Vermeer's Art of Painting

A fictional narrative about Vermeer's Art of Painting, originating from the perspective of a 17th century biographer.

The next artist is more mystery than man, whom I have recently stumbled upon, yet regret not having the pleasure to have discovered previously in my time as a scholar. However, I will reckon upon the life he lived namely since a work has the ability to describe its creator just as a painter creates the work himself. Known by the name of Vermeer, this man made his mark in the minuscule town of Delft, charming and sweet in its simplicity, situated comfortably from distant urban rush and chatter, yet close enough to acquire as much artistic history and talent as any other town in the country.

In his younger years, Vermeer grew up surrounded by many siblings, always full of energy running about through the house and fields, which developed into a love of scenes and spaces overflowing with strewn objects, not only representing the chaos and vivid spontaneity of life but also an awareness of human interaction with the world. His mother and father, constantly busy, striving to keep the family afloat, supported Vermeer in his endeavors and managed to salvage enough money to allow him an apprenticeship under the country’s finest artists, evidenced now by his mastery of perspective, most noticeably in the flawless execution of the black and white marble floor and shimmering chandelier dangling from the wooden ceiling beams. In this painting that I have come across, Vermeer has painted an allegorical scene, demonstrating his knowledge of classical antiquity in addition to his love of history and its modern representations.

In the background, a large tapestry hangs on the wall, depicting the geography of our beloved country. However, upon observation of the creases scattered throughout, our talented fellow is most perceptive in his approach to viewing the world, as he has clearly identified and made visible the invisible force driving, splitting, and tearing our nation apart. He speaks towards his opinion of the nation’s current unrest and his feelings regarding its welfare, that it is of such importance that he burns with the inclination to incorporate his national awareness into his works themselves, leaving them not just in the mind or solely in actions outside of the canvas, but within them, each stroke immortalizing the past and present political turmoil.

Vermeer, although having grown up around many people, preferred to live a private life, far from the possibility that passersby on the streets near the grachten may catch a glimpse and heaven forbid recognize him! He sits on a stool, painting a young woman, with his back to the viewer, denying us the opportunity to gaze at his features, ones that may strike us most interesting and allow us the insight into the essence of a man who gleams with ambition, working tirelessly to perfect a passion and all-consuming devotion to the arts. In its effect, Vermeer reveals that he lived the life of a man who kept to himself and yearned for society to recognize him by his artwork rather than by his public identity. Ironically, his art has now become his identity, although he may not know this since he has recently died.

Though in his years in Delft, our artist lived a carefree existence, fashioning his world, not to mention his attire, fittingly to his tastes. Sporting medium length tussled brown locks, it is clear he enjoyed many walks outside along the windy streets, yet always remained prepared, keeping his feet well dressed in comfortable socks to prevent blisters from his recurrent wandering. His frizzy hair embodies another tale, lacking of hygiene, the result of indulging in his practice so diligently that he paid no mind to care for himself, not unlike a seamstress so burdened with fashioning clothing that she neglects to salvage her own attire. Yet during his wandering, Vermeer did think best. On his daily strolls, he often indulged in the company of a woman, and I reckon that any of the women who frequently accompanied him bore a similar resemblance to the woman in this piece. Vermeer not only was a lover of painting women and admiring them, but was also a lover of women himself. Evidenced by the woman’s downcast eyes, this the kind of partner Vermeer preferred— shy and elegant, subtly radiant from within. Not one to be bold, yet consistently sophisticated and humbly confident. When not physically present, she still remained ever contained in the mind of her lover.

Now our Vermeer, though internally and personally conservative, relished in all dimensions that art had to offer and dabbled in sculpture and music. The white cast of a man’s face lying on the table, rumored to be that of his first mentor, represents a simultaneous homage to his master and experiment for personal endeavor. Although he dabbled with sculpture, it never quite took hold as his main passion, and for that, we are eternally grateful. A lover of all music and musical instruments, of material objects capable of producing the rich, vibrant, golden sounds of the heavens, Vermeer took immense pleasure in listening to musicians perform grandiose tunes while he painted, concurrently indulging in multiple art practices while also incorporating them into his works, as is seen with the woman and her trumpet. A lover of excess and connoisseur of collection, our worldly traveler spared no expense obtaining the finest materials, cloths, trinkets, tapestries, books, and chests. He experienced the world, and in return, the world experienced him by virtue of his everlasting art.

#art #StLouis #creative