Oil on canvas, signed and dated on lower left: J. Victoors, fc, 1651
Dutch, 1619–after 1676
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One of life’s more pleasurable experiences is eating a good meal. Although, food shared with a friend or a group has the additional benefit of fellowship besides nourishment. There are a few food-related paintings in the M&G collection; however, this Dutch work includes a meal, and it is considered a favorite of many patrons. Added to the collection in 1968, it arrived from Europe unframed and in a shared crate with M&G’s Adoration of the Magi by Jan Boeckhorst.
Jan Victors was born in Amsterdam. His birthdate was deduced from a marriage license in 1642, which he signed at 22 years old. He was predeceased by his wife in 1661 with whom he fathered seven children. In his family there are two other painters, a brother and a son. He was raised in a strict Calvinist environment and painted only biblical scenes that did not include representations of God or Christ—most often themes from the Old Testament. In 1673, he left painting and a comfortable life in Amsterdam to minister to sailors of the East India company. He continued in this missionary endeavor until 1676 when he apparently succumbed to a fever while in the Dutch East Indies, now Indonesia.
Victors studied under Rembrandt and was part of his studio from 1632 to 1635. M&G’s work represents the pinnacle of his artistic skill. The precision and opulence of the table settings and garments reflect the wealth of the upper classes or royalty. Note the variety in the scene’s rich textiles: the heavy and lush curtains, the ermine-trimmed robe and brocade garment on King Ahasuerus, Queen Esther’s pearls and jewels as well as her silk dress embroidered with gold, and Haman’s silk-lined velvet garb featuring the 17th-century’s highly fashionable paned sleeves. The silver tableware is linked to well-known silversmiths of the day, the Van Vianens. The pineapple-shaped goblet resembles a design that was created by none other than Albrecht Durer.
Victors painted this same subject at least two other times prior to M&G’s work. Both are in Germany, one in Wallraf-Richartz Museum in Cologne (1645-1639) and the other in the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister in Kassel (c.1640).
Like many of his Dutch contemporaries, he painted biblical subjects representing Israel’s history. The Dutch identified with the captivity and persecution of the Jewish people having fought for their own independence from Roman Catholic Spain in the Eighty Years’ War.
Esther is a wonderful example of the providence of God, revealing His care for His chosen people—a quality of God’s character that believers can still trust today. The story for this painting is found in chapter 7 of the book of Esther, and the Jews’ victory over the evil Haman is still observed annually in March as the Feast of Purim.
John Good, Security Manager
Published 2022
Oil on canvas, c. 1625
Bolognese, 1591–1666
The nickname “Guercino” (the squinter) was given to the artist due to an eye defect which in no way deterred his ability or ambition to paint as evidenced by his lifelong production of hundreds of paintings, thousands of drawings, and numerous frescoes. He worked for Pope Gregory XV in Rome where his style began the transition from baroque to classical. The vigorous brushwork, saturated colors, and bold, naturalistic modeling of the figure of Jacob are hallmarks of this transitional period.
The composition of this work is unusual for Guercino. First, the work portrays, not a saint, but the biblical character, the mourning father Jacob. Second, only a single figure is rendered and not a scene of the biblical event, whereas most works illustrating this tragedy show Joseph’s brothers in addition to the patriarch. Because of these compositional choices, Guercino presents a moment in time for the observer to ponder the emotions of Jacob. As such, the work could be seen as an allusion to God the Father’s loss of His Son or as any parent’s loss of a child. Either way, the work is more devotional than historical.
But it is impossible to separate the figure from the story. The work’s primary impact is the pathos it generates in the viewer. Not only has Jacob lost his favorite son, but he becomes the victim of deceit, his lifelong characteristic. After deceiving his father, Jacob is deceived, in turn, by his father-in-law, who first marries him to Leah and later to Rachel whom he loves. Jacob favors Joseph, his eleventh son and elder of Rachel’s two sons, making him a coat of many colors. Their increased jealousy causes the brothers to sell Joseph into slavery and use the blood-stained coat to deceive their father into believing the teen was killed by wild beasts. A devastated Jacob looks to heaven. Is it to ask for God’s comfort or to ask God why He has brought evil into his life? Regardless, Jacob goes to the right source, though he receives no answer. Uncomforted, he declares, “I will go down into the grave unto my son mourning” (Gen 37:35).
The painting, however, does not match the biblical account. Rather than a vibrant cloak, Guercino’s white garment succeeds on both the literal and symbolic levels: the bloodstains which clinch the lie are clear evidence, and the color white (which indicates innocence) argues that Joseph has been unjustly treated by his brothers. However, God is at work. Ultimately, innocent Joseph is vindicated with the most powerful position in Egypt, second only to Pharoah, allowing him to save all of Jacob’s household during a prolonged famine.
This moving work, illustrating one of the most devasting losses a parent can experience, offers much to contemplate. But as with all proper devotional art, this work points the viewer to the God of all the earth who will do right. Bad things do happen to good people; this world is a vale of sorrows; and character flaws do bear fruit—but God guides the lives of His children, using even those “bad things” to work together for good.
Dr. Karen Rowe Jones, M&G board member
Published 2022
Gerrit van Honthorst
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Oil on canvas
French, 1596–1657
Sometimes it isn’t what you know, it’s who you know.
Jacques Stella travelled to Florence, Italy, and worked for Cosimo II de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany. Returning to France, Stella became official painter to Cardinal Richelieu and then Painter to the King (Louis XIII). But these powerful historic personages do not impact his work Adoration of the Shepherds.
Likely inspired by a prototype by Correggio, the first Italian to introduce the supernatural light emanating from Christ and illuminating the nocturnal scene1, Stella has one of the shepherds shield his eyes, foreshadowing Christ’s declaration of Himself as the “light of the world.” But it is not even this master of Italian art that figures most prominently in Stella’s painting.
Rather, it is his lifelong friend and fellow painter Nicolas Poussin whom he met during his 10 years in Rome between his service to the Duke and the Cardinal. Their similar works Adoration of the Shepherds reveal their friendship and knowledge of each other’s art.
Stella’s Adoration contains the obligatory elements in the lower half. But the viewer must read the upper half through the iconography of the lower. Mary, robed in blue, prays; Joseph kneels; and the shepherds wonder. Christ lies in the manger on a white cloth which outlines his extended left hand which, in turn, points directly at a resting lamb. Surprisingly, the baby is not “wrapped in swaddling clothes” (Luke 2:12). He is only diapered. On the far right two figures bear a basket containing two doves, an oddity until one remembers that the temple sacrifice to redeem the firstborn of a poor family was two turtledoves.
In these three ways Stella points to Christ as the Savior of the world: His identification as the Lamb of God, the necessity of a sacrifice for redemption, and the hinted-at burial shroud on which He’s resting.
So far, so good. But in the upper area are both angels and putti. The biblical account clearly states that the angels “had gone away from [the shepherds] into heaven” (Luke 2:15), so these figures show definite artistic license. In the air above his Holy Family, Nicolas Poussin also has putti; his are strewing flowers, a seemingly joyous gesture. However, the flowers are iconographic “flores of martyrum”2; these putti represent the Holy Innocents who by the hand of Herod will be the first martyrs for Christ. Though Stella does not include flowers, clearly his putti also represent the Holy Innocents—given the intimations of Christ’s own martyrdom and the sacrificial doves, classic symbols of innocence.
Stella blends the halves of the work in three significant ways. The two putti gathered around the manger connect the worlds of heavenly bliss and earthly suffering. In addition, the sightline of the front dove-bearer looks heavenward past the basket, connecting the sacrificial doves to the now-redeemed children. The mountain seen on the right also connects the two worlds. Surely here is Mt. Moriah, where Abraham was to sacrifice Isaac, the innocent child of promise, but was stopped by God who provided “himself a lamb” (Genesis 22:8); and where the Lamb of God would sacrifice Himself, the innocent dying for the guilty, to make heaven possible for fallen mankind.
Jacques Stella, like his friend Nicolas Poussin, tells more than the Christmas story: there is none innocent enough for heaven without the redeeming death of the sinless Son of God. It’s not what you know, it’s Who.
Karen Rowe Jones, M&G Board Member
Footnotes:
1David Steel Jr., Baroque Paintings from the Bob Jones University Collection, Exhibition catalogue (Raleigh: North Carolina Museum of Art, 1984), 22.
2De Grazia, Diane. “Poussin’s ‘Holy Family on the Steps’ in Context.” Cleveland Studies in the History of Art 4 (1999): 26–63.
Published 2021
Moscow School
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M&G at BOB JONES UNIVERSITY; 1700 Wade Hampton Blvd - Greenville, SC 29614
