Audio Stop 510

John Hand:
This astonishing painting of The Annunciation by the Netherlandish master Jan van Eyck is probably one-third of a triptych, or three-paneled altarpiece. It depicts that crucial episode in Christianity when the angel Gabriel tells the Virgin Mary that she will bear the Christ Child, and the Holy Ghost descends to her in the form of a dove. She is filled with God’s grace and Christ begins his human existence. Gabriel’s greeting, “Hail, full of grace,” – from the Gospel of Luke—appears beside him. The Virgin responds “Behold, the handmaiden of the Lord”—the gold inscription written upside-down, so God can read it from above.

Van Eyck’s vision of this magnificent smiling angel in his elaborate bejeweled robes sets off the simplicity and purity of the Virgin. What makes it all work is the artist’s astonishing ability to create in oil paint objects that look absolutely real – from the petals of a lily to the wings of an angel, the crystal of a scepter or the rich damask of the cushion in the foreground. The effects of woven gold in Gabriel’s robe are not accomplished by gilding, but conjured from tiny touches of yellow paint crisscrossed with miniscule lines of black. We are convinced we could feel the raised nap of the luxurious cut velvet.

If the artist’s virtuosity seems astounding today in our world of high-tech images, to a 15th-century worshipper, who had never even seen a photograph, it must have appeared a true miracle.

The painting is equally impressive intellectually – a work of staggering complexity, erudition, and density of thought in which virtually every element is rich with symbolism.

This work is featured in our microgallery off the rotunda. There, an interactive computer program allows you to examine tiny details blown up full screen, or study a diagram of Van Eyck’s perspective scheme, or see how the space would look without the figures in it.

DAVID BULL:
This was one of twenty-one paintings that Andrew Mellon bought from the Hermitage in Leningrad a few years after the Bolshevik Revolution. He gave it to the National Gallery when it opened in 1941. The Russians were aware of the ravages that their extremes of climate could cause to wooden panels such as Van Eyck’s. So they used a method for transferring panel paintings to canvas. The process is, of course, exceedingly delicate, and can be hazardous to the painting if not done well.

During the final stage of the transfer, canvas was ironed on the reverse of the paint, and the texture of the canvas became imprinted in the original smooth enamel-like surface.

That was one of the tragedies of this procedure. But it wasn’t the only one. You see, Van Eyck had built the initial form and structure of the Virgin’s robe by applying two layers of grey-blue oil paint. Then he used deep, rich blue ultramarine pigment glazes to describe the forms and shadows.

The truly appalling tragedy was that when the transfer was finished, and the protective facing washed off—away came all the ultramarine glazes, too. The figure of the Virgin Mary was left with the lighter grey/blue underpainting—becoming pale and rather amorphous, like a floating ghost. In contrast, the exquisite figure of the angel Gabriel was still astonishingly well preserved. The composition was totally unbalanced.

To restore the balance, I felt I had to recreate the blue glazes.

It's a very difficult decision to interfere with a masterpiece. In-painting small areas that are missing is one thing; to recreate a major element of the painting is something else entirely. Fortunately, with infrared reflectography, I could see the underdrawing, where Van Eyck had carefully delineated every fold and shadow of the cloth, so nothing had to be invented—otherwise, the restoration just wouldn't have been possible. The only difference between a conservator and a surgeon is that surgeons could bury their mistakes. The restoration took me months, and it was tricky, but there it is. Let me describe how the transfer was done: first, several layers of paper were glued to the face of the painting to protect it; it was then laid face down on a table, and the oak panel was carefully cut away with chisels and planes to reveal a white ground that Van Eyck had applied before he begun to paint. Then the ground was scraped away, possibly using a little moisture. Just layers of paint were left, lying facing down on the table. Next, a white lead adhesive was brushed on the back of the paint layers. The canvas was ironed onto the back of the painting by using heat and pressure to make it stick. Finally, the canvas was stretched over a wooden stretcher, and the protective layers washed away. 

John Hand:
Van Eyck's Annunciation is like James Joyce's Ulysses; almost everything in it can be interpreted as a symbol. Here the artist makes myriad parallels and contracts between the Old Testament and the New. The transition from the idea of a single god to a trinity: father, son, and holy ghost. It is most evident in the architecture of the church setting. The arches near the ceiling are rounded in the older Romanesque, or Roman-type style, while the lower arches are pointed, in the newer, Gothic manner. It's evident in the windows too; at the top, a single window displays a figure of the Lord, his feet on a globe. In contrast, behind the Virgin's head, are three windows, representing the Christian trinity. The symbolic program extends to the decoration of the floor. There, square scenes are interspersed with round medallions, showing the signs of the zodiac, indicating that God has dominion over all things in the physical universe, including the movement of the stars. Within the squares are Old Testament events, seen as prefiguring the New Testament. At the very bottom, for example, the young Hebrew David slays the giant Goliath, just as Christ vanquishes Satan.