In the previous post, we explored a collection of paintings reunited and exhibited together after centuries, while also drawing connections between art and fashion. Let's continue the thread looking at another recently reunited work: The Lamentation Altarpiece. This theme is particularly fitting as we're in the Holy Week, the period between Palm Sunday and Easter, observed by Christians commemorating the Passion of Jesus Christ.
Created around 1515 in Franconia (now part of modern Bavaria) by an artist simply referred to as the "Franconian Master," this artwork found its way to a church in the UK where it was disassembled and sold in the '90s.
The wings of the altarpiece, featuring St. Christopher carrying the Infant Christ and St. George and the Dragon (on the inner panels), as well as St. Catherine and St. Barbara (on the outer panels), were acquired by Compton Verney, an art gallery in Warwickshire, UK. Meanwhile, the central panel depicting The Lamentation found its home in the National Gallery of Scotland.
This 500-year-old altarpiece holds an aura of mystery. It was probably commissioned to commemorate the 1527 death of Kasimir Friedrich, Margrave of Brandenburg-Ansbach, as his coffin is depicted in the artwork, surrounded by his family and peers.
Friedrich's demise in Hungary likely inspired the depiction of St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers, on the front left panel, while his brother Georg's succession might explain St. George's presence on the front right panel. The stylistic resemblance of St. Christopher and St. George to the works of Albrecht and Hans Dürer is notable (the artwork was at one stage signed by Dürer, but this was proved to be a later addition).
On the other hand, St. Catherine and St. Barbara are rendered in a distinct style, leading to speculation that they were repurposed from another altarpiece to fit the height of The Lamentation. Apart from the Dürer brothers, the artist may have drawn inspiration from Lucas Cranach the Elder.
What's intriguing about recent studies on the piece is that they were conducted by Christine Cluley, a volunteer and tour guide at the Warwickshire art gallery. Driven by her passion, Cluley embarked on a decade-long quest across Europe to uncover the truth behind the panel's origins.
Cluley meticulously traced its provenance, even discovering it listed in a German inventory from 1768, and identified it in another painting. Ultimately, the altarpiece made its way to England in the 1920s before being sold in 1993.
It has been determined that the side panels belong alongside the centerpiece, leading to two likely candidates emerging as the author of the artwork - Hans Baldung and Wolfgang Traut, contemporaries and admirers of Thomas Cranach and Albrecht Dürer (Baldung was one of Dürer’s most celebrated pupils). Yet numerous aspects of the altarpiece remain unknown and shrouded in uncertainty.
Now, let's turn instead to what we do know: fashion connections (naturally, what else?). St. Catherine's jewels, particularly the thick chains adorning her neck and décolletage are fascinating, as well as the voluminous green cape enveloping her dress. Jewels are also abundant in the portrayal of St. Barbara (could we reimagine them? Artificial Intelligence seems to be pretty inventive when it comes to recreating Renaissance jewels in a modern key), yet the most intriguing detail in this panel maybe lies in the golden and brown petticoat St. Barbara reveals beneath her red gown (reminiscent of Undercover's A/W 17 palette).
Fashion-wise, St. George steals the spotlight. The limp, lifeless dragon in his left hand looks in a sorry state, while he is resplendent in an armor matched with what looks like a pink pleated skirt. Unlike the conventional defensive metal skirts, which often consisted of overlapping metal plates forming apron or inverted cupcake-like skirts for protecting a knight's crotch or legs, here we find a proper knee-length skirt made of fabric, creating a clash between the hard armor and the soft fabric.
On whose runway would we see something like that (Comme des Garçons, maybe?)? Who knows, but if you want to imagine it, try playing around with this idea with Artificial Intelligence and you'll get some interesting renditions of this ensemble (in the first one included in this post Midjourney almost managed to recreate the striped motif on the skirt).
The central panel is a richly colored composition, titled "The Lamentation of Christ with a Group of Donors," depicting Christ's body being lowered alongside donors positioned on the right side of the painting. However, the scales and perspectives are somewhat perplexing, as the donors appear diminutive compared to other figures. Two of the donors sport the gold insignia of the chivalric and religious Order of the Swan, founded in 1440 by the Elector of Brandenburg and particularly esteemed in Franconia, where the author of the painting was active.
While the deceased Christ should logically command attention, the emphasis seems to be on Mary Magdalene, expressing her sorrow in a traditional gesture of grief (think about this character and the representation of her sorrow also in "The Descent from the Cross" by Rogier van der Weyden), along with St. John. The former stands with arms raised, drawing focus to her red paned sleeves, while St. John dons a striking blood-red cape (another symbolic color often used in paintings to depict this character in lamentation / deposition scenes). In both instances, the figures exude dynamism and movement, largely thanks to the the depiction of the fabrics of their garments (St. John's cape seems suspended in mid-air).
As seen also in previous posts, paintings can impart great fashion lessons, especially if you keep your eyes open and try and spot interesting details. As for this story of a masterpiece reunited, well, it offers an additional valuable lesson: moved by her passion, a tour guide conducted thorough research on a work of art, proving one doesn't require academic credentials to do an intensive research, but great passion and sound investigative skills.
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