The Complete Interactive Vermeer Catalogue

The ebony framed mirror

In the ebony-framed mirror, we catch a glimpse of the young girl's face turned slightly to the right, a bit more than one would expect judging by the head of the musician. But the mirror, a technical tour de force that must have been admired by Vermeer's fellow painters, also reveals that a third person was present. On close inspection, we can see part of the foreground carpet and a few floor tiles. With some difficulty, it is also possible to make out the crossbar and a leg of the artist's easel (see the same easel represented in Vermeer's Art of Painting). Thus, with the introduction of the easel, the figure of the artist also takes part in the painting's narrative scheme, reminding the spectator of the intellect that went into the painting's creation.

Mirrors had many meanings in European painting. They could symbolize truth or vanity. In Vermeer's time, the mirror also held strong ties to the art of painting. In his treatise on the art of painting, the painter and art theoretician Samuel van Hoogstraten wrote, "A perfect painting is like a mirror of Nature, in which things that aren't there appear to be there, and which deceives in an acceptable, amusing and praiseworthy fashion." Van Hoogstraten touched upon a lasting dilemma that Vermeer must have felt deeply when he painted: the more the painted image seems real, the more it is deceptive and therefore, potentially morally questionable.

Some critics have drawn a spiritual parallel to the mirror in Las Meninas by Velázquez, even though the two esteemed Baroque artists were unfamiliar with each other's works.

One such ebony-framed mirror was mentioned as being in the front room of Vermeer's house in the inventory of movable items made shortly after his passing.

More about the virginal

The virginal, also referred to as "virginals" in singular form, is a box-shaped keyboard instrument. In contrast, the more familiar harpsichord resembles a piano with its triangular shape. When closed, the typical Flemish virginal resembles an elongated linen closet. Once opened, its visual impact is remarkable. The keyboard is frequently surrounded by intricate block-printed papers. These papers adorn the front of the case, line the inside of the fallboard, and cover the case above the soundboard and the interior of the lid. Mottoes, such as the one observed on the lid of The Music Lesson, were common decorations. Many of these instruments were designed without legs and were set on a table for use. Later versions came with their own stands, akin to the one seen in The Music Lesson.

It is interesting, that Vermeer not only portrays one of the most expensive musical instruments available but that it was as much as 60 or more years old at the time he painted it. Vermeer must have been aware of its value as he transported it to his studio. We can be reasonably certain that Vermeer could not have afforded to own such an instrument himself. It is also incredibly interesting to to see a Ruckers instrument in a relatively new state even if at 60 years old it might have seemed quite antique to Vermeer.

The lining paper on the keywell of Vermeer's instrument, adorned with flowers, foliage and sea-horses (see facsimile above), is also found on instruments depicted by Metsu (A Man and a Woman Seated by a Virginal) and Steen (A Young Woman Playing a Harpsichord) at the National Gallery in London.

Music composed for the virginal was characterized by rhythmic measures, with timing nuances meticulously thought out and delivered. Lyrics that often paired with the music discussed human and spiritual love and the solace one can derive from it.

While many authors have highlighted that a virginal was viewed as a luxury during that period, Walter Liedtke notes that virginals appear more often in household inventories than generally believed. For instance, two Ruckers virginals were in the possession of the Delft organist Dirck Scholl in the 1660s.

Dirck Scholl

However, it's not unexpected that no keyboard instruments were listed in Vermeer's death inventory of 1676. Dutch music specialist Edwin Buijsen posits that these could have been located in the residence of music enthusiast Cornelis Graswinckel, related by matrimony to Vermeer's patron Pieter van Ruijven. It's also conceivable that Vermeer might have ventured to nearby The Hague to appreciate the renowned collection of musical tools owned by Constantijn Huygens. It's likely he borrowed such tools from his patrons or affluent art enthusiasts he knew.

Regardless of where Vermeer might have encountered the virginal, it's undeniable that it originated from the workshop of the Ruckers family, who led the Antwerp production of keyboard instruments from the end of the 16th century to the mid-17th century. Their devices were sought-after across Europe, with some even reaching South America.

Laboratory assessments reveal that Vermeer modified the virginal's lid shape to enhance the painting's layout. The lid is somewhat broader to the girl's right than her left, a positioning change that diminishes the visual link between the two halves of the lid design through the girl.

The decorative papers on nthe virginals

It has been proven that the virginals in the present work were manufactured by the renowned Ruckers family of Antwerp. The Ruckers family's approach to clavecimbel construction occupies an unparalleled position in organology. Their influence on subsequent harpsichord and virginal designs spread throughout Northern Europe during the 18th century. Some elements of the Ruckers' designs even had an impact on the structure of the contemporary piano. The exquisite sound quality of Ruckers instruments, due to their superior design and meticulous construction of soundboards and bridges, won acclaim by the late 17th century and continued to be celebrated throughout the 18th century. The Ruckers family's contribution to clavecimbel craftsmanship is comparable to Stradivarius's legacy in violin making. Just as Stradivarius violins underwent modifications to meet evolving musical trends and demands, Ruckers clavecimbels were similarly adapted over time.

Many Ruckers instruments were adorned with a combination block-printed papers dreived from pattern books glued on to the inside of the lid, on the keywell (the area surrounding the keys) and occasionally on the case exterior. Some of these patterns echoed textile designs of the period and arabesques while others displayed stylized foliage or other motifs.

A particularly intriguing pattern used by the Ruckers family is the imitation wood-grain pattern found on the lid of the present work, which showcases a clever edge symmetry, centered along the long axis of the paper. When the papers are affixed by rotating each successive piece 180 degress relative to the preceding one, the wood-graining aligns perfectly at the joint between the two papers. The top and bottom of these papers are also ingeniously crafted such that, when one is placed directly over another, the wood-grain pattern of one seamlessly transitions to the next. This creates a repetition cycle so expansive that it easily tricks the eye into believing that the wood-grain pattern, much like that of natural wood, doesn't repeat at all.

Interestingly, the right-hand side of the virginals lid is in this work is depicted in a somewhat different manner than the left. The background colors and the veins of the faux finish are, in essence, inverted.

Cimon and Pero: a Roman Charity in the background

Cimon and Pero (Roman Charity)
Workshop of Dirck van Baburen
1618–1624
Oil on canvas

Like other Dutch genre artists of the time, Vermeer employed background images in his painted mise-en-scène, much as modern stage directors use reproductions, photographs, posters and furniture to define an environment, evoke a mood or provide ironic commentary on a scene. Art historian Gregor Weber identified this picture as originating from the workshop of Dirck van Baburen. Maria Thins, Vermeer's mother-in-law (with whom he and his wife lived until their deaths), already owned a similar work in Gouda. This piece later appeared in the inventory compiled during her legal separation from her husband.

In his depiction, Vermeer shows approximately two-fifths of this "Roman Charity," mainly highlighting the back of Cimon's head and his chained arms. The Roman Charity (or "Carità Romana") tells the notable story of a daughter named Pero, who covertly breastfeeds her father, Cimon, after he's imprisoned and condemned to death by starvation. When a jailer discovers her actions, her act of altruism impresses the officials, leading to her father's release.

How does this image correlate with the two 17th-century Dutchmen engrossed in their music? As John Michael Montias observed, the picture on the wall suggests, by prominently displaying only Cimon in chains, that Vermeer's gentleman is metaphorically shackled, reminiscent of Cimon's literal restraints. This analogy can be further extrapolated: both milk and music, in their unique ways, alleviate the torments of confinement.

An imported carpet

Giovanni della Volta with his Wife and Children (detail)
Lorenzo Lotto
c. 1547
Oil on canvas, 104.5 x 138 cm.
National Gallery, London

By the 13th century, merchant travelers, such as Marco Polo, commented on the beauty of the Oriental carpets they encountered during their journeys. Shortly thereafter, these carpets began to be imported into Venice and subsequently distributed throughout Europe. While early examples of these carpets are seldom preserved, European great masters—from Giotto and Ghirlandaio to Holbein, Van Eyck, Lotto and Vermeer—often depicted those from Turkey and Iran.

Though many carpets appear in Dutch interiors of the time, it might suggest that they were a staple of Dutch households. However, their infrequent mention in death inventories and the scant documentation of these turkse and persiche tapijten in the cargo of Dutch merchant ships indicate otherwise.

It's understood that certain painters provided clients with the carpets themselves, and a single carpet could serve generations of artists. Vermeer, for example, appears to have utilized one particular carpet on multiple occasions.

Carpet expert Onno Ydema notes that the carpet in The Music Lesson is a 16th-century Ushak type from Turkey, and Vermeer depicted it with remarkable accuracy. Most carpets were portrayed as table coverings, displayed with the knotted side facing up. Due to their high value, these carpets were rarely placed on the floor where they might become dirty.

The Ushak carpets, originating from the town of Usak in Western Turkey, are among the most renowned types of Oriental rugs. Especially prominent during the 16th century, their production spans from the late medieval period and continues for many subsequent centuries. These carpets are celebrated for their large-scale, centralized designs, often showcasing medallions as a dominant motif. A central medallion surrounded by smaller, complementary designs is common, though some feature repetitive "all-over" patterns without a distinct central figure.

What sets the Ushak carpets apart is their soft and warm color palette. They predominantly flaunt shades of reds, blues and creamy ivories. With dyes derived from natural sources like plants, they possess a distinct, slightly muted tone. Crafted from high-quality wool, their weave is relatively loose, offering a plush, luxurious feel underfoot.

Their significance isn't just confined to their place of origin. These carpets held a special place in European art, particularly during the Renaissance. Today, the original 16th-century Ushak carpets are rarities, with collectors and museums worldwide valuing them as treasures of historical and artistic significance.

The white wine jug

Perched on top of an Ushak carpet, is a thin-necked wine jug with a remarkable creamy-white, tin glaze and topped by a metal lid. These tin-glazed containers were originally produced in Faenza, Italy. In the 1550s, they were exported all over Europe, and by the late 16th and early 17th century, had become very fashionable. In Holland, they were imitated by local potters. They appear in numerous genre interior paintings between 1650 and 1670. Although it is very difficult to distinguish between Italian and Dutch versions, historian of the Dutch decorative arts Alexandra Gaba van Dongen believes that the ones in Vermeer's paintings are Italian.

The vase is set upon an elaborately decorated silver tray. Rich urban dwellers often invested their money in furniture, silver objects, carpets, tapestries and porcelain, which in many cases were considered more valuable than paintings that hung nearby. The extravagant embossing and engraving of silver objects perfected by the best Dutch silversmiths required years of training and enormous skill. Some were the greatest artists of their time.

Curiously, for many Dutchman, paintings did not possess a comparable artistic "aura" as they do today and were collected for a variety of reasons.

The windows of Vermeer's studio

Young Woman with a Water Pitcher (detail)
Johannes Vermeer
c. 1662–1665
Oil on canvas, 45.7 x 40.6 cm.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

This is the only painting in Vermeer's oeuvre that shows two sets of windows. A third window outside the picture casts light on the artist's workstation. The design of the panes is comparable to those in the Young Woman Holding a Water Pitcher.

Such windows typically consisted of four casements. The bottom two had shutters on the outside (see Vermeer's Little Street) and at times, two upper shutters attached on the inside. The shutters controlled incoming light and airflow. Curtains were also hung to filter light and keep out indiscreet eyes from outside. Presumably, the two windows in The Music Lesson faced north onto the central Market Square. Painters have always preferred northern exposure for their studios since northern light is cooler and relatively constant throughout the working day.

On overcast or rainy days, the artist may have found more productive things to do than paint his brightly lit pictures. Perhaps, the brighter works were scheduled for the summer months when light was more abundant. In any case, Vermeer's studio was well-lit; approximately 40% of the area of the wall visible on the left was occupied by windows. According to estimates made by Steadman, this studio was about 6.6 meters deep, 4 meters wide, and about 3 meters high.

As in all of Vermeer's paintings (and this distinguishes them from works by his contemporaries), this window reveals no view outside, heightening the sense of privacy and silent dialogue between the figure.

A Girl in a Window with a Bunch of Grapes
Attributed to Gerrit Dou
1662
Oil on panel, 38 x 29 cm.
Galleria Sabauda, Turin

Hans Slager, a Dutch archivist, has noted that, so far, of the eight windows in Vermeer's work that feature the same central, quatrelobed geometric design as in the Music Lesson, only three have been identified in the works of other artists. One is by Gerrit Dou (1613-1675), titled Girl at Window with a Bunch of Grapes, dated 1660, and is housed in the Royal Collection Trust, UK. Another nearly identical piece by Dou from 1662 is in a private collection belonging to Prinz Eugen von Savoyen in Vienna/Turin. There's also one by Pieter Cornelisz Slingelandt (1640-1691), titled Lacemaker Buying a Cock Through the Window, located in Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Dresden, from 1672.

The timber rafters

Willem Weve, a historian of Delft architecture, notes that although domestic construction was not standardized in the city in the mid-17th century, the type of ceiling shown in this painting is one of several arrangements used in houses, and surviving examples can indeed be found. The timber members are small beams, probably of pine, supported by a wall plate over the windows, which can clearly be seen at the top left of The Music Lesson. The beams were supported at their other ends on a wall that was to the right of Vermeer's scenes, always out of sight. The ceiling beams in Vermeer's works seem to all slope downwards from left to right. The fact that they slant in the three instances in which they are represented suggests the possibility that this is a real geometrical property of the room and not an inaccuracy in Vermeer's drawing.

Wooden beams and rafters provided essential structural support for the houses. They bore the weight of the roof and upper floors, distributing it evenly across the structure and preventing potential collapses. When combined with thatch or other roofing materials, wooden rafters provided a certain degree of insulation. This was crucial in the colder months, ensuring that homes retained heat more efficiently.

The "Spanish" chairs

Vermeer, like many of his colleagues, depicted these common so-called Spanish chairs numerous times. The basic model originated in Spain in the 15th century and quickly spread throughout Europe. Typically, the chair legs are smooth, rounded and slender. They can be baluster-shaped or twisted.The seats, often made from embossed leather, sometimes colored or even gilded, were attached to the wooden frame using decorative nail heads. Beyond serving a functional purpose, the leather added an element of comfort and sophistication. This piece of furniture is distinctly bourgeois and was produced in large quantities. It is likely that the hand-carved lion-head finials were crafted by a specialized artisan or sculptor.

A particularly notable feature of many Spanish chairs is the lion-head finials, ornate carvings of lion heads holding rings in their maws, that usually adorn the top ends of the chair's uprights. These finials, representative of strength, nobility and majesty, were likely the handiwork of specialized artisans or sculptors, exemplifying the meticulous craftsmanship of the time.

The two Spanish chairs in the Music Lesson are probably identical to those in the Woman in Blue Reading a Letter. Both feature slender lion-head finials, blue upholstery and brass tacks to affix the upholstery to the chair. The color of the upholstery—most likely cloth rather than the traditional leather associated with chairs of this type—in the Music Lesson is much lighter. Whether this is due to artistic license or a phenomenon called ultramarine sickness, or ultramarine disease, is not known. The structure and upholstery of the foreground chair in The Music Lesson can be seen in greater detail than in its counterpart, where the fringes and wooden structure are hidden from sight.

Ultramarine was traditionally produced by grinding lapis lazuli rock from mines in Afghanistan into a fine powder and blending it with oils and waxes. It was the most expensive blue used by Renaissance painters, even more precious than gold. However, a synthetic version was invented in 1826, making it far cheaper.

Ultramarine sickness results when the paint becomes a dulled gray-blue color, which curiously occurs in both the natural and synthetic versions of the pigment, even though there are also many examples of well-preserved ultramarine blue paint layers in paintings that are hundreds of years old. Previously, researchers attributed the malady either to pigment loss or to tiny cracks forming between pigment particles and organic binders in the paint, causing light to scatter and dull the perceived color, despite the blue pigment still being present. Recent investigation indicates that the alteration of the paint's color is caused when ultramarine blue pigments are exposed to UV (ultraviolet) light, which triggers a reaction that damages the paint's binding material (linseed or walnut oil used to grind the finely powdered pigment into a paste) through a method involving unstable molecules called free radicals.

The study of pigment degradation is a complex field. There are ongoing efforts to understand, prevent, and reverse damage to historic artworks.

The viola da gamba

This viola da gamba did not appear in the initial concept of work but was presumably added in a later stage for compositional and/or iconographic motives.

The viola da gamba makes four minor, but symbolically significant, appearances in Vermeer's musical-themed paintings. In all four paintings it remains quietly unattended, never played. Art writers have speculated that someone, presumably a male suitor, will gather it up and mae music. Together with the lute, the viola da gamba is probably the most frequently represented instrument throughout the centuries, whether in painting, sculpture or miniature. Its soft but clear tone imitates the human voice and is the perfect complement for the lute. Its deep tone and unusual stature are associated with the male while the virginal is associated with the female.

The marble floor tiling: fact or fiction?

Dutch art specialists generally agree that Vermeer did not paint the marble floor tiles seen in many of his pictures from life, which lend these pictures an unmistakable stately air. Such a luxurious domestic feature, destined only for the very rich, was economically out of reach for both Vermeer and his mother-in-law with whom he lived., an in whose house he kept his studio for many years. Period inventories reveal that marble floors, rare in any case, were generally restricted to one room, the voorhuis (the main entrance), where they would have been seen and appreciated by visitors. Simple wooden floors with large planks were far more practical during the long, cold Dutch winters and were standard features even in the wealthiest Dutch homes. To see real marble floors, Vermeer would have had to take a short walk to the Delft Town Hall or the a longer walk to the nearby princely palace in Rijswijk.

The painting of marble tiles must have served a three-fold purpose for Dutch interior artists: to intensify the illusion of spatial depth, to demonstrate the artist's command of perspective, and to create richly decorated environments that would appeal to upper-class clients.

Since the tiles of Vermeer's floor could not have been painted from life, he may have devised a grid system from real ceramic tiles, which were much less costly than marble tiles, in his studio. The grid could then be adapted to the compositional needs of each work of art. In the present work, the white tiles were isolated to avoid creating an accelerated perspective that pulls the viewer's eyes too swiftly to the back of the painting. This same tile scheme is never repeated.

Differently from De Hooch and almost every other Dutch interior painter of the time, Vermeer always set the tiles of his scenes diagonally to the picture plane. The imaginative De Hooch experimented with many different patterns, with some scenes showing both perpendicular and diagonally set tiles. The veining of Vermeer's white tiles is often strangely calligraphic, out of key with the broader stylistic register of the painting.

Since the Netherlands does not have native sources of marble, the Dutch were obligated to import it for construction and artistic purposes, making it very costly. The area now known as Belgium, particularly the region of Wallonia, was historically a major source of fine marbles. The red, black and gray marbles from this region were particularly prized. Italy is renowned for its high-quality marble, especially the white marble from Carrara. Many sculptures and decorative elements crafted in the Dutch Republic during the Golden Age would have been made from Italian marble.

The gentleman: a teacher or a suitor?

What is going on in The Music Lesson is not so obvious. Some critics have pointed out that the men who appear in Vermeer's group paintings seem to have been intentionally relegated to an oddly passive role. In this case, the upright gentleman has been identified as a music teacher, rather than a partner, based on his authoritative pose and the themes of analogous paintings by Vermeer's colleagues. Walter Liedtke notes that the man's mouth is open, suggesting that he must be singing. Since no music books are visible, he must know the music by heart.

It has been pointed out that the back of the musician obscures the hands of the standing musician and part of the motto on the virginal's open lid. Dutch art expert Arthur K. Wheelock Jr. suggested that Vermeer intended to "emphasize less the specifics of the woman and her music and more the abstract concepts her music embodies: joy, harmony in love, healing and solace. Thus, the theme of healing and solace...is reinforced through the painting partially visible on the rear wall, a depiction of Cimon and Pero, a story taken from Valerius Maximus known as Roman Charity.

Music teachers, who were often stereotyped and free spirits, would travel from home to home, providing private lessons, mostly to young women who sought to enrich their cultural lives and to expand their means of conveying personal feelings. Small ensembles would come together in domestic settings to share the joy of playing in harmony and to entertain friends and relatives. These ensembles would bring their own instruments and carefully study the printed score.

Technical examinations have shown that Vermeer initially positioned the man closer to the girl. The girl's head was also once turned more toward the man, as reflected in the mirror. By moving the man further away and turning the girl's head back, Vermeer altered their relationship, allowing them to fit more harmoniously within the overall composition.

The yellow satin jacket

Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window (detail)
Johannes Vermeer
c. 1657–1659
Oil on canvas, 83 x 64.5 cm.
Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Dresden

The young musician wears a light satin yellow jacket that can be found in four other works. Marieke de Winkel, a Dutch costume expert, observes that this kind of garment was typically worn as daily wear and was sometimes called a schort, except in Leiden, where it was referred to as a wacht, although in Vermeer literature, it has been erroneously identified as a caraco or a pet en l'air, both of which refer to a later and somewhat different type of garment.

Only a few examples of these bodices have survived. One stunning a example can be found in London, made of pale blue watered silk and closes at the front,
likely dating from around 1655. Another is housed in the Hessisches Landesmuseum Darmstadt, which boasts a rare collection of well-preserved doublets and bodices from Cologne.

The schort fits tightly around the bust, drawing in the waist and pushing up the bosom to create an hourglass figure. It was likely internally boned or worn over a stay. With its smart cut, wide neckline, fine black trim and short puffed sleeves, it must have appealed to the painter's eye, and to the tastes of his wife, who probably owned it. With such a garment, a lady would wear a skirt equally made of silk satin and falling to the ground in soft pleats. The painter's fondness for this garment is evident by the number of times he portrayed it and the detailed attention he gave it. Its depiction varies slightly from one work of art to another.

Painting the white-washed wall

The background wall of Vermeer's Music Lesson offers a clear example of the challenges present in highly illusionistic painting. In Vermeer's work, light streams through an open window from left to right, raking obliquely across the uneven, uniformly colored surface of the wall. As its intensity gradually diminishes, the right-hand side of the wall is, according to optical laws, somewhat darker compared to the area near the window. But due to the perceptual mechanism known as brightness constancy, the human visual system tends to suppress these gradual changes in brightness. Therefore, an untrained observer in a room similar to Vermeer's will perceive the entire wall as uniformly white, and not notice the differences in the light's intensity. However, to convey the sensation of light weakening, the painter must use light gray paint near the light source and a considerably darker gray for parts further away. The difference in tonal value (gradations between white and black) between these areas is always more significant than one might anticipate, as evident in the provided diagram, in which two patches of the background wall have been switched to highlight our tendency to view the wall as uniformly light gray.