Albrecht Dürer’s Apocalypse

I’ve been looking closely at the work of Albrecht Dürer over the past couple weeks, particularly the woodcuts derived from the Book of Revelations. They’re really an astonishing group of prints. Dürer did them just after a trip to Italy where he’d seen Andrea Mantegna’s work and one can see the stylistic influence of Mantegna in the work. The  woodcut prints for the Cologne Bible, printed in 1478-79  and the engravings of Schongauer were also important influences. Dürer fused these separate influences into transcendent and revolutionary visions, the impact of which are still completely present in their intensity today.

The Opening of the Fifth and Sixth Seals:

Martin Schongauer’s Temptation of St. Anthony (There’s a copy of this that Michelangelo made as an oil painting–at least it’s been attributed to M) :

The Cologne Bible:

Andrea Mantegna’s stupendous engraving Bachanal with Silenius from the 1470s. I never fail to be inspired by Mantegna’s work. He’s one of my favorite Renaissance artists. What I love is the rhythmic movement through the figures combined with the odd contrasts set up between each of the separate figures. I love the comic touch where the obese figure being carried on the far left  also has to have one leg supported on that prop. And the figure bearing the load has his legs sinking into the water. It does so much to bring across the feeling of the actual crushing heaviness of the fellow’s burden.

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23 Responses to Albrecht Dürer’s Apocalypse

  1. trueoutsider says:

    What’s extraordinary about the Apocalypse woodcuts which followed very close after the Cologne Bible. The difference in artistic complexity, conception, and execution is what characterizes the move from the Middle Ages into the Renaissance. And it seemingly happens in a flash.

    It even strikes me as similar to what we see currently, where the enormous visionary ability coupled with technical brilliance and perfection, have deteriorated in such a few short decades. Artistic achievement is considered grand if it consists of good technical and mechanical execution, as in Photo-Realism. But there isn’t the least bit of vision. Just concept and tasteful choice of photographs. On the other hand if the artist has some kind of original vision, it’s generally puerile–folk art derived or comic book primitivism. Artists like Marcel Dzama, for example. Another category would be painters who are both primitive as well as just copy photographs and have no trouble having their work seen as masterful.

    Karen Kilimnik and Elizabeth Peyton, for example. This work is both banal in terms of any vision, and is painted with all the accomplishment of a second year undergraduate student from the 70s. This is the art bequeathed to us by Andy Warhol:

  2. trueoutsider says:

    Here is Durer’s naturalist study in watercolor, The Large Piece of Turf:

    And we have a painting by Lucian Freud, the great 20th century British realist as comparison:

    Then we have Durer painting, The Martyrdom of the Ten Thousand, 1508:

    And where on earth would I find a like comparison. The ability to copy, even in an intense way in the manner that Freud practices is present in contemporary painting–at least while Freud sill paints. But what has happened to the ability to entirely imagine a scene so vivid and magnificently complex as the Durer painting above?

    Complex figurative scenes are a function of Hollywood movie makers… of course, going back to directors like D.W. Griffiths. How long would it take a modern painter to painting something like The Martyrdom of the Ten Thousand, much less be able to imagine this panoramic kaleidoscope of events?

    Elizabeth Peyton, a Kilimnik doppelganger… vapid celebrity paintings:

    Why demand anything more of paintings? Critics fawning over work with no purpose other than to provide pizazz to the social scene. Peyton paints celebrities. The Warhol narcissism endlessly redundant.

    A critic writes in reference to another artist’s slapdash photo derived nothingness: “These have the delicate, knowing slightness of of Elizabeth Peyton’s portraiture.”

    The ephemeral and precarious are mentioned. This work certainly is ephemeral and precarious. The chance of it having any continued existence in any culture not completely brain dead is nonexistent.

    This painting is a harbinger of a return to the Middle Ages. No vitality, vision, disciplined work ethic, moral ethic or critical standards. Painting as a circle jerk with critics slopping empty prose all over whatever has big dollar signs attached to it. Transparently fraudulent. Awarding status of masterpieces to work that is entry level competent portraiture. No wonder people need “artist’s statements” to understand art in today’s world. The work itself is entirely free of any content whatsoever. Peyton, Tuymans, Kilminik make facile copies of photographs….with “delicate, knowing slightness.” Then the most extravagant prose is attached to it in order to disguise the barren quality of what is the actual painting itself.

    The operative fable is invariably “The Emperor’s New Clothes”.

  3. trueoutsider says:

    Here they are. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, one of the 16 woodcuts did for the Book of Revelations, and the most famous image. It’s cropped on the right but this way one can get a better look at the details:

    Before I forget… the Michelangelo from the Schongauer etching. It’s also useful to recognize how when artists of the past copied from prior sources, that they reimagined it, brought their own vision to integrate with what they were copying. It wasn’t the sterile exercises practiced at our current academies where painters grid a painting off and copy it detail for detail. If it was good enough for the Old Masters, why is it today’s “copyists” think the right approach is a slavish photo duplication of the original?

  4. trueoutsider says:

    What comes to mind when looking at the Durer woodcut, of course, is no work of contemporary fine art. Instead, I’m put in mind of the Zap comic artist, S. Clay Wilson. Whatever deficiencies Wilson might have in terms of structure and accomplished drawing skills are, to my eye, at least partially compensated by his full commitment to the vision itself. Wilson is inside the action and he’s creating his own world and characters from his mind–not from the “fantasy drawing bibles” that stock the shelves of bookstores.

    It’s also why comic artists like R. Crumb are now in full-fledged fine art galleries. Compared to the illustration art of Warhol’s disciples, Crumb and Wilson have an actual vision and narrative content with great visceral charge as well as uncensored imaginations.

    Wilson is hardly Dürer, nor is Crumb Bruegel. Nor would either claim to be. They don’t even claim to be fine artists. But their work is far more connected to the Old Master tradition that we see in most fine art galleries and museums.

    • Steve says:

      As a side note on Crumb, he has just finished a year’s long illustration of the Book Of Genesis, which he “…did as a straight illustration job….” . But it intrigues me because it feels a part of old world heritage, and not completely commercial art. A modern cartoonist has to help show the way through the contemporary art scene. A fact that I’m sure makes Crumb laugh.
      As for Durer’s Apocalypse , one could take any square centimeter of this jaw-dropping woodcut and it would make a great separate drawing. There are so many ‘nailed’ details in this work that it’s impossible for me to pick a favorite. And to think that it’s done by cutting a block of wood with a sharp tool ! Something like this takes time, and good lighting. Durer didn’t have tv or video games or netflix, and probably not a day job, so he had the time, but what about the lighting? And warmth? Germany’s a cold dang country most of the time. I also wonder if the actual wood block still exists?
      One of my favorite details is the reins-holding hand of the second rider from the front. The way Durer has drawn one finger slightly out-of-line with the others to show dexterity rather that just a grabbing fist. Did someone model for him, or did he look in the mirror at his own hand holding something? Or just dream it up?

      • trueoutsider says:

        Here’s a nice simple image from Crumb’s book of genesis that’s really strong:

        I read that Crumb went off in seclusion… so even Southern France isn’t secluded enough for him! He was in a cabin or something with no contact at all except for supply deliveries. That’s how it was done in the old days. Crumb’s entire body of work is pretty extraordinary, and it’s much like the Medieval monks. I saw some film footage and his head is right down on top of the drawing surface–like you imagined Burra –and I imagine Burra also. I recall a painting of Pascin, his head just as Crumb’s.

        Well, I’m poring over each square centimeter of the Durer’s and they’re a universe unto themselves. Nothing short of astonishing work. The engravings are out of this world. The woodcuts impossible to imagine made with such a simple woodblock and cutting implements.

        The lack of electronic stimulus is critical as far as I’m concerned. The greater its influence the more shallow the artwork. Thus Crumb’s Genesis drawn in seclusion. Art making at its best is a solitary activity of the deepest concentration. What you’re making is a real universe. That’s why I keep contrasting the flat poster like art of today with the immensely rich and imagined universes of yesteryear. They start to become less realized as first photography takes hold and then they’re knocked practically senseless by movies followed quick on by television.

        I think it no coincidence that I place the end of painting with the New York School, just as television enters every household. Now people have movie theaters in their living rooms and tvs in every single bedroom. They almost can’t get by without a video device to look at while they’re walking or driving a car.

        I can’t stand the things. I make this concession of writing and looking at images on the computer in the evening. But most of my hours are spent working by hand in the studio or at various locations working. I like to do as much work as possible viewing people.

        As to your last questions, there’s no way to be sure, but my guess would be that he just dreamed it up after having done careful early studies. I think in those days, the visual memories were completely different than ours. Even into the nineteenth century there are stories of training in the Academy where students were asked to look at the model on another floor and then walk down to the studio to draw from memory. I have a 19th century training manual that emphasizes memory drawing. That’s what’s almost entirely left out and has disappeared today.

        It’s also why the new ateliers are about the worst thing going, a certain way to wreck whatever connection a budding artist has with their own imaginations and individual psyches.

      • johnk823 says:

        Steve, What is interesting is that the 4th horseman is cut out of the picture and he is carrying a bow, which he is starting to draw back. In this case you can see both hands with the same dexterity.

        Some historians interpret the phalanx of riders charging down all before them as personifications of Victory, War, Inflation and Death. The horseman whose hands you liked, can also be interpreted as Hunger or alternatively as Divine Justice (maybe because of the scales in his other hand), and the archer (the one not shown) as the Plague.

        Durer upon returning from his first trip to Italy, seems to have been working closely with Ulrich von Hutten who was a knight, humanist and a poet. They may have worked together on some of Durer’s woodcuts. There were lots of rumors at that time about the ending of all things, dark omens, floods, earthquakes, eclipses, plagues and monstrous births.

        After Hutton died in 1523, Durer did a watercolour titled “Vision” 1525 which was connected to the Apocalyptic work. Durer wrote at the bottom of the watercolor about an apocalyptic nightmare that he experienced. In the nightmare there was a torrential rainstorm that was falling like a flood.

  5. trueoutsider says:

    Let’s take another example like this Christoffel Jegher woodcut after Rubens Garden of Love

    and compare with S. Clay Wilson. Again, while the extraordinary ability of Rubens to draw something from imagination as if it was life is far from Wilson’s capability, Wilson can still access a completely imagined scene and make it present using his own unique vocabulary and visual language. I believe that it’s largely because he and Crumb were self taught that there work is more compelling than the artists who went through the horrors of Art Theory pummeling the life out of them at art schools through the 60s, 70s and onward.

    It’s also worth noting that Zap comic artists were inventing a whole new form from scratch. Delving into the comics tradition but mutating it radically. Now comic art has become stale and academic for the most part. The subconscious energies that the psychedelic comic guys tapped into are formalized and rigid for the most part… or really primitive. Maybe I’m just being an old grouch. But there’s nothing I see that has the kind of feeling and raw quality, combined with the really masterful drawing ability of Crumb. I do like some stuff. But Crumb is about the only comic artist working I find really exciting. Wilson, as far as I know, isn’t working because he had a brain injury from a fall. For me, Wilson, Crumb and Kim Deitch were the top artists of that era. And subsequent comic work has never reached those heights.

  6. Steve says:

    The Crumb drawing is striking in the solid simple way he has conceived it, and I love the way he uses cross-hatching to do double-duty as hair and modeling. I need to get my hands on that book.
    Describing him as a monk, cloistered-off somewhere, concentrating soley on his work sounds wonderful to me. My own life is so immersed in the world that there is no escape, even at home. I’ve tried mightily to ‘cordon’ off a part of my days or nights to dedicate that space and time to painting, but it just doesn’t happen. It makes me wonder if an artist can have home & family and art at the same time anymore. You’re spot-on about tv being the ruination of modern consciousness; it’s a sound-bite world now with film-flickering ticker-tape images moving too fast for any real understanding or appreciation of what is seen. And the modern ‘atelier’ or life-drawing situation isn’t helping. I recently went back to my college town to visit an old painter buddy and he took me to his morning life drawing session, where the model and the students were doing the exact same poses and drawings that we did 40 years ago,…with the same predictable results. More bad drawings to stack up in a corner somewhere and not be of any use. No learning or growing , it felt more like chewing without swallowing, because there wasn’t anything worth swallowing. For my own needs, the painting comes first with the model used to augment that particular concept. And “memory drawing” may be one of the main missing ingredients in painting today. It’s the necessary ‘in-between’ skill so vital for putting life and poetry into a visible idea. Looking at the Durer work I can see how real skills used to be built-up one upon the other until the mastery of hand & eye became second nature.

  7. trueoutsider says:

    I realize now why I made the connection between Dürer and Crumb/ Wilson. Dürer was having visions of the Apocalypse or painting visions as in the painting above of the Martyrdoms. And what were Crumb and Wilson having? Visions, of course, brought on by the use of hallucinogens like LSD. They’d opened up the doors or perception and their subconscious visions had been unlocked. Crumb has talked about it at as what liberated his drawing. Wilson was actually the one who influenced Crumb to go ahead and let rip with all his sexual fantasy material. I’m not sure if Wilson talked about the use of psychedelics, so I’m speculating. But I’d be pretty surprised if they weren’t the catalyst with him as well.

    It’s definitely difficult to get into the zone with all the distractions around. I like working late at night when everyone is asleep. And during the day, if I’m working in coffeeshops or public spaces drawing I’ve taken to wearing a big set of headphones plugged into an ipod. This acts as something to warn people off disturbing me. It also blocks all the crappy ambient music that is generally muzak type stuff I don’t want to hear. It also blocks out conversations that people are having that can be distracting.

    Think of Lilly and his sensory deprivation tanks. People would spontaneously hallucinate when floated in tanks of water with no light. That’s also what the CIA uses to torture prisoners, thus the hooded prisoners at Abu Ghraib.

    The headphones can act like that if I just play the same track over and over.

    If the CIA were doing it, it would be torture. But if you control it, like Lilly with the sensory deprivation tanks, the more you limit your sensory inputs the easier it is to get into the imaginary world of the drawing.

    It’s also why life drawing produces so much crap. All the distractions and other people calling the shots on the pose and model rests, etc. You can’t get into the full unconscious trance state necessary.

  8. trueoutsider says:

    And we can link back here to the Turner post on the trance state for a contemporaneous description of an Old Master:

  9. trueoutsider says:

    R. Crumb drawing:

    Crumb on LSD, drugs:

  10. johnk823 says:

    Bart, I use my I-Touch with music I created myself on it along with a set of Sony headsets to help block out all the surrounding noises and disturbances. I’m better able to concentrate on whatever it is I’m doing.

    The drawings of Wilson and Crumb bring to mind William Hogarth. Hogarth’s “The Analysis of Beauty” is worth reading, particularly his theory of the line of beauty, or the serpentine line.

    I’m also reminded of all the ornamental designs from that period, as well as the gargoyles, devils, dragons griffins, cartouches, Stone balustrades, Arabesques, roof cornices, and Renaissance-era cabinetry. All were done with an exquisite attention to detail and endless invention.

    • trueoutsider says:

      I recall reading some of Crumb’s early letters where he mentions the influence of artists like Hogarth and James Gillray.

      Below is Hogarth’s Gin Lane, with its Brueghel-like profusion of human folly. One can see the clear similarity to Crumb’s work, and Wilson’s as well. In a certain way the connection to Wilson is even more vivid because Of Wilson’s choice of Pirates, who range back to the 1560s up until the 1720s and were certainly contemporaneous with Hogarth. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of Wilson’s work to choose from of good quality for me to reproduce.

      Wilson’s imaginings are so elaborate and bizarre that for me they’re much more evocative than the kind of standard pirate illustrations of illustrators like Pyle and Wyeth, where the range of the artistic imagination is confined to the standard rules of design and photographic depiction.



  11. Steve says:

    Crumb once made color portraits ( ink or watercolor ) of his favorite musicians from the 20’s ,30’s and 40’s, for a book-record album. Jug bands, early cowboy singers, blues greats, etc. This were illustrations, like all his work but I particularly liked them because they were infused with love. I could gaze at them for long periods of time over and over, not ever tiring of them. His work done for other reasons, notoriety, shock, or just plain honest expression of sexual fantasy leaves me cold and my interest wanes almost immediately, no matter how well done they are. In other words, almost all the work for which he is famous is stuff I wouldn’t care to see again. But he can be profoundly serious artist. One of his drawings showing a small cowering figure huddled on the floor in front of a maze of electricity panels is entitled: The Little Man Inside My Brain ( or something like that ). But I believe there is another man inside his brain that isn’t scared, hurt, and borderline insane,…one that loves life and great art. That’s the R. Crumb that I really like.
    The N.C. Wyeth illustration is intriguing to me for painterly reasons. I love the painted rocks in the foreground, almost Van Gogh-like in expressive strokes. In fact, I like the cliffs behind the figures too. I realize that this is an illustration for Treasure Island, and if I had seen that book with these illustrations in it when I was a boy, it would’ve thrilled me. But, if you take away the figures, keeping everything else, it would also be a powerful landscape painting. I’m not sure the same can be said for Norman Rockwell’s painted illustrations of figures in an environment.

  12. trueoutsider says:

    I won’t try to change your views, Steve. Whatever you like is fine with me. I’ve never been a big fan of that kind of standard boy adventure illustration. It is better than Rockwell, which I find really ingratiating and completely hokey. But neither of them satisfy. They’re just too literal. It’s much like the French Academy, like Gerome. Standard exotic costumes and locales but basically contrived and detached because it stays with the text. Treasure Island is far more exciting to me as I see it in my imagination. And the pirates are far more like Wilson’s than Wyeth’s in my imagination. Wyeth’s Long John Silver looks like he came off a Hollywood lot, clothes are in good shape, a kind of he-man type. I see the real pirates as scurvy ridden diseased never having bathed and misshapen — also small and wiry-scrawny. People didn’t bathe at all back in those days even in the English court. So one can only imagine pirates hygiene. Like Rockwell’s soda fountain freckled kids and sparklingly attired soldiers…. Then you see a film like Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan” with that real hell of the D-Day Invasion.

    Also I love all of Crumb’s work right down the line. It brings all that era vividly to life, and mercilessly satirically. The “revolutionary” delusions. Worship of Rock and Rollers, phony gurus. I like some things better than others. But who else even comes near chronicling those years in some kind of graphic form? And those years had the greatest cultural ferment we’ve seen since. The work was provocative enough for him to get the IRS after him and shut down his political work, which was getting really wild with that Snowman comic and their plot to bomb the White House. A lot of it’s a mad sex romp because that’s what was going on! The free love, bra-burning, psychedelic madness.

    I loved hearing him condemn all the drug use of those days, as do I. And of course, I love all the blues comics and his work with Pekar of the ordinary days of a working class guy doing hospital work. There’s an honesty and looking at the lives of real people with all their delusions and foibles.

    That’s why I find him a great artist. You get to see inside his head. It’s not about formal ideas and theories. That’s what Picasso does as well. Crumb isn’t Picasso by a long shot. But he’s doing the same thing that Picasso is… letting his emotions and subconscious out there without editing and worrying about what people are going to think. He’s exploring his own deep psychic material. But he’s also looking really closely and observing the society in which he finds himself.

    That, for me, is what makes an artist an artist. Otherwise, it’s all academic. It’s a display of technical skill using pre-determined “aesthetic” discoveries.

    I like illustration, too, as I keep saying. But it’s not something that gets me inspired in the way Picasso does. Picasso’s work is exciting. Illustration is eye pleasing if it’s really good illustration. And there’s a lot of that out there. What I don’t see a lot of is exciting art work that comes from some real energy and emotional risk-taking.

    All these notions of artists and their ideas I find absolutely pretentious and boring. I can go into that a bit another time. I was just reading how Jeff Koons was developing this or that idea for years…

  13. Steve says:

    I see far more illustration every day than my stomach can stand, while casing the mail for my route. For 25 years I’ve had to handle that god-awful cultural crap and look at it no matter how repugnant it is for me. I almost never take a second look at any magazine cover , and I deliver them all, fashion , sports, news, music, art, medical journals, movie mags,…you name it and I have to hold it up close and, look straight at it. It’s a modern malevolent kind of torture. I despise it all. It’s never good, only some are less terrible than others, like the Wyeth illustration above; but even that is a sorry shrug more than it is a nod for me. I can’t honestly put all message oriented art in the repulsive category, because that would include Guernica and many other great works in painting history. But it’s a very narrow needle to thread for my picture- poisoned sensibilities. And I should add in all fairness that the very worst example of it , and what I most hate, is when it occurs in my own painting. When it does, that’s when I question the value of me continuing to be an artist. For this reason I am very leery about doing social commentary. I am no Honore Daumier:

  14. trueoutsider says:

    Daumier’s another marvel from the 19th century.

    Both as a sculptor and a master draftsman:

    But he had to pay a price for siding with the people. Just as Courbet did. This satire of Louis-Philippe got him put in jail for six months:

    It’s clear where Daumier’s sympathies were:

    Here’s a portrait of a couple of us by Daumier:

    Here’s Picasso’s version:

    Here’s Dürer’s knight beset by death and the devil:

    • Steve says:

      Great art! I have loved Daumier’s 3rd Class Carriage painting since I first encountered fine art in college ( my high school art class verged on the criminal for neglect,…I could ring my old art teacher’s neck for those three wasted years ). Daumier might be the reason I’m a shop steward in my post office, that’s how easily influenced I was as a very young art student. Thank God my college painting & drawing teachers weren’t into illustration. Bless them. Just looking at these works by Daumier, Durer, & Picasso inspire me to paint when it seems there’s no reason to paint. There is a reason: beauty & truth. I shouldn’t have to keep relearning that, but the daily grind of life, and our “vast wasteland” of western culture, can tear a fella down. It isn’t hope for society that I get from these paintings, drawings, and sculptures, and I’m not looking for that. It is compassion for, and valuing of, a single human being.
      Today, the Sisley & Beckmann books that I requested at our local library came in! I’ll have to set Cezanne aside for now, because there is a time- limit on ‘inter-library loan’ books. Durer, Daumier, Beckmann, Cezanne, Sisley, Picasso,…it’s an embarrassment of riches.

      • trueoutsider says:

        Most of my painting and drawing instructors considered illustration beneath contempt. Illustration was taught in Commercial Art Classes. It didn’t help my blending in at art school when I was painting these big city scapes with something like Nancy’s brillo head ominously emerging from a sewer hole. Of course the very idea of narrative was seen as dementedly backwards in the “fine arts” of that time which is why Guston was symbolically tarred and feathered by the established dealer and critical community of the day. But his courage in breaking through that barrier of snobbery and pretense was immensely galvanizing at the time, allowing any number of other artists to think in terms of drawing from their own life. Unfortunately the Pop artists, which their “ironic” and once again art pretentious work, were what commanded the art historical state. Much more interesting artists, like those in Chicago, Peter Saul, Oyvind Fahlstrom and Jess were marginalized–primarily for what I consider the simple hubristic reason that none of those artists lived in NYC, which arrogated to itself the sole role as Great Art Capitol and everywhere else as secondary and inferior.

        And I think what Guston was after was looking at the vast wasteland for signs of the humble and human and a simple connection to a visual and narrative language that allowed him to talk about his own life and many other things. He was an immensely well-read intellectual and it’s clear he felt bounded completely by having to paint in just abstract form. When he broke out into figuration, he never looked back.

  15. trueoutsider says:

    Note: A Crumb/Guston low/high art discussion begins here:

  16. johnk823 says:

    Durer’s engraving “Melancholia I” has been analyzed at great lengths for many years by art historians, astronomers, mathematicians, and others. There have been numerous speculations regarding the numbers in magic square, in the upper right side of the engraving, with all the numbers in the square. When you add them all up in any direction vertical, horizontal or diagonally, they all have the same sum (34) as a final result. It is thought that the top row contains Durers mother day, year and month that his mother died, and in the bottom row the 15 and 14 are the date of the engraving itself. To me, the bat- like creature behind the title on the left side over the watery landscape in the background and the sign of a rainbow and comet tracing through the sky have an apocalyptic feel. I see the figures and the dog and tools as representing a human creativity, held in tension by the danger of paralysis that can overtake the power to react.

    Durer utilizes much of the same vocabulary in Melancolia I in many of his other works: the scales, the hourglass, bells, tools of his era, skull and other various things. It would be interesting to know the particulars of Dürer’s personal biography.

  17. trueoutsider says:

    Here’s Melancolia I (1514) which was the engraving by Dürer that Guston always kept posted in his various studios.

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