Palettes in Reproductions – Rembrandt

What do we see when we look at our screens?

 

 

 

 Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669), De roof van Proserpina,ca. 1632, oil-paint on panel,
84,5 x 79,9 cm., Staatliche Museen, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin.

The above are three images, of many more, that pop up in my browser when searching for Rembrandt’s Proserpina.

Their differences are huge and what makes it even more confusing is the strong blue in the lower image. 
So which one of these three images represents the original painting? The palette used in it’s creation? How to choose? 
Unlike Vermeer, Rembrandt is not known for an abundant use of blue pigments. The blue sky is probably a mistake and the image can be discarded.

Picturing Rembrandt’s body of work, we see brown as the leading colour, followed by reds and yellows. 

In pigments this would be:
red & yellow earth (ochre and sienna)
umber (burnt & raw)
black (ivory, lamp, bone)
vermillion
lead tin yellow
lead white
madder & other red lakes

A palette that dominated painted art from the 16th up to the 18th century.

Following this reasoning, one of the two other  images should be the one resembling the original.

The middle one shows the familiar warm browns, but is extremely yellow. Even with many layers of an oily varnish, it’s unlikely this would be the result. 

Leaves us with the top image. Yes, this one certainly has it’s points. The brown hues and the subtle grey of the sky, both part of a convincing 17th century old master’s palette. It  brings to mind other landscapes painted by Rembrandt.

 

 

Rembrandt, Landscape with a stone bridge, ca. 1638, oil-paint on panel, 29.5 x 42.5 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

A landscape like this one with the stone bridge, which I have seen many times in the museum. I have always been impressed how it appears to have been painted with ease , the beautiful umbers and browns and the golden light. The efficient use of middle-tones, creating deep and lively shades.
This painting has been my reference point for landscape painting by Rembrandt.
It still was when I visited Berlin and the Gemaeldegalerie.
I was not prepared for the confrontation with a  brighter, apparently different palette.
When I saw the Proserpina painting  on the wall in the museum, I had to read the attribution twice to be convinced it really was a Rembrandt.
The painting in situ in Berlin, daylight conditions. Photo monica rotgans

Like his colleagues, Rembrandt did use strong blues and greens, but most of these pigments  have turned brown or disappeared. However, in this particular painting the blue is still as stunning and overpowering as it was when it was painted, which sets it apart from his other works.

According to the colour-temperature the blue is probably made from lapis lazuli, natural ultramarine (I haven’t read the conservationist’s report yet) and it shines. Applying the extremely expensive natural ultramarine had to be done with care. The use of a non-oily binder is the reason why it still stands out in it’s bright hues.

The sky was originally in harmony with the greens of the full green foliage, and the strong colouring of the clothing of the main characters: reds, purples, blue (other), violet, and yellow. However, the greens based on copper-pigments and a warm lake yellow, have fallen away, as have the purples and reds, and the other, cheaper blues.

What we see is what time has left us of the original palette, helped along by the instability of some of the pigments and the negative effect of an abundant use of oils.
This detail shows clearly the loss of greens, purples, and blue.

 

The conclusion is that of the three images presented the lower one is the closest to the original. Also brown pigments were not the dominating colour in Dutch baroque painting, but the instability of pigments, the ageing of oils, in combination with layers of yellowed varnishes, have for a long time clouded our view and set the standard.

Fortunately, the revolution in conservation science enables us to be more aware of how art-works were originally intended, to recreate their colour-schemes in our mind when looking at painted art. Both in old and modern art.

The abundance and availability of (digital) images and reproductions are no guarantee, as long as there is no international standard or reference checkpoint, for a better understanding of the painter’s materials.

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Rembrandt’s faded colours

Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669) ‘De Staalmeesters’, 1662, 191 x 279 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

 

 Watching Time at Work

 Paint is an unreliable partner as Primo Levi remarked to the point in his book The Monkey’s wrench (1978). However, we  painters have to work with it and hope it will not play tricks on our work too quickly. 


With the developments in modern art and the focus on concept, combined with the avalanche of new pigments and binders like acrylics, it is still uncertain what the next generations will be able to see from what has been made since the 1960’s. Those years in which tradition and craft were condemned to be irrelevant and even a hindrance for the creative process.
But the times, and our thinking, are changing.
Crafts are being rediscovered and with them the historical materials and techniques. The ‘Old Masters’ are studied anew: their painting practice, thinking and works.
Masters like Rembrandt, whose once revolutionary and wilful artworks became icons in art, like his famous painting ‘De Staalmeesters’ (Syndics of Draper’s Guild).

‘ It is an old saying that rules are meant to be broken. No one did this more successfully than Rembrandt. For instance, the rich red in the table cloth in the Syndics is obtained by glazing a translucent red over brown, instead of over a brighter red. Rules are meant to be broken, but it is necessary to know first what the rules are. ‘

The above quotation is an example of the re-appreciation of the grumpy Dutchman’s craft. I encountered this quote in an instructional post offering advice on painting materials and techniques.
Indeed, you have to know the rules before you can break them. But you need to know all the rules involved. In this case the rules of time and colour need to be taken into account.
The author was not familiar with Primo Levi’s observation, which applies to most old art:  paint  is unreliable, ages, deteriorates, changes or even vanishes as a colour. All of these factors are visible in this still brilliant painting, which was radiant when it left the painter’s easel.

Yes, Rembrandt did paint a translucent red lake, but no, not over brown, which would have produced a dull, uninteresting red-brown. Most likely the glaze (some thickly applied parts are still visible) was used to intensify and darken a warm red. originally probably a purplish red, a combination of blue smalt and red lake(s), intended as a darker hue of the bright part of the cloth. This way the deeper and cooler red enhances the light falling through the high window. It opens up and accentuates the space in which the action is taking place. However, both pigments are famously unstable and can loose practically all their original colour.

Obviously my simple photo-shop tool can’t mimic the richness of the original paints, the rich glazes, the  lakes, blues and umbers, the hand of the painter. However, with a partial reconstruction you can get an  idea of the effect this richly coloured, costly, and exotic rug would have had in the composition. 

Nowadays we do not realise how extremely precious, special, and sought after these rugs once were.
In the picture it is a loud, clear, visual social statement, like today’s designer fashions and watches. The  Amsterdam Syndics belonged to the very wealthy and influential of the 17th century Dutch Republic. Expensive housing, furniture, cutlery, clothes, art-collections, and the status of the commissioned artists, were all vehicles to underline the social position of the portrayed.

Looking at the painting in it’s present condition, it is obvious how much the original paint-layers have suffered, losing colour due to the properties of the pigments, Rembrandt’s technique, and the impact of time. Losing an essential part of it’s symbolic meaning.

An antique Persian rug

Using what we know, the familiar, can be very helpful when we are studying a work of art. In this case, we know these rugs. They are commonly available as carpets. Often in red’s with blue, yellow and green decorations. Colourful pieces, so why does the painting show an undefined brown example of textile? 
Combining the practical knowledge of why and how these carpets are made with the awareness of the properties of historical pigments, binders and techniques, we can imagine the painting’s original colour-system.

The two Dutchmen below were portrayed during the same period as the Staalmeesters. And like the ‘Syndics’ these men are displaying who and what they are, using the commonly known symbols of their time to do so. 
These paintings share with Rembrandt’s the similar effects which time has on painted colour, though less obvious. Both have lost their blues, again this tricky smalt-blue and perhaps some indigo, and the red lakes. 
The landscape on the left has transformed into a dull grey background, as has the blue in the man’s costly clothing and that of his servant. The vanished lakes flatten the reds and blacks.

As a result of the tricks of time, Dutch oil-painting of the 16th, 17th and 18th century, seems to be dominated by the stable and sturdy red, brown, and yellow earth-pigments, vermilion, lead-white and blacks.

  It is unstoppable time at work.

Freshly finished rugs.

Behind the Painted Surface – M-Classes

 7Colours Project

  monicaR all rights reserved 

Van Gogh’s faded colours

Van Gogh’s Paint

  A lost battle between Colour & Time?

http://www.monicarotgans.nl/agenda/

Flowers, wheat-fields, starry nights and colourful portraits, some of the words associated with the famous painter’s work. Paintings with surfaces that reflect the intensity, concentrated haste, and often rising frustration, in which they were  painted.
We know Van Gogh (1853-1890) as a colourist, a painter who took full advantage of the new possibilities  offered in the field of paint and colour by the Industrial Revolution. Innovations that swept like a tsunami first through the western world and then flooded the rest of the globe. The new pigments with strong reds, yellows, greens and blues allowed for a broader and more effective use of colour-theories. Colours which were until then either too rare and expensive, or just not existent, like warm blues, strong, clear greens and solid yellows. A situation which is now difficult to imagine living in a modern world with our daily and unlimited access to thousands of colours.

The interaction of colour is one of van Gogh’s main tools. Strategically placing primary and secondary colours, opposing cool and warm, and using structure to enhance or to break the intensity of a hue. The complexity of this thinking should be visible and give us better understanding of his approach and goal, and writing. How his works were meant to be. Unfortunately many of the newly available pigments Van Gogh (and his colleagues) used, turned out to be unstable. Some drastically unstable. The consequence is that the slow disintegration of the colours is unstoppable, even in the strictly controlled circumstances in the museums.

In 1913, 23 years after Van Gogh’s death, Charles Moreau-Gauthier published the book La peinture. Les divers procédés in which he included examples of discolouration in modern paints. Discolouration caused by exposure to light. The effect on some colours is quite disastrous. Chrome yellows turn brown (the brown dots in the painting at the top)  and some red lakes completely disappear. Unfortunately these were two of van Gogh’s popular paints, playing an important part in his balanced colours-schemes. The impact on how Van Gogh’s work has survived is big. The combination of unstable pigments, destroying varnishes, thin grounds, haste and transports, have altered the canvases irreversibly.
But thanks to the Digital Revolution we can try and undo some of the effects of the Industrial Revolution. Using natural and conservation science and original pigments, in combination with my experience as a painter and colourist, I have developed a method to recreate van Gogh’s palettes. These palettes provide the base of a digital reconstruction of which the Metropolitan’s ‘Irisses’ can be seen here.

The painting in it’s actual state. 
Van Gogh describes the irisses in his letter from May 11, 1890 as

‘…de grands bouquets de fleurs d’Iris violets, les unes contre un fond rose où l’effet est harmonieux et doux par la combinaison des verts, roses, violets….’

  There is no mentioning of white, blue and brown. The result based on the remade palette with violets, red, yellow and warm greens, alters the painting considerably, showing the harmony Van Gogh describes in his letter.
This partial digital reconstruction is an example of the importance of the material side of an art work. How the knowledge and understanding of the colours handled by the artist to transform an idea into matter, changes our perception.

my partial reconstruction of background and bouquet (monicaR all rights reserved 2015)

The reconstructed  paint on a linen surface. It is a clear example of the gap between paint, print and pixels, which can be so misleading when looking at reproductions.
monicaR all rights reserved

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