The Picture: The Virgin, richly garbed, her bejeweled crown and blue halo designating her as Queen of Heaven, gazes affectionately at her lively infant child seated on her lap, his left hand grasping his foot, his right hand tight around his mother’s thumb. She is seated on a rectangular throne supported on arches over which is draped a red cloth of honor patterned in gold that is attached behind her to an elaborate, multistoried construction viewed in foreshortening. The rounded recess behind her contains a striking, pink-lavender niche that gives further prominence to the Virgin. Unusually, the Virgin’s halo is painted in rings of shades of blue rather than gilded. Although other examples are known of colored haloes in Bohemian art, the rings of blue inevitably suggest the celestial spheres familiar from medieval illustrations of ancient cosmographic texts as well as of Dante’s Divine Comedy (see, for example, in The Met’s collection, Giovanni di Paolo’s
Creation 1975.1.31) This type of cosmographic map appears in a number of Venetian paintings, most significantly as a locating feature for the Coronation of the Virgin, as in an altarpiece by Paolo Veneziano in the Gallerie dell’Accademia in Venice. In The Met’s picture, the Virgin’s throne—the symbolic Solomonic Throne of Wisdom—is set within the Porch of Judgment, “where he [Solomon] might judge,” as described in I Kings 7:7; 10:18–20, and II Chronicles 9: 17–19. At the time of acquisition, in November 2019, the architectural background was entirely painted over to obtain a uniform, dark blue background (probably Prussian blue of the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century) decorated with crudely pasted-on stars (see. fig. 1 above). X-ray imaging (see Klípa 2019) revealed the complexity of the architectural features, incorporating two projecting wings with loggias and balconies, the whole edifice surmounted by an arcade. However, the x-radiograph gave no sense either of the spatial impact or the colors, which cleaning in 2020 has revealed to be of exceptional richness. The projecting, double-story lateral wings of the structure have been conceived with a view to iconographic contrast. On the dexter side of the Virgin a ground floor porch supported on thin piers with a round arch is surmounted by a balcony or loggia. On the sinister side a squared arch on piers is surmounted by a rectangular grilled opening. The contrast between the two projecting wings is both emphatic and intentional and suggests as a possible iconography the separation of the righteous and the ungodly at the day of judgement. The recesses of this construction are inset with variegated marble. The shallow, pinkish-lavender niche within this recess picks up the pink of the Virgin’s throne and is repeated beyond the openings of the pale green arcade that crowns the entire structure, the top of which has unfortunately been trimmed, adding to the exceptional palette. As one would expect in a work of this date, the foreshortened features of this elaborate, multi-storied construction recede in an inconsistent and approximate way, but the spatial effect is very pronounced, with the receding lines of the edges of the throne and those of the lower story of the building giving visual emphasis to the Virgin’s womb.
Of exquisite facture, the picture combines the elegance as well as demonstrative humanity of French ivory carvings of the Virgin and Child with the spatial innovation of early-fourteenth-century painting in Italy. Its reverse is painted to simulate Bohemian green jasper. Unquestionably a deluxe work, it must have been destined for the private devotion of a prominent person associated with the courts of John of Luxembourg, “the Blind” (1296–1346) and his son Charles IV (1316–1378), King of Bohemia and, from 1355, Holy Roman Emperor. As rare as it is exquisite, it was unknown prior to its discovery in 2018 in the private collection of a family in Dole, France, and although its early history is unknown, it takes its place among the foundational pictures of the opening chapter of the great age of Bohemian painting in Prague. Indeed, in the confluence of French and Italian art it not only exemplifies Charles IV’s politics of culture that transformed Prague into a truly European capital, but it joins a handful of pictures that mark a key chapter in the history of Bohemian Gothic painting and the basis for a style that has (albeit problematically) come to be known as International Gothic.
The Attribution: Following its discovery, the picture was ascribed by Jan Klípa (2019) to the Master of Vyšší Brod or his circle, which is to say the artist responsible for a series of nine panels commissioned by Petr Rožmberk (Peter of Rosenberg; died 1347), who had served as valet at the court of Charles’s father, John of Luxembourg, and was subsequently Charles’s high chamberlain (fig. 2). This series is often but not universally considered the keystone of Bohemian painting in its early phase. Although The Met’s picture shares certain stylistic features with one or another of the panels from that series—in particular with the scene of the Adoration of the Magi, in which there are similarities with the morphology of the faces of the Virgin and the Christ Child as well as the child’s active pose and the profile of his upturned head—there are also significant differences. To begin with, The Met’s picture is incomparably more sophisticated in composition and treatment of space and reveals a delicacy in the execution that further sets it apart. There is an enhanced understanding of anatomy and the creation of an effect of physical presence, perhaps best evidenced in the drapery over the Virgin’s lap, which is articulated with an almost sculptural sense of volume together with an elegance in the rhythmic cadences of the hemline comparable to the finest French ivories and illuminations or, indeed, the work of Simone Martini that Charles and various members of his court would have seen during their multiple trips to Avignon. Moreover, the architecture that frames the figures differs decisively from what is found in the various panels of the
Vyšší Brod Altarpiece in its spatial coherence and the fundamentally Giottesque character of the buildings. Rather, the spatial coherence aligns the picture with several other early Bohemian paintings: the
Dormition of the Virgin in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (fig. 4) and the marvelous painting of the Virgin and Child Enthroned (the so-called
Klodtzko Madonna or
Glatz Madonna) in the Gemäldegalerie, Berlin (fig. 3). As Klípa has noted, there are similarities in the layout of the architecture with Paolo Veneziano’s scene of Saint Mark imprisoned, from his cover for the Pala d’Oro (the pala feriale), finished in 1345 (fig. 9). However, perhaps even closer analogies can be found in the work of the Tuscan Master of Saint Cecilia (fig. 11). These analogies underscore the fundamentally Giottesque moment reflected in The Met’s panel and suggest the possibility that the artist may have accompanied Charles on one of his trips to Italy or have been sent there to study Italian art. Additionally, there are some analogies of style with a painting of the Crucifixion (the so-called
Kaufmann Crucifixion) in the Gemäldegalerie, Berlin; fig. 5). As with the figures in that work, so in The Met’s panel there is sophistication, elegance, and a more profound understanding of Italian and French models than is true of even the finest panels of the
Vyšší Brod Altarpiece.
Beyond these comparisons, The Met’s picture seems to reveal a response to contemporary French illuminations, and in particular to those artists and works inspired by the great illuminator Jean Pucelle, as seen in the
Hours of Jeanne d’Evreux in The Metropolitan Museum, dating from 1324–28 (
54.1.2). Pucelle’s miniatures transmitted to French painting a direct knowledge of Sienese art. In a more general way, the faces and gestures of the figures in The Met’s panel, like those in the
Kaufmann Crucifixion, can be seen to reflect the refined ideals of beauty prevalent in Parisian painting of the fourteenth century.
What seems abundantly clear is that The Met’s panel is the work of an artist of enormous talent and originality. The stylistic choices evident in it almost certainly reflect the cultural interests of the person for whom it was painted as well as those of the artist. It may be that one or more of the artists of the pictures discussed above were in some capacity involved in the workshop that produced the
Vyšší Brod Altarpiece, but what must be underscored is that the differences among these remarkable paintings—and they are considerable—reflect individual responses to the diverse and rich international culture of Charles’s court, to which The Met’s panel adds a fundamentally new contribution.
Keith Christiansen 2020
For more information about the conservation of this work, see Michael Gallagher's posts of
September 11, 2020,
October 21, 2020, and
March 9, 2021 on Instagram @metpaintingsconservation.