Cornelis Massys and considers it to be more likely the work of Lucas Gassel.

Burton L. Dunbar. "The Landscape Art of Cornelis Massys." PhD diss., University of Iowa, 1972, pp. 252–54, no. P27, fig. 54, as by a contemporary of Cornelis Massys (Lucas Gassel?).

Max J. Friedländer et al. Early Netherlandish Painting. Vol. 13, Antonis Mor and His Contemporaries. New York, 1975, p. 22.

Burton L. Dunbar. "The Landscape Paintings of Cornelis Massys." Bulletin des Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique 23–29 (1981), pp. 116–17, ill., ascribes this picture and several other compositions to Lucas Gassel; compares it with the Calling of Saint Matthew in Brussels [see Ref. Faggin 1968].

Maryan W. Ainsworth. Memo to Everett Fahy. January 25, 1988, recognizes the same hand in the Calling of Saint Matthew in Brussels, which is signed with the initials "L.C.".

Walter S. Gibson. "Mirror of the Earth": The World Landscape in Sixteenth-century Flemish Painting. Princeton, 1989, pp. 20–21, 96–97 nn. 31–32, 34, attributes it to the "Master of the Brussels-New York Panels," a follower of Lucas Gassel, and lists several related works which may be by the same hand.

Luc Serck. "Henri Bles & la peinture de paysage dans les pays-bas méridionaux avant Bruegel." PhD diss., Université Catholique de Louvain, 1990, vol. 6, pp. 1252–53, pl. C.1, ascribes it with eleven other pictures to the Master of the Brussels Calling of Saint Mattew (Monogrammist L.C.); characterizes the artist as an original landscape painter who was influenced by the graphic technique of Herri met de Bles and the matte tones of Lucas Gassel.

Maryan Ainsworth and J. J. Walker. "MOSART Software for Constructing Infrared Reflectograms." Le dessin sous-jacent dans la peinture. Ed. Hélène Verougstraete-Marcq and Roger van Schoute. Colloque 8, Louvain-la-Neuve, 1991, pp. 157–58, pl. 85 (infrared reflectogram), as by Herry met de Bles.

Katharine Baetjer. European Paintings in The Metropolitan Museum of Art by Artists Born Before 1865: A Summary Catalogue. New York, 1995, p. 272, ill.

Maryan W. Ainsworth. "A Meeting of Sacred and Secular Worlds." From Van Eyck to Bruegel: Early Netherlandish Painting in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Ed. Maryan W. Ainsworth and Keith Christiansen. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1998, pp. 208, 266, 268, 270–71, 326, no. 71, ill. (color), as "Attributed to Master LC," about 1540; notes that at a certain point the painting process was interrupted and somewhat later taken up again, probably by a second artist, who suppressed the religious narrative and sprinkled genre motifs throughout the composition.

Maryan W. Ainsworth. "An Unfinished Landscape Painting Attributed to the Master LC and Sixteenth-Century Workshop Practice." Herri Met de Bles: Studies and Explorations of the World Landscape Tradition. Ed. Norman E. Muller et al. Turnhout, Belgium, 1998, pp. 117–18, 121–27, nn. 1–2, 20–21, 24, p. 128, ill. (infrared reflectogram and black and white details), colorpl. 15, notes that the "graphic mannerisms and certain landcape features" of its underdrawing "are so close [to Gassel] that they appear to have originated in the same workshop"; finds the light brownish-orange of the foreground pathways and the pale lime green of the hills in the middle distance particularly characteristic of works attributed to Master LC, as is the placement of the essential features of the narrative in the foreground.

Luc Serck in Autour de Henri Blés. Ed. Jacques Toussaint. Exh. cat., Musée des Arts Anciens du Namurois. [Namur], 2000, pp. 272, 274, ill.

Anna Koopstra in Lucas Gassel van Helmond: Meester van het landschap. Exh. cat., Museum Helmond. Zwolle, 2020, pp. 153–55, no. 39, ill. (color), dates it about 1540–50 and attributes it to Master LC, one of the closest followers of Lucas Gassel.

The frame is from Lombardy and dates to about 1680 (see figs. 12–15 above). This reverse profile ebonized ripple molding frame is made of pine and applied pearwood and constructed with lap joined mitred corners. The sight edge quarter round and cavetto molding rise to an astragal, then fall back to a hollow. The separate outer frame is comprised of applied ripple cut pearwood veneer on a flat frieze flanked by strips of ripple cut molding. The surface has been painted black to resemble costly ebony. Intervals of mordant gilded bands decorate the high sight edge and rippled perimeter. Never resized but extensively insect damaged, the frame retains its original lively decorated surface.

Timothy Newbery with Cynthia Moyer 2016; further information on this frame can be found in the Department of European Paintings files

Loan of this work is restricted.