The world of the arts and the artistic canon is historically masculine. No question. Gombrich, the “godfather of art history” wrote “The Story of Art” (a quasi-art history gospel) without mentioning one woman. Women, in art and society, are so often reduced to genius cursed by their gender like Tracey Emin, Frida Kahlo or Artemisia Gentileschi. Or silent muses like Lydia Délectorskaya the muse of Henri Matisse and traditional archetypes: virgin mothers, doting wives and Madonna whores. The women in this world of antiquity so often exist in the domestic sphere enchained by the patriarchy and they have gone unseen and unheard.
In amidst the storm of biblical images and the masculine world of the Renaissance, one painter from the city of Delft in the Netherlands emerges back in the 17th Century. Without the drive of the masculine ego or “making his mark on the world and his fortune in the process” behind him, he quietly diverges from this homogenised world in almost every was possible.
Enter, Johannes Vermeer.
Vermeer is one of the most venerated Dutch artists of all time, a national icon of the Netherlands. Yet his image endures as a rather mystical and enigmatic one. Countless galleries are inundated with Rembrandts’ and Rubens’ but only 37 Vermeer’s exist. Alone there are more Rembrandt’s self-portraits then entire oeuvre of Vermeer. He is only seen once in his work, his back turned away from us remaining anonymous. Or twice if one considers the portrayal of Vermeer in “Girl with the Pearl Earring” by Pride and Prejudice star and OG heart throb Colith Firth. There are no letters or diaries, no students or masters, merely his children and his paintings. Vermeer challenges this concept of these problematic and big-headed old masters like Caravaggio or Da Vinci and instead remains true to himself.
A trademark “Vermeer” consists of a small canvas that is transformed into a window, exquisite shading, colour, deep folds of fabric, immense detail and young women just existing. Everything in the painting feels precious and is visually articulated with such precision and craftmanship. Traditionally the work of this period, the 17th century, were these obscenely large grand pictures almost imposingly towering over us. Embellished with extravagant shows of wealth or religious devotion.
Vermeer was a master of the intimate, amplified by his use of small-scale. His works become mini worlds into a corner of a room, absorbing and relishing in just a singular moment. His glorious vision is shared with us and we are invited in. It is an invitation of the ordinary, masterfully elevated to the marvellous. Our presence with these women, oblivious of their observance and unaware of being seen, feels like a kind of privilege. We encounter them indulged in their solitude, absorbed in their occupations, in “A Room of ones own”.
Vermeer diverges from the sexually pervasive heterosexual male gaze of the art world. Think: Virgin Suicides, Quentin Tarantino, Zach Snyder Justice League Cut, Cassie Howard and the Birth of Venus. Women in media are non-consensually and voyeuristically perverted but Vermeer doesn’t engage in this. He leaves these girls be and simply go on: making lace, pouring milk or reading a letter.
Vermeer also used new methods to create his own style. He didn’t use harsh lines in the face just shadows. Vermeer’s women are bathed in light and shadow, he is a master of this. Da Vinci said one could just use black for shadows but Vermeer uses colour in his shadows. Take that Da Vinci. A particular pigment called, green earth, near the eye and in the base of the flesh tones. Vermeer is the only painter to do this, it is unique to him. He is the king of shadows.
It is heavily theorised that Vermeer gained such an astute understanding of shadows through embracing emerging technology, the camera obscura. His neighbough’s back in Delft were the Jesuits. The Catholics living next door made the Protestant-raised Vermeer see the light. Literally. Supposedly (TW Art history conspiracy theory incoming), upon the neighbour’s death in 1656 Vermeer MAY have acquired his camera obscura and in his works from this year characteristics of camera projections begin to emerge. The Optical instrument can be simply explained as: a ray of light passing through a small hole or a lens into a darkened room and projects an image of the outside world onto a bright surface inside. The picture produced is upside down and left-right reversed unless a second lens is placed where the light enters.
Vermeer may have just used this device to simply observe the world around him. Seeing light and shadows from new perspectives. This may have aided him in his innovation of artistic expression, never before seen.
While writing this, I looked over to my left and saw a little rabbit looking at me, sporting a little blue dress in the Vermeer blue we have come to know and love.
Enter, Miffy.
Miffy like Vermeer was “born” in the Netherlands, created in 1955 by graphic designer, Dick Bruna. Bruna, fused stories he told to his children with geometric papercutting techniques of Matisse and Mondrian. The result of this artistic fusion is a perfected and newfound expressive minimalism. She is called Nijite in Dutch or Miffy in English.
Like Vermeer, there is very little information available on Bruna. They are both these understated genius figures, resistant to the mainstream and demands of capitalism. They do what they love. With the simplicity of Miffy’s design Bruna can convey the slightest change in emotion through the two dots and cross for her eyes and mouth. His work is so evocative of the subtlety of emotion like Vermeer, there is a kind of magic. Both have made a career of stripping characters down to their very essence.
Although on the surface, Vermeer and Bruna are from different generations and from polar opposites of the art genres. One being a “high art” grand master and another childhood graphic design storybooks. Perplexingly Vermeer and Bruna have these strange time defying connections.
Both were captivated by small, intimate stories, focusing on a single activity, often taking place in and around the home. They share a fondness for the colour blue, such a particular shade that even now writing this the very tone and hue springs into mind. The connection I love the most between Vermeer and Bruna is the expression of girlhood.
These girls are left to simply exist. On the page, in the canvas, in the corner of the room. No nudity, no abuse and no sexualisation. They unassumingly are there.
I must admit to you now, I am filled with a sense of sadness even having to express delight at a young women being shown in such a simple way but I know these girls. I know how it feels to sit, get dressed and put on my jewellery piece by piece like amour or go to a gallery and revel in such a childhood feeling of joy often disparaged by society, shown by Miffy through the two dots and cross of her face.
Both Vermeer and Bruna through their lives and artistic careers fused new concepts and techniques in each of their retrospective works. But the messages intertwined in their work, becomes even more potent when fused together. I think they are artistic soulmates, defying time and mortality. They live on through their work and acknowledge the experience of girlhood so often forgotten, but not by them and not by me.
Swan Soul Stories 
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