CORNELISZ VAN OOSTSANEN, Jacob

In the foreground on this small wooden panel, one of the artist’s earliest dated works, Jacob Cornelisz. van Oostsanen shows a scene from the story of the Resurrection as recounted in St John’s Gospel. Mary Magdalene meets the risen Christ and mistakes him for a gardener. When she recognises him, she throws herself at his feet. Christ then speaks to her the words the artist has painted in artful Gothic lettering on the trim of his garment: ‘Touch me not, Mary, for I am not yet ascended to my Father’ (Maria noli me tangere - nondum enim ascendi ad patrem).

In the middle and far distance, integrated in a finely-detailed landscape, the painter shows four more episodes grouped around the central motif; the two Marys at the empty tomb, Jesus meeting the three Marys, his encounter with the pilgrims on the road to Emmaus, and the meal at Emmaus. In the artist’s time and later, it was quite usual to group together a series of events on one single panel, as it was indeed to show Mary as an elegantly-dressed early-sixteenth-century lady.

In the middle and far distance, integrated in a finely-detailed landscape, the painter shows four more episodes grouped around the central motif; the two Marys at the empty tomb, Jesus meeting the three Marys, his encounter with the pilgrims on the road to Emmaus, and the meal at Emmaus.

This woodcut is from a series illustrating the life of the Virgin.

Although workshops were smaller and their output more limited at the beginning of the 16th century than earlier, there was at least one painter or shop in almost every northern town in the Low Countries. In Amsterdam a rather conservative shop was run by Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen, and then by his son Dirck Jacobsz (c. 1497-1567).

On this memorial painting, executed by the Oostsanen workshop, the donors kneel before the Virgin Mary with the crucified Christ on her lap. They are accompanied by patron saints: on the left St Andrew, identifiable by the St Andrew’s cross, and on the right St Christopher with his staff and the infant Christ on his shoulder.

Suggested listening (streaming mp3, 22 minutes):

Heinrich Sch�tz: Die sieben Worte am Kreuz SWV 478

This is a rare portrayal of the eucharistic Christ, lamented by angels, who collect the blood flowing from his wounds in a chalice.

Mary Magdalen, one of the most popular female saints in the early sixteenth century, is depicted here at half-length, as a wealthy young woman, delicately holding the ointment jar that anointed Christ’s feet, within a luxurious setting. She is well dressed and wears elegant jewelry, painted in meticulous detail. This panel may also be a portrait of an unknown sitter in the guise of the female saint.

The sitter of this portrait is Jan Gerritz. van Egmond van de Dijenborgh, elected Burgomaster of Alkmaar. He is portrayed bust-length wearing a black fur-trimmed coat, holding a pomander, seen within an arched decorated embrasure, a landscape beyond. It was suggested that the architectural framework and roughly-painted distant landscape are the work of workshop assistants.

Seventeenth-century artists often made remarkable use of the contrast between foreground and background. A small image in the background provided the key to the meaning of the principal scene. Among those who employed this device were Pieter Aertsen and Joachim Beuckelaer. An early example is found in this painting by Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen, Saul and the Witch of Endor, in which several episodes from the biblical story are depicted in a simultaneous narrative, while the clue to the scene is hidden in the distance.

In order to unravel this puzzling picture one has to be familiar with the Old Testament story found in the first book of Samuel, especially chapters 28 and 31, which relates that Saul, the first king of the people of Israel, was counseled by the priest Samuel for many years. Eventually, though, Saul rejected him and began acting in defiance of God’s commands, whereupon God charged Samuel with the task of finding a new king for Israel. The choice fell on David, but Saul refused to accept him. He was confronted with mounting difficulties, one of which was a disastrous war with the Philistines. Just before the decisive battle, Saul decided to consult a fortune-teller to seek the advice of the dead Samuel.

On the far left, Saul and several of his men arrive to consult the witch, with the tents of Saul’s army in the background. The sorceress, half naked and seated in a magic circle, summons a witches’ sabbath. This foreground scene does not come from the Bible, although the latter does refer to the witch’s magical arts. Witches flying through the skies on a ram, like the one in the right background, were a symbol of the devil in the late middle ages, and it was with their help that the witch could harness secret forces. Through the gateway in the centre one sees Samuel emerging from his grave, rebuking Saul for disturbing the repose of the dead. In the distance is the real key to the meaning of the picture: the battle that Saul lost, after which he committed suicide by falling on his sword. Saul’s godless desire to know the future, which led him to disturb the dead, proved fatal.

Suggested listening (streaming mp3, 15 minutes):

Johann Kuhnau: Saul Cured by David through Music (No. 2 of the 6 Stories from the Bible illustrated in music)

Occasionally a painting contains extra information, about the scene itself, for example, or about the artist. This self-portrait by the Amsterdam painter Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen tells us important facts about his life. The note with the date 1533 and the house mark between an I and an A appear to announce that Iacobus Amstelodamensis, or Jacob of Amsterdam, painted this portrait of himself in 1533. It is known from the archives that Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen, the person behind the name Jacob of Amsterdam, must have died before 18 October 1533, the date of a document stating that his wife was a widow. That and the date on the Self-Portrait appear to be conclusive evidence that the artist did indeed die that year.

However, it has been suggested that he was dead by 1532, when one of his houses was sold. So 1533 or 1532 - it is not known for sure. On top of that, there are doubts about when the Self-portrait was actually executed. It is very close in style to the paintings that Jacob Cornelisz made around 1525, and he is not known to have made any more after 1526. It is possible that the date was added later, in the year of his death, and that we are looking at a Van Oostsanen who is younger than he appeared in 1533.

There is another panel in which the same man is seated before an easel, painting the portrait of an older woman. It is by Dirck Jacobsz, the couple’s son, who traced the head in the Rijksmuseum Self-Portrait and used it for the man by the easel. He then added his mother’s likeness, creating an anachronistic scene: a portrait of his father as he probably looked before 1533, and one of his mother as she appeared around 1550.

The picture shows the reverse side of the Triptych of the Adoration of the Magi. In its original position in the church, the triptych was closed for most of the year, and all that could be seen were the two grisailles of Sts Christopher and Anthony on the backs of the shutters. Back in the 16th century, the triptych was only exhibited on major feast days (and certainly on 6 January, the feast of the Epiphany), briefly revealing the painting in all its glory.

The central panel depicts the Crucifixion, the left wing represents St Francis with male donors, while the right wing St Barbara with female donors.

Viewers of Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen’s Adoration of the Magi in the Rijksmuseum are both missing and gaining something compared to the faithful of Van Oostsanen’s day. In its original position in the church, it was closed for most of the year, and all that could be seen were the two grisailles of Sts Christopher and Anthony on the backs of the shutters. They are hidden from sight in the present, open arrangement. Back in the 16th century, the triptych was only exhibited on major feast days (and certainly on 6 January, the feast of the Epiphany), briefly revealing the painting in all its glory.

This is a private memorial, a painted in memoriam for the donors - in this case a distinguished couple with a large clutch of children. Several of the latter have identical faces, so it is likely that they died very young. The triptych was probably returned to the family when the churches were Protestantised in the 1570s, but since it is not badly damaged it may have been taken to a place of safety by the donor’s descendants before the Iconoclasm broke out. Later, when it was evidently felt necessary to stress the noble descent of all branches of the family, the coats of arms were altered, making it impossible to identify precisely who the donor was. Because Jacob Cornelisz’s clientele came almost exclusively from Amsterdam, he would undoubtedly have been a respected burgher of that city. The splendid, fur-lined gown (known as a tabbaard) that he is wearing makes it clear that he belonged to the highest civic circles. He can perhaps be identified as the apothecary Claes Bouwensz, who had numerous children and was also one of the forefathers of the family bearing the principal coat of arms.

Jacob Cornelisz made nifty use of an invention he had come up with a decade previously. The Virgin seen from the front is presenting the Child to one of the Magi on the left in such a way that he can kiss its hand. The artist had employed that motif in a woodcut in a series illustrating the life of the Virgin. Those woodcuts served as models for other artists - possibly embroiderers, sculptors or decorative painters. In this case, though, he re-used his own compositional device. Sixteenth-century viewers very probably did not spot the repetition, but even if they did it would not have affected their appreciation of the work. The originality of a composition was not yet considered very important, and was certainly less highly prized than the wealth of colour and delicate finish.