Did Vermeer use optical aids, like a camera obscura, in crafting his wonderful paintings: yes or no?
That is the question being asked here. This is a technical question, only, it adds or detracts nothing in Vermeer's ouvre and career either way. It's and interesting question though, and even an important one. What choices did Vermeer make in achieving greatness?
Steadman convincingly argues that Vermeer very likely used a camera obscura, in one form or another, in creating many of his paintings. This work starts with a thorough discussion of the inconclusive written records. Vermeer was certainly contemporary to people like van Leeuwenhoek, who pioneered microscopy, even lived in the same city at the same time. He had long exposure to trades where lenses were used regularly, and lived in a time when lenses were available commercially. All that is circumstantial and, unlike other authors, Steadman declines to read more into available facts than they said in the first place.
His real contribution is in his detailed analyses of Vermeer's paintings and their geometries, and in actual reconstructions of the rooms Vermeer portrayed and tools he might have used. This is the scientific method at work: present a falsifiable hypothesis, and create an experiment that confirms or denies it. "Is shadow in 'The Music Lesson' a credible, literal rendering of an actual scene?" His experiments from the late 80s, rebuilding rooms that match Vermeer's says "Yes." This is a delightful contrast to armchair guesswork by others, such as Wheelock, who never really checked but thought the shadows looked false.
This is a worthwhile historical and technical achievement, partially funded by the BBC for a TV special in 1989. It also stands in clear contrast to Hockney's later work on much the same question, "Secret Knowledge." Hockney asked, as an artist, do these tools give me the experience captured in the old masters' art? His answer, achieved by personal immersion, was also "Yes." I respect Steadman's rigor as a historian and experimentalist, but this work comes off a bit dry compared to Hockney's first-person report.
It's an interesting book on an artist about whom maddeningly little is known. It's thorough, and gives future art historians a very high bar to clear. If not for the hands-on liveliness of Hockney's book, I might have ranked this one even higher.
//wiredweird
