The Complete Interactive Vermeer Catalogue

The background "picture-within-a-picture"

As the expert of Dutch art Wayne Franits observed, in Vermeer's paintings men "enter domestic genre scenes only as guests; or they are defined as the "absent presence" through such signs as a male portrait on the wall or a man's cloak thrown over a chair." Vermeer expert Arthur K. Wheelock Jr. posited that the deliberate positioning of the upright ancestral portrait between the two male figures emphasizes the artist's concerns about the diminishing moral restraint in the present era. Pieter Roelofs astutely observed that "knowing that Vermeer often featured paintings owned by his family in his canvases a large-scale painting of a Cupid and a Procuress by Dirck can Baburen, it is conceivable that the portrait of the man in 1630s attire in the background of The Girl with a Wine Glass was based on one of the family portraits in the hall. Based on the man's attire, it likely dates back to the 1630s. The stern pose and grave treatment of this section underscore its pronounced cautionary presence. This instance marked the sole occasion Vermeer incorporated a picture within another in his compositions that depicted a formal portrait.

During the Golden Age of Dutch art, the practice of embedding pictures-within-pictures, or "inset paintings," into genre scenes became a notable trend. One of the most salient reasons artists employed this technique was to convey moral or symbolic messages. A pictures-within-picture could serve as a nuanced counterpoint, enhancing or commenting on the primary scene to spotlight virtues, vices or societal reflections.

Furthermore, this technique allowed artists to engage in a form of visual conversation with their peers. By referencing known artworks or mimicking distinct styles within their compositions, they were not only acknowledging broader artistic discussions but also showcasing their vast knowledge and ability to navigate various techniques. It was also, undoubtedly, a method for artists to flaunt their technical acumen. Reproducing varied styles or subjects within one canvas demonstrated their versatility and command over their craft.

Who is the figure seated behind the table?

The brooding figure seated behind the table presents a challenge in interpretation, standing as one of the few overtly negative figures in the artist's body of work. The young man's despondent posture and the penumbra that envelops him have led critics to surmise that he might be suffering the pangs of unrequited love or is perhaps intoxicated. Art historian Rodney Nevitt Jr., in fact, posits that the man could be under the influence of the tobacco (as indicated by the rolled paper on the table), wine (evident from the ceramic pitcher), or he might be a jilted lover overshadowed by a rival. His demeanor and posture echo those of the girl in Vermeer's earlier painting, A Maid Asleep. Such postures were often linked to melancholia during the 17th century—a condition related to depression, introspective contemplation, artistic endeavor and forlorn romantic pursuits.

Whatever this figure's role, similarly-posed men can be found in other Dutch genre paintings of the time, such as Jan Steen's apparently benign Lute Player. The gentleman who listens to the well-dressed musician strikes a very similar pose, albeit mirrored. However, the context of the pictures gives rise to much speculation.

The Lute Player (and detail)
Jan Steen
c. 1656–1666
Oil on oak panel, 55.5 x 43.5 cm.
Enschede, Rijksmuseum Twenthe

Of course, the woman with the lute in the foreground is the key figure. But the more sketchily painted figures in the background provide further evidence of what is happening in the room. The man at the table stares into the distance, his head leaning on his left hand, while his glass is being refilled. Is he simply "intoxicated" by the charms of the young musician or her lovely melodies? Perhaps, but we might be observing a man with a broken heart seeking consolation from the sounds of the lute. In 17th-century painting, music is often represented as a remedy for a broken heart. On the other hand, the scene could also be interpretated as a brothel scene. The picture-within-a-picture with the naked putti hidden on the background wall and the woman pouring wine suggests this interpretation. The older woman, then, assumes the role of a matchmaker, mediating between the prostitute and her client.

Woman Drinking and Man
Asleep at a Table
Gerrit ter Borch
1658–1659
Oil on canvas, 39 × 34.5 cm
Private collection

At the time tobacco was believed to be just as intoxicating as alcohol. In tavern scenes, such a slumbering figure traditionally plays the role of a drunkard sleeping off his hangover amid partying revellers. In tavern scenes, such a slumbering figure traditionally plays the role of a drunkard sleeping off his hangover amid partying revellers. Gerrit ter Borch first painted this type of dozing man in the company of an elegant damsel sipping wine.

The white wine jug

Vermeer displayed a particular affinity for this type of lead-tin glazed wine jug, as evidenced by its prominent placement in three other paintings: A Maid Asleep, The Glass of Wine and The Music Lesson. Starting in the 1550s, these jugs gained international appeal, making their way across Europe. By the latter part of the 16th century and the early 17th century, they had become a sought-after item in the Netherlands. Dutch potters, recognizing their popularity, began producing their renditions. From 1650 to 1670, they became a recurring motif in genre interior paintings. Differentiating between the Italian originals and the Dutch imitations is challenging. However, Alexandra Gaba-van Dongen, a historian specializing in Dutch decorative arts, posits that the jugs featured in Vermeer's compositions are of Italian origin.

These containers trace their origins back to the Near and Middle East, where tin-glazing was first developed. The technique migrated to Italy by the Renaissance, where it was refined and popularized. The city of Faenza in Italy became especially renowned for producing these white-glazed ceramics, and the term "faience" is derived from this city's name. The Netherlands began producing its own version of these tin-glazed ceramics in the city of Delft, which became the most significant center for this art in northern Europe.

Tin-glazing is a pottery technique where a lead glaze, rendered opaque white by the addition of tin, is applied to a shaped clay body. This white glaze acts as an ideal canvas for painted decoration, which is often applied before a second firing in the kiln.

The white cloth on the table

No attempt has ever been made to decipher the iconographic significance, if there is any, of the oversized white cloth draped from the table. It might have been incorporated purely for its visual appeal or, more prosaically, to address a proportion discrepancy between the seated and standing figures. Art historian John Nash observed that the woman's proportion to her chair seems somewhat unusual. Based on the perspective provided by the floor tiles, she seems to be positioned slightly forward from the table. Yet, the gentleman leaning over her to offer a glass of wine appears to be standing just past the white tablecloth. Compositionally, this element effectively links the girl, the suitor and the seated man in the background, enhancing the painting's vibrant color scheme.

A particularly notable aspect of this piece is the bluish hue of the shadows, achieved using the pigment natural ultramarine blue—a rarity in Dutch paintings of that period. In this composition, Vermeer also utilized ultramarine blue in the gray tones of the background wall, the wine jug's shadow, the blue tablecloth and even in the deeper shadow of the girl's red satin gown. The liberal use of natural ultramarine blue is somewhat atypical for Vermeer's usual technique. Many of his contemporaries typically favored azurite, a less expensive yet less vibrant alternative to the imported ultramarine.

The smiling young girl

The candid expression on the young woman's face diverges from Vermeer's typical approach, where he often communicates his subjects' emotions through subtle gestures, their harmonious interaction with their surroundings, and their engaged activities. An early Vermeer scholar speculated that her intense gaze and peculiar smile might be due to overpaintings by a subsequent artist. The depiction of such a broad smile revealing the teeth was unusual in the 17th century and would have evoked associations with inappropriate behaviour. Notably, instead of engaging with her suitor, Vermeer's subject turns toward the viewer, distancing herself from him. Arthur K. Wheelock Jr. posits that her smile suggests cognizance, implying she not only understands the current situation but also maintains control over it. In this context, it is the man, rather than the woman, who appears to be the one seduced. Such a narrative, where a man is captivated by a woman adorned in luxurious attire only to face betrayal or rejection, was a popular theme among 17th-century poets. They often drew inspiration from the sonnets of Petrarch, which explored the concept of unrequited love.

Conversely, some critics interpret the girl as a more passive figure in this romantic play. Walter Liedtke suggests, "What she manages is not her suitor but her fluctuating emotions. One might assume this naive young lady is far less adept at repelling advances than the composed woman in The Glass of Wine."

The unobtrusive still life

An art writer once remarked that while Vermeer never crafted a dedicated still life, the elements of still life integrated into his interior scenes rank among the finest ever rendered. The depicted fruit has alternately been identified as a lemon or an orange. Both frequently appeared in Dutch still lifes, but each bore its distinct symbolic connotation.

Lemons often accompany oysters in many ritualistic courtship scenes. In an artwork by Frans van Mieris, a young gentleman presents a lavish silver plate brimming with shucked oysters to a woman clutching a partially filled wine glass. To a 17th-century Dutch observer, the intent of Van Mieris' tableau would be evident. Given the widespread belief in oysters' aphrodisiacal properties, they were commonly linked to themes of seduction. Notably, Vermeer's composition lacks any visible oysters. Yet, their absence doesn't negate the possibility that they might have been consumed earlier. If they had, the protagonists' contrasting reactions suggest the oysters may have influenced the suitor more than the maiden.

The wine jug and glass's symbolic essence seem to underscore the painting's subtext of a ceremonious, albeit evident, seduction attempt. Yet, lemons also played a role in enhancing and balancing the taste of wine, symbolizing the importance of moderation. This interpretation contrasts with the seductive undertone. Moreover, the renowned pointillés, or luminescent dots—which some experts argue indicate Vermeer's use of a camera obscura as a painting aid—are evident on the silver tray.

The Netherlands, with its expansive coastline, has had a long history of seafood consumption. Oysters, being abundant in the estuaries and coastal waters, became a staple in the diet of both the wealthy and the common man. They were easily accessible and were consumed fresh. This reality was depicted in numerous paintings where oysters are portrayed as part of lavish feasts or simple meals. While oysters were consumed by all classes, in paintings, they often symbolized luxury, affluence and the good life—especially when depicted alongside other luxury items like fine wines or exotic fruits.

Mid-17th-century courtship

Vermeer's painting belongs to a genre of domestic scenes prevalent in mid-17th-century Holland in which the mores of contemporary life, particularly those pertaining to love and courtship, were depicted and commented upon. Many of these themes focus on the foibles of male/female relationships and man's inability to restrain his sexual appetite, even though the narrative of Vermeer's paintings are so subtly contrived as to pose serious questions of interpretation. The young suitor, draped in an elegant cape, carefully accompanies the woman's hand which delicately holds the tip of a half-full wineglass.

His intentions have been interpreted in a number of ways by Vermeer specialists, from comic monsieur, seducer or seduced. Perhaps the story being told was far more evident to the artist's contemporaries than it appears today. But in last analysis, his (and her) posture and expression are so highly formalized that they fail to furnish an unequivocal key to unlock the precise narrative meaning of the painting.

The red tabbaard

While Vermeer's body of work is celebrated for its harmonious blend of lemon-yellow and blue, the young artist dabbled with intense reds in the early stages of his career. The vivid red of the dress might suggest the concealed passions of the young woman who appears to welcome the gentleman's attention. Dutch costume authority, Marieke de Winkel, identifies the young woman's attire as a tabbaard or tabbert, typically reserved for formal events. This ensemble consists of a stiff, snug-fitting bodice laced at the back and a complementary long gown. To provide additional structure to the bodice, a rigid plank of ivory, wood, or even iron was sometimes incorporated. Given its constricting nature, the tabbaard would understandably be uncomfortable, making it less suitable for expectant mothers. Catharina Bolnes, Vermeer's spouse, possessed a similar gown crafted from black fabric, likely intended for mourning.

The stained-glass window

One of the most remarkable features of the painting is the colored stained-glass window, also depicted in The Glass of Wine in Berlin. The coat of arms is associated with Janetge Jacobsdr. Vogel, the first wife of Moses van Nederveen. Yet, how Vermeer obtained this emblem remains unclear. Vogel and her husband resided in Delft, relatively close to Vermeer. However, she passed away in 1624, eight years before the artist's birth.

According to traditional interpretation, the symbolism of the coat of arms is transparent and would have been easily comprehended in Vermeer's time. The female figure, holding a level and bridle, represents Temperantia or Temperance. This image bears a striking resemblance to a depiction in Gabriel Rollenhagen's Selectorum Emblematum from 1613. Accompanying Rollenhagen's illustration is the text: "The heart knows not how to observe moderation and applies reins to feelings when struck by desire." The level represents righteous actions, while the bridle signifies emotional restraint. It's likely that, paired with the solemn portrait on the opposite wall, this emblem served as a reminder of moderation—a cautionary note highlighting the central figures' apparent lack of discipline.

However, this interpretation has faced recent scrutiny from Dutch art expert Ariane van Suchtele and Huib J. Zuidervaart. Van Suchtele proposes that earlier observers misinterpreted the standing figure as embodying Temperance, assuming the item in her hand was a rein—a typical symbol of this cardinal virtue. In contrast, the woman in the window's central section holds not a rein, but the ornate straps of a coat of arms. The vibrant window bearing the elaborate family crest implies a lineage of sophistication, a trait seemingly at odds with the depicted youths.

Zuidervaart, instead, offers another theory suggesting that Vermeer's paintings The Glass of Wine and The Glass of Wine were commissioned as wedding gifts for the grandchildren of Moijses van Nederveen and Janetge de Vogel. Although there is no direct archival evidence supporting this theory, historical facts do not contradict it. The dating of the paintings aligns with the proposed scenario, and their origin and characteristics make sense within this context. The paintings feature a coat of arms, which can be explained in relation to the background of Vermeer's presumed client. Also that the presence of similar ceramic floor tiles in both paintings, differing from other Vermeer works, could be attributed to the mansion in front of the Nederveen-Van der Heul gunpowder factory, where the paintings might have been set up. This is further supported by the consistent lattice pattern in the window of the painting A Girl Interrupted in her Music, suggesting a thrid connection to the same location. Unlike the common belief that Vermeer's paintings were created in his studio, the author suggests that if Vermeer used optical equipment, it could be easily portable, similar to an optical projection device created by Johan van der Wyck in Delft in 1653.

Such variances in understanding Vermeer's ostensibly clear paintings remind us that, despite extensive research, the meanings behind Vermeer's pieces remain elusive. Subtle shifts in tone and significance remain subjects for further scrutiny.

In an case, in the 17th century, a stained-glass window such as the one in the present work would have been cosidered a luxury item, affordable only for the select few. Color was achieved by adding various metallic compounds to the glass mixture. Copper oxides produced a bluish-green hue, cobalt resulted in blue, gold chloride yielded red or pink, and manganese could either create a purple shade or decolorize the glass. Once the pieces of glass were cut, they were then assembled into a design using strips of lead, known as "cames". The cames were flexible and could be bent around the edges of the glass pieces, holding them together. Finally, the entire assembly was soldered at the joints for stability.

The ceramic floor tiles

Willemijn Fock, a historian specializing in Dutch decorative arts, has demonstrated the implausibility of the notion that the distinctive black and white marble floors frequently depicted in Vermeer's paintings and other Dutch interior scenes were captured directly from reality. These opulent floor designs were a hallmark of affluence and were only found in the residences of the wealthy elite—beyond Vermeer's financial means.

In contrast, the type of small ceramic tiles seen in the present artwork was a more commonplace feature, despite the Dutch population's general preference for practical, wide-planked wooden floors. Philip Steadman, an architect and Vermeer expert from London, points out that the intricate details of the cracks and imperfections in the foreground tiles suggest Vermeer's direct observation. By employing a process of reverse geometry, Steadman computed that these ceramic tiles are precisely half the size of the larger black and white marble tiles seen in subsequent artworks. This finding led him to posit that Vermeer could have used an underlying geometrical grid derived from real tiles to project the illusion of the luxurious marble patterns—patterns he had likely never directly encountered.

Within this painting, Vermeer depicts relatively economical ceramic tiles, which were of a smaller size and significantly more prevalent compared to the grand black and white marble floors that would recurrently grace his interior compositions. Upon close scrutiny, subtle irregularities and chips become evident—quaint narrative details that would be eradicated in Vermeer's later creations. Ceramic tiles offered the advantage of being significantly more affordable than marble tiles, yet they came with the drawback of being relatively susceptible to chipping, as evidenced by some of the tiles within this painting.

During the 17th century in the Netherlands, crafting ceramic tiles for flooring was an artistry that blended practicality with decoration. This multistep process began with clay selection and preparation, combining different clay types for durability and color stability. Shaping the clay into uniform tiles followed, achieved through hand-molding, molding with intricate designs, or extrusion. Decorative techniques included impressing patterns, using liquid clay for contrasting hues and employing stencils to create geometric or nature-inspired designs.

After thorough drying to prevent cracking, firing took place in kilns, turning the clay into robust material. Glazing, an optional step, provided a glossy finish and protection from wear and fading. Tiles were then arranged to form intereting patterns on the floor. Installation involved embedding the tiles in mortar or adhesive with precise alignment.

The ceramic floor tiles

Willemijn Fock, a historian specializing in Dutch decorative arts, has demonstrated the implausibility of the notion that the distinctive black and white marble floors frequently depicted in Vermeer's paintings and other Dutch interior scenes were captured directly from reality. These opulent floor designs were a hallmark of affluence and were only found in the residences of the wealthy elite—beyond Vermeer's financial means.

In contrast, the type of small ceramic tiles seen in the present artwork was a more commonplace feature, despite the Dutch population's general preference for practical, wide-planked wooden floors. Philip Steadman, an architect and Vermeer expert from London, points out that the intricate details of the cracks and imperfections in the foreground tiles suggest Vermeer's direct observation. By employing a process of reverse geometry, Steadman computed that these ceramic tiles are precisely half the size of the larger black and white marble tiles seen in subsequent artworks. This finding led him to posit that Vermeer could have used an underlying geometrical grid derived from real tiles to project the illusion of the luxurious marble patterns—patterns he had likely never directly encountered.

Within this painting, Vermeer depicts relatively economical ceramic tiles, which were of a smaller size and significantly more prevalent compared to the grand black and white marble floors that would recurrently grace his interior compositions. Upon close scrutiny, subtle irregularities and chips become evident—quaint narrative details that would be eradicated in Vermeer's later creations. Ceramic tiles offered the advantage of being significantly more affordable than marble tiles, yet they came with the drawback of being relatively susceptible to chipping, as evidenced by some of the tiles within this painting.

During the 17th century in the Netherlands, crafting ceramic tiles for flooring was an artistry that blended practicality with decoration. This multistep process began with clay selection and preparation, combining different clay types for durability and color stability. Shaping the clay into uniform tiles followed, achieved through hand-molding, molding with intricate designs, or extrusion. Decorative techniques included impressing patterns, using liquid clay for contrasting hues and employing stencils to create geometric or nature-inspired designs.

After thorough drying to prevent cracking, firing took place in kilns, turning the clay into robust material. Glazing, an optional step, provided a glossy finish and protection from wear and fading. Tiles were then arranged to form intereting patterns on the floor. Installation involved embedding the tiles in mortar or adhesive with precise alignment.

The white-washed wall

The white-washed walls, a recurring element in Dutch interior genre painting, often go unnoticed due to their familiarity.

Interior with a Merry Company
Joost Cornelisz. Droochsloot
1645 Oil on canvas, 98.5 x 127.9 cm.
Centraal Museum, Utrecht

From a technical standpoint, their portrayal poses one of the most intricate challenges in achieving pictorial illusion. A strategic adjustment of tone and hue becomes necessary to capture the diverse play of light upon the surface. Typically, painters followed a conventional formula, employing pure white or nearly pure white pigments for the brightest sections of the wall. The nuanced shadow gradients were attained through the addition of black and raw umber (a somewhat greenish-brown pigment), which proved to be among the most indispensable colors on the artist's palette.

Vermeer consistently adhered to these three pigments when rendering plain walls, occasionally introducing a minute quantity of ultramarine blue to impart a livelier and cleaner shade of gray. In this particular artwork, ultramarine blue has indeed been identified alongside white and raw umber. This infusion of blue bestows upon the gray a distinctly greenish tinge that interacts dynamically with the vivid red expanse of the satin attire. It is conceivable that Vermeer borrowed this technique from Carel Fabritius, who was known to have enriched the light gray backdrop of his renowned work The Goldfinch with ultramarine blue.

The blue tablecloth & table

The cool blue tablecloth, which covers a finely crafted table with ornately shaped legs, provides a soothing aesthetic effect. The table's dimensions also offer a sense of scale. If one compares the height of the table to that of the foreground gentleman, one would imagine that both he and the seated figure must be somewhat closer to the viewer, distant from the table. And yet, the gentleman's draping olive-green cloak falls behind the white tablecloth, in line with the front side of the table, whereas it should be in front of it. This is perhaps one of the few errors in Vermeer's paintings that, once seen, cannot be unseen.