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The Hidden Life of Art
The Hidden Life of Art
The Hidden Life of Art
HIDDEN
E OF ART
LIF
bols
Secrets and Syrm
pieces
in G reat Maste
N
CLARE GIBSO
184 Allegorical Figures & Symbols
A lthough it was painted in London, England, neither the sitter nor the artist were English, and, indeed, they probably
conversed in Middle Low German while The Merchant Georg Gisze was taking shape. It was important to both men
that it had the “wow factor,” Gisze wanting to impress his fiancée back home, as well as his business associates, with a por-
trait in which he appeared both authoritative and prosperous, and the German-born Holbein, who had recently arrived in
England from Basle, in Switzerland, in search of work, hoping that it would trigger a flood of lucrative commissions.The
portrait must have fulfilled all expectations, for it is recorded that Gisze was married three years later in his Baltic home-
town, and that Holbein was employed by King Henry VIII of England in 1536. The Merchant Georg Gisze is a rewarding
picture for the twenty-first-century viewer to study, too, partly because its photographic quality is as impressive today as it
was in 1532, partly because the everyday objects that surround him make the long-dead Gisze (1497–1562) seem more of
a real person, and partly because it gives us an extraordinary insight into how offices looked nearly six hundred years ago.
As a merchant from Danzig—today known as Gdansk—a town that belonged to the Hanseatic League (a powerful,
northern European trade confederation), Gisze’s business was international, and by 1532, it had taken him to London,
where he lived and worked tax-free with other German merchants in the Thames-side Steelyard complex. Being based in
London for a few years must have been good for trade, but can’t have been a particularly comfortable existence, not least
because only bachelors were permitted to reside at the Steelyard.This explains the presence of the Venetian-glass vase filled
with flowers—an otherwise rather incongruous touch in a trader’s office—for according to the conventions of the time,
carnations denoted engagement, leading one to surmise that Gisze had his likeness painted as a gift for his bride-to-be,
and that Holbein included the flowers as a tribute to her.
Arrayed on the expensive a sand-shaker with which to sealing wax, it may be that
Oriental carpet that serves as dry wet ink and a pile of loose Gisze handed them to his
a tablecloth are a brass timepiece, change (or wax disks) in a pewter representatives to use, or that
which suggests both that time stand; and a pair of scissors. he himself acted as the agent for
passes quickly and that its owner, One of Gisze’s numerous signet many different concerns, whose
like it, is well-regulated, or rings also lies on the table: used seals he was therefore entrusted
disciplined; a signet; writing to imprint a symbol of personal with as a sign that authority had
implements, sticks of sealing wax, or corporate identity on molten been delegated to him.
Allegorical Figures & Symbols 187
T he question mark that casts doubt upon the identity of the man portrayed in the painting perhaps provisionally entitled
Portrait of Giovanni Arnolfini and his Wife (“The Arnolfini Portrait”) is by no means the only query that art historians have
raised in relation to this image. Indeed, the more one delves into the theories that it has generated, the more of an enigma it
becomes, so that in the end, the only certainty is that this Early Netherlandish masterpiece was painted by Jan van Eyck, who
positioned his brush above the round mirror and signed his work with a flourish. Or did he? For rather than following artis-
tic convention and using the conventional Latin wording Johannes de Eyck fecit, or “Jan van Eyck made this,” the artist instead
wrote Johannes de Eyck fuit hic, 1434, or “Jan van Eyck was here, 1434,” which does not necessarily mean the same thing.
Although it was thought to depict a mar-
ried or betrothed couple, little was known
about this painting until a sixteenth-century
inventory, written in French, was discovered
that appeared to refer to it as “A big panel
painting, Hernoult le Fin with his wife in a
room.” Van Eyck was working in Bruges,
one of the most important ports in the
duchy of Burgundy (and, indeed, the
world), in 1434. Searches of the city archives
revealed two potential candidates for the
fur-draped man: the brothers Arnolfini (the
Italian equivalent of the French “Hernoult
le Fin”), namely Giovanni di Arrigo, or di
Nicolao, and Michele, scions of a wealthy
merchant and banking family from Lucca,
Italy, who had taken up residence in Bruges
to conduct business with Philip the Good,
Duke of Burgundy (who was also van
Eyck’s patron). The records reveal that
Giovanni married Giovanna Cenami, the
daughter of another Italian financier, and the
wealth inherent in such a union, along with
the evident prosperity of the bedchamber
depicted in such intricate detail by van
Eyck, has led scholars to claim that the
painting commemorates their wedding.
Others, however, insist that it is simply a
double portrait of a well-to-do husband and
wife.The debate will no doubt continue, but
for the moment it seems safe to say that the
symbolic messages contained in this image
allude to the ideal Christian marriage.
T he English artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti paid homage to two of his great loves in his painting La Pia: the work of
the poet Dante Alighieri (1265–1321), from whom he derived his first name and whose Italian heritage he shared;
and Janey Morris (née Burden), the wife of his Pre-Raphaelite “brother,”William Morris.
Dante Alighieri immortalized the character of La Pia (Italian for “the pious woman”) in Part II, Purgatorio (“Purgatory”),
of his epic poem Divina Commedia (“Divine Comedy”), of 1321. In the fifth canto (lines 130–6), Dante relates that when
he encountered the soul of La Pia in purgatory (for she had died without absolution), she implored him to “Remember
me who am La Pia, me from Siena sprung and by Maremma dead. This in his innermost heart well knoweth he, with
whose fair jewel I was ringed and wed.” Dante’s Italian contemporaries would have been familiar with the true story of
La Pia, of the family of Tolomei, a noblewoman from Siena whose husband, Nello della Pietra dei Pannocchieschi, was
responsible for her death in 1295, some say due to his jealousy on account of her adultery, and others, so that he would
be free to marry the Countess Margherita degli Aldobrandeschi. Although there is also some disagreement as to the exact
manner of La Pia’s death––one version of the tragic tale telling us that illness killed her, another asserting that she was
thrown from a window to her death––it is agreed that she met her untimely end in the unhealthy, marshy region of the
Sienese Maremma, in Tuscany, and specifically at the Castello della Pietra, or Pietra Castle, where her husband had impris-
oned her. In portraying the unhappy, rejected La Pia with the features of Janey Morris, Rossetti may have been hinting
that he was longing to act as Janey’s knight in shining armor in liberating her from a marriage that,
he felt, had become her prison, and from a husband who had become her jailor.