My Renaissance Detour through Delft

Often in life as in travel, detours are required. The same can be said for a learning journey where a temporary deviation might allow one to better understand a topic or an idea.

Readers of The Renaissance Blueprint are familiar with the essence and main topic of the site - it is, first and foremost, about the Renaissance. Florence, Rome and Venice are still the places I find myself returning to, and the artists, thinkers and patrons of the period continue to shape the way I look at art. But one of the pleasures of becoming increasingly interested in art is discovering that curiosity doesn't respect chronological boundaries. As a result, occasionally, I might step outside the period to explore a book, artist or idea that I think will be of interest to anyone curious about art.

I have always enjoyed the work of Joannes Vermeer (1632-1675) the Dutch painter born in Delft. His portrayal of domestic scenes are infused with tranquility, serenity and intimacy. He depicts moments of contemplation that have a calming effect on anyone who views his paintings. The coziness of the small spaces he depicts augment this sense of inward reflection. 

There is something about his paintings that makes me stop. These quiet interiors, the extraordinary use of light, the almost unnerving stillness of his figures. Nothing much seems to be happening and yet somehow everything is happening - there is a palpable, almost mysterious sentiment that the images are expressing much more than what appears to be a banality of everyday life. A woman reading a letter, a figure standing beside a window, a moment captured in an otherwise ordinary room: Vermeer makes these small, private scenes feel strangely important and reflective of our own deep realities.

To better understand Vermeer, I have turned to Andrew Graham-Dixon one of Britain’s best-known art historians and writers, whose work has brought art history to a wide audience through books, journalism and BBC television series. Some of Graham-Dixon’s books are in the Reading Room section of The Renaissance Blueprint. What I particularly enjoy about his writing is that he doesn't simply tell me what I am looking at. He makes me want to understand what lies behind it. Who was the artist? What was happening in their world? What might have motivated them? Who commissioned the work? What were they trying to achieve? And perhaps most importantly, what can we see in the painting once we understand some of that story? In the case of Vermeer, these questions are all the more important.

That is one of the reasons I find art history so compelling. A painting that initially seems simply beautiful can become something much richer once you know the story behind it.

So when Graham-Dixon turns his attention to Vermeer, as he does in his most recent book Vermeer - A Life Lost and Found, I was more than happy to leave Florence behind for a while and take a detour to Delft.

And perhaps that is not such a detour after all.

Because the more I explore art, the more convinced I am that understanding a painting is rarely just about looking at the painting itself. It is about following the threads that lead away from it - into the life of the artist, the society in which they lived, the people who commissioned their work and the ideas that shaped their world.

That is true of Vermeer.

And it is certainly true of the Renaissance.