Johannes Vermeer: Painter or Rebel?

It has always been muttered that playing the guitar is the work of the devil or, more famously, that rock and roll is the devil’s music.

During the Dutch Golden Age, the former was avidly believed. Whilst there were numerous superstitions bandied around during the 17th century, this one is particularly interesting as there is a wealth of Dutch guitar music and paintings of guitar playing to come from this era.

The Guitar Player, c. 1672.
Oil on canvas, 53 x 46.3 cm.
The Iveagh Bequest (Kenwood).
Courtesy of English Heritage.

In a society where superstition could cost a person their life (witch trials in the Netherlands in the 17th century were a common occurrence, the largest of which was the Roermond witch trial leading to the deaths of 64 people), pursuing or documenting an activity which was linked to the devil was a dangerous thing indeed. While music may just be music, and the guitar just a guitar, might it be said that Johannes Vermeer, in his depiction of The Guitar Player, was actually a true rebel of the Dutch Golden Age? If superstition was still as rife in 1673 as 1613 (the year of the Roermond witch trial) then, yes. Portraying an act considered to be of the devil may have been the 17th-century equivalent of David Bowie’s controversial “The Next Day” music video!

However, 60 years is a long time. It is possible that Vermeer, in this painting, was merely completing a portrait, that he simply liked music, or even that he was poking fun at a superstition which no longer held a place in society. But isn’t it more fun thinking of the great Dutch Master Johannes Vermeer as an artistic rebel harbouring an agenda to shock society?

Whether you think of Vermeer as a classical Dutch painter or a slightly more risqué artist with a bone to pick with society, you can find all you need to know about Vermeer and music at London’s National Gallery. Currently hosting the exhibition Vermeer and Music: The Art of Love and Leisure, which will be running until September 8th, this is an unparalleled opportunity to get to grips with a multisensory display. To further pique your interest, check out Johannes Vermeer by Jp. A. Calosse.

- Fiona Torsch

Vous avez dit typique

Sans avoir jamais mis les pieds à Amsterdam, l’idée d’aller visiter une antenne de musée placée installée la douane d’un aéroport constitue un argument suffisant a un week-end néerlandais – plus que les canaux, les coffee shops et le quartier rouge - et tout de même pas plus que les chefs d’œuvre du bâtiment principal du Rijksmuseum et le musée Van Gogh.


Johan Barthold Jongkind,
Moulins à Rotterdam, 1857.
Huile sur toile, 42,5 × 55 cm.
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Typically Dutch : c’est sous cette simplissime accroche que l’aéroport double du musée invite à venir  tacher d’appréhender un peu mieux a travers les yeux de ses peintres ce qui a fait les Pays-Bas, en passant par les Provinces-Unies et la République Batave. «Typique», le mot  me semble trop global, et a la limite du cliché – mais après tout, les biens connues scènes de genre, les portraits audacieux de Frans Hals, les ports et la campagne de Jongkind, puis le symbolisme inquiétant de Jan Toorop sont peut-être exactement ce que nous voulons voir en descendant d’un avion. Du Moyen Âge a nos jours, il y a des chances pour que l’exposition ne soit pas si typique, et en tous les cas parfaitement dans le ton teinté de fierté du dixième anniversaire de la création de l’antenne du Schiphol ainsi que de la grande réouverture du Rijskmuseum le 13 avril dernier.


Karel Appel,
Vierge Noire, 1952.
Huile sur toile, 130 cm × 89cm.
Risjkmuseum, Amsterdam.

Rendez-vous a l’exposition Typically Dutch au Rijksmuseum Schiphol jusqu’au 1^er juillet 2013. Pour plus de « typiquement hollandais », consultez l’ouvrage La Peinture hollandaise édité par Parkstone international.

Going Dutch

“Going Dutch”: a phrase which is most commonly associated with splitting the bill when going out to dinner.

Personally, I find that this is one of those phrases which we all use, and don’t really think about why we use it. I have merrily used these two simple words for many years – and yet it is only recently that it occurred to me to question where such a notion comes from.

Johan Barthold Jongkind
Windmills in Rotterdam, 1857.
Oil on canvas, 42.5 x 55 cm.
Courtesy of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Before I started doing some research into this, I have to admit that I did spend more time than I probably should have trying to puzzle this scenario out. I did, however, cross out the possibility that it originally meant going to eat Edam at a windmill, with a dress code of clogs and pearl earrings.