Tag: Dürer

John on Patmos and the Book of Revelation

John on Patmos and the Book of Revelation

The Apocalypse, a vision for all times

Now that I have written about Albrecht Dürer’s Life of the Virgin, I became intrigued by another of his most famous works, the Apocalypse. I occasionally encounter woodcut prints from this series in exhibitions, and they have always struck me as unsettling and mysterious. Images of four horsemen, a book with seven seals, Babylon and its whore, the end of days, and the last judgement raise an obvious question: what is all this about?

It sounds dark and frightening, and in many ways it is. I learned that Dürer based his Apocalypse series on the final book of the New Testament, the Book of Revelation. That discovery led me to ask who wrote this text and why it speaks in such extreme images.

What John records are visions revealed to him during his exile on Patmos, visions of catastrophe, judgement, but also renewal. Reading them today, it is striking how closely they echo our own time. Climate change, environmental destruction, authoritarian power, war, famine, and corruption all appear in the Book of Revelation. Born from exile and persecution, the text reads less like a theological work and more like a warning that continues to speak to the present.

I also discovered where Patmos is, a small Greek island at the far eastern edge of the Mediterranean Sea. Now I find myself wanting to go there, to spend time in contemplation, and perhaps to recover a sense of hope in these dark and uncertain times.

Let’s start exploring.

Albrecht Dürer’s Apocalypse series consists of fifteen woodcut prints, published in 1498, just a few years before the year 1500, a moment charged with fear and expectation that many believed could mark the end of days foretold in the Book of Revelation. From this series, I will focus on four key images: John put in a pot of boiling oil, the Four Horsemen, the Whore of Babylon, and the Apocalyptic Woman.

Alongside Dürer’s prints, I will also include medieval Apocalypse manuscripts from the centuries before him. Images from these books were widely familiar in the Middle Ages, and Dürer clearly builds upon this tradition while transforming it through the power of print, which made such images available to a far wider public.

We begin by asking what the Book of Revelation is and who its author was, a figure known as John on Patmos. We will follow John’s path into exile and ask how and why he ended up on Patmos, far to the east in the Mediterranean Sea, where his visions were revealed.

The Book of Revelation

The Book of Revelation is the final book of the New Testament, written in the late first century by John of Patmos, traditionally identified with John the Evangelist. Composed as a series of visions revealed to its author, it describes the Apocalypse, from the Greek word ἀποκάλυψις, literally meaning “an uncovering” or “a lifting of the veil”, rather than the end of the world alone. The book’s name in Dutch is Openbaring.

John, exiled to the island of Patmos during the reign of the Roman emperor Domitian, recounts a vision revealed to him by an angel and commanded to be made known. Written at the far eastern edge of the Roman Empire in the late first century and addressed to persecuted Christian communities, the text speaks in a language of terror and hope, warning and consolation.

Why is John on Patmos?

According to early Christian tradition, John was arrested during the reign of the emperor Domitian and brought to Rome, where he was condemned for his faith. Medieval sources recount that he was subjected to martyrdom by immersion in boiling oil, an ordeal from which he emerged unharmed, a sign of divine protection. Dürer’s print visualizes this moment of failed execution, emphasizing both the brutality of Roman authority and the impossibility of silencing the witness.

Unable to destroy him, the emperor instead ordered John into exile. He was banished to the small island of Patmos, at the far eastern edge of the Roman Empire, a place used for political and religious dissidents rather than common criminals. It is there, removed from centers of power yet still under imperial control, that John received the visions recorded in the Book of Revelation, transforming an act of punishment into a moment of revelation.

John’s visions

John’s vision begins with a throne set in heaven. In the hand of the one seated on the throne lies a sealed book, which only the lamb is worthy to open, the lamb being the symbol of Christ, slain and offered through his crucifixion. With the breaking of the seven seals, history itself is set in motion.

The opening of the seals unleashes four horsemen, bringers of conquest, war, famine, and death. Earthquakes follow, the sun is darkened, and the moon turns to blood. Trumpets sound, and the world is struck by fire, pestilence, darkness, and monstrous plagues. These are not random disasters, but signs of a world unraveling under tyranny, violence, and corruption.

Towards the end of the Book of Revelation, after disasters followed by judgment, comes renewal. Evil is bound, the dead are raised, and a new world is revealed, a luminous city of jasper walls and golden streets, where suffering has no place and history reaches its long promised end.

The Four Horsemen

In The Four Horsemen, the most famous woodcut from his Apocalypse series of 1498, Albrecht Dürer gives visual form to one of the most terrifying passages of the Book of Revelation. As the Lamb opens the first four seals of the sealed book, four riders are released upon the world, each mounted on a horse and entrusted with a destructive force that shapes human history.

Earlier illustrated Bibles often presented the horsemen as isolated figures or symbolic types. Dürer transforms the vision into an overwhelming surge of movement. The four horses and riders thunder diagonally across the image, compressed into a single, unstoppable wave that tramples everything beneath them. Death leads the charge, followed by Famine, War, and Conquest, their forms overlapping and interlocking so tightly that they appear as a single force rather than four separate agents.

Each rider carries a distinct attribute drawn from the biblical text. Number one bears a bow and crown, associated with conquest and domination. The second one raises a sword, bringing war and the collapse of peace. The third horseman holds a pair of scales, symbol of famine, scarcity, and economic imbalance. The final rider, Death, carries no emblem at all. His power is absolute and needs no sign. On Dürer’s woodblock print, human bodies are crushed beneath the horses, while a monstrous jaw gapes open to swallow the fallen (a bishop in particular), a reminder that violence, hunger, and disease spare no one.

The print does not present disaster as random or meaningless. The horsemen are released only after the seals are opened, suggesting that destruction follows from human history itself, from conquest, war, inequality, and the abuse of power. Seen today, the image still resonates. The forces Dürer visualized at the end of the fifteenth century remain disturbingly familiar, reminding us that the Apocalypse, in its original sense of revelation, is an unveiling of patterns that repeat across time.

The Whore of Babylon

In the Whore of Babylon, Albrecht Dürer gives visual form to a disturbing and politically charged vision in the Book of Revelation. John describes a woman seated upon a scarlet beast with seven heads and ten horns, adorned in luxury and holding a golden cup, drunk with the blood of saints and martyrs. Behind her rises the doomed city of Babylon, already engulfed in flames, its destruction both imminent and deserved.

Dürer presents the whore as a figure of seductive authority. She sits confidently upon the multi headed beast. The golden goblet in her hand, an object of beauty and desire, contains corruption and violence. Her gaze is directed toward a group of richly dressed figures who look upon her with fascination and submission, while an armed multitude advances from above, suggesting the reach and complicity of worldly power.

The seven headed beast beneath her recalls the dragon of the Apocalyptic Woman (hereunder as Dürer’s next print), linking these beasts of evil into a single continuum of deception, domination, and abuse of authority. Babylon itself is not only a city but a system, a world built on excess, exploitation, and the commodification of human life. Its fall is mourned not by the innocent, but by kings and merchants whose wealth and influence depended upon it.

For Dürer’s contemporaries, his image spoke directly to anxieties about corrupt rulers, moral decay, and the entanglement of power, money, and violence. Seen today, the Whore of Babylon remains a haunting warning. It is a vision not of sudden catastrophe, but of a society undone by its own indulgence and indifference, a world that collapses precisely because it mistakes luxury and authority for justice and truth.

The Apocalyptic Woman and the Seven-Headed Dragon

In the Apocalyptic Woman and the Seven-Headed Dragon, Albrecht Dürer visualizes one of the most complex and symbol laden passages of the Book of Revelation. John describes a woman clothed with the sun, the moon beneath her feet, and a crown of twelve stars upon her head. Before her stands a monstrous dragon with seven heads and ten horns, waiting to devour her. A child is saved and taken up to God, while the woman flees, protected yet pursued. The Woman is interpreted as Mary and the Child as Christ. The Seven-Headed Dragon represents Satan and evil. This image is a good versus evil struggle.

Dürer transforms this vision into a tightly compressed drama. The woman appears serene yet vulnerable, elevated above the earthly realm, while the dragon coils below her in violent agitation. Its multiple heads and gaping mouths embody chaos, deception, and oppressive power, often interpreted as an image of empire and tyranny. The contrast is stark: divine order and promise above, destructive force below. The print is emphasizing that the struggle between good and evil is ongoing and not yet settled.

For contemporary viewers around 1500, this image resonated deeply. It echoed fears of political corruption, religious conflict, and looming catastrophe, while also offering reassurance that evil, however terrifying, would not ultimately prevail. The Apocalyptic Woman stands as a figure of endurance and hope, a reminder that this Revelation is not only a vision of destruction, but also of preservation, resistance, and eventual renewal.

Closing Notes

The Book of Revelation was written in a world marked by imperial violence, religious persecution, forced movement of people, and the abuse of power by an authority that claimed absolute legitimacy. The book’s visions are not fantasies of destruction for their own sake, but acts of unveiling: a refusal to accept oppression as normal or inevitable.

When Albrecht Dürer published his Apocalypse in 1498, Europe stood on the threshold of the year 1500, a moment charged with apocalyptic expectation. War, plague, religious anxiety, and social unrest shaped how these images were read. Dürer’s woodcuts force the viewer to recognize violence, false authority, and human suffering as part of a recurring historical pattern rather than a singular catastrophe.

Seen from our own time, marked by war, displacement, environmental destruction, and the misuse of power, the Revelations once again feel uncomfortably close. Yet the book does not ask us to endure these conditions in silence while waiting for a promised end. Its ultimate vision of a renewed world serves as a standard against which the injustices of the present are exposed.

Revelation’s “happy ending” does not cancel the horrors that precede it. The images confront every age with the same question: whether we recognize Babylon while living within it, and whether we still dare to imagine a world made new.

Albrecht Dürer: Bestseller and Piracy

Albrecht Dürer: Bestseller and Piracy

16th century copyright protection

Last October I was in Nuremberg, Germany, the city where Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528) was born and lived. One can visit the Dürerhaus, where he worked and resided from 1509 until his death. This visit inspired me to look more closely at Dürer’s life and work, especially his woodcut series. Among these, Life of the Virgin stands out as an excellent example: a cycle of twenty prints, sold both individually and published as a book with corresponding Latin verses. It became a bestseller already during Dürer’s lifetime, not only in Germany, but across Europe. And, inevitably, it was also widely copied, often without Dürer’s permission.

We will look more closely at the Life of the Virgin series and explore how Dürer tried to protect his artistic rights and defend his name against the flood of “fake Dürers” that appeared in its wake. We will then follow the complete series itself, which unfolds like a comic-book narrative about the Virgin Mary, her parents Anna and Joachim, and, of course, her son Jesus Christ.

Let’s explore as follows:

Dürer: artist and business man

Albrecht Dürer was not only a master artist but also a businessman. His prints reached buyers all over Europe through a clever distribution system, with his wife even selling them at trade fairs such as Frankfurt. Prints were a steady source of income, and Dürer offered works in a wide range of styles and price points.

Among the most ambitious of these projects was Life of the Virgin, a cycle of twenty woodcuts first published individually and later as a book in Nuremberg in 1511. Each image was paired with Latin verses by Benedictus Chelidonius, a learned Benedictine monk, also from Nuremberg. The combination of Dürer’s monumental images with humanist poetry gave the series the dignity of a richly illustrated devotional book.

Fake prints

But his success also came with frustrations: new works were copied almost immediately, sometimes crudely, but often in high-quality versions that were difficult to distinguish from the originals. Some even bore his famous AD monogram, used as both trademark and signature, to pass as genuine Dürers.

Look at the two following prints: the original woodcut by Dürer and the exact copy made by Marcantonio Raimondi as an engraving, even including Dürer’s AD monogram. Raimondi produced his copy three years after Dürer published the original.

Copies flourished north and south of the Alps. Some bore fake monograms, others carefully erased Dürer’s signature, or replaced it with a crude imitation. Ironically, this wave of imitation only spread his fame further. In this sense, Dürer’s imagery became part of a wider visual language of the time, endlessly adapted and reinterpreted. Yet Dürer’s efforts to protect his work mark him out as one of the first artists to confront what we now call copyright. Dürer was keenly aware that his art was not only spiritual and aesthetic, but also a commercial product in the bustling market of Renaissance Europe.

The Life of the Virgin cycle’s popularity made it a prime target for counterfeiters. The renaissance art-writer Giorgio Vasari (Italian, 1511 – 1574) later recounted how the Italian engraver Marcantonio Raimondi (c.1470 – c.1527) copied the entire Life of the Virgin in engraving, even adding Dürer’s monogram. According to Vasari, Dürer pursued the matter in Venice and won a ruling forbidding Raimondi to use his mark. Whether or not Vasari embroidered the story, it reflects a real concern: Dürer’s name and monogram were being exploited, and he took active steps to defend them. His colophon to the 1511 edition of Life of the Virgin is a warning against pirated copies, and shows a remarkably modern awareness of intellectual property and artistic rights.

Dürer’s anti-piracy colophon is phrased as a severe warning to anyone who dared to copy his prints. Translated from Latin, it reads like a threat, and is strikingly laid out in a triangular form on the final sheet of the Life of the Virgin series. Here it is, and shiver while reading the last paragraph!

Printed in Nuremberg by the painter Albrecht Dürer, in the year of Christ 1511.

Woe to you, thief of another’s labor and skill! Do not dare to lay your reckless hands upon these works. Know that the most glorious Roman Emperor Maximilian has granted us the right that no one may presume to print these images from false blocks, or to sell them throughout the bounds of the Empire.
If, driven by arrogance or by greed, you do so, then be certain of this: after the confiscation of your goods, you will have to face the gravest peril without escape.

Dürer’s trip to Venice seems to have had some effect, especially when combined with the anti-piracy colophon he added to the final page of the Life of the Virgin series. Marcantonio Raimondi, who had previously copied these entire series and even reproduced Dürer’s “AD” monogram, now approached Dürer’s work more cautiously. When he later engraved another series after Dürer (the Small Passion series), Marcantonio copied every detail with his usual precision, except the monogram. In these later prints the space where Dürer placed his “AD” trademark is left conspicuously blank. Compare these two images from the Small Passion series: Dürer’s original, proudly bearing his monogram, and Raimondi’s meticulous copy, identical in all respects but stripped of Dürer’s AD monogram.

Life of the Virgin

Having spoken about Dürer’s efforts to protect his copyright, let’s now look at the Life of the Virgin series itself. Conceived as a cycle of twenty woodcuts — nineteen narrative scenes plus a frontispiece — it traces the Virgin Mary’s story from the rejection of her father Joachim’s offering in the Temple to her Assumption and Glorification in heaven. Dürer began the series around 1501 and published it a decade later, in 1511, as a complete book. Each image was paired with Latin verses written by Benedictus Chelidonius, a Benedictine monk and humanist poet from Dürer’s own city. Together, image and text created a carefully balanced combination of visual devotion and humanist learning, intended for a cultivated audience of merchants, clerics, and scholars.

Image and Text; Dürer and Chelidonius

Benedictus Chelidonius (c. 1460–1521), a humanist scholar and Benedictine monk from the monastery of St. Egidius in Nuremberg provided the Latin verses that accompany the Life of the Virgin series. Chelidonius belonged to the circle of learned churchmen who sought to merge humanist literary style with devotional themes, while remaining firmly rooted in the Catholic tradition. This was no small matter: by 1511 Luther’s Reformation was already knocking loudly at Nuremberg’s doors. In my view, Dürer’s imagery for Life of the Virgin adheres closely to Catholic tradition, not so much as a protest against the Reformation, but out of pragmatic awareness. As a skilled tradesman, he understood that more traditional devotional images would continue to sell well in regions less touched by reformist ideas, especially in Catholic countries such as Italy.

Chelidonius’ poems retell the Virgin’s life with a mixture of biblical narrative and rhetorical flourish. Dürer sought to dignify his art with humanist eloquence and the authority of the written word, and Chelidonius’ text dramatized and deepened the episodes shown in the prints.

An example of text and image; Joachim’s offer rejected in the Temple.

In Dürer’s print, the old priest thrusts Joachim’s sacrifice away with an unmistakable gesture of condemnation. Chelidonius heightens this visual drama with a scathing Latin rebuke, placing words in the mouth of the High Priest that leave no doubt about the seriousness of Joachim’s “crime”: childlessness. The verse does not merely explain the scene, it intensifies its emotional and moral charge.

Here is line 17-21, in Latin and the translation; pretty harsh!

Infecunde senex, audes qua fronte feraces
inter conventus ire sub ora Dei?
I, sterili te condere domo, vir inutilis! Odit
coniugium frigens et sine fruge polus.
“Barren old man, with what face do you dare
to stand among the fruitful in the sight of God?
Go, hide yourself in your sterile house, useless husband!
Heaven itself despises a cold and fruitless marriage.”

These four lines condense the theological, moral, and human dimensions of the scene. They make clear that Chelidonius was not content simply to accompany Dürer’s images with decorative poetry. Rather, his verses work as a deliberate dramatic counterpoint, drawing the reader deeper into the emotional world of the Life of the Virgin series. In this way, Chelidonius and Dürer together transform Joachim’s humiliation into a vivid meditation on faith, obedience, and divine purpose.

Life of the Virgin; the 20 woodcuts

The 1511 edition was remarkable not only for its art but also for its modern design. It reflects Dürer’s awareness of both aesthetics and marketing. His aim was to elevate the woodcut from a humble popular medium to the level of fine art. At the same time, the book’s devotional subject and refined presentation ensured wide appeal, making it one of the most sought-after print series of the early sixteenth century.

Frontispiece: The Virgin on a Crescent Moon

The series opens with a radiant image of Mary sitting on a crescent moon, a symbol of her Immaculate Conception, pure and untouched by sin from her birth. Dürer blends several motifs here: the Virgin’s regal dignity with a crown of stars, and her gentle motherly presence by nursing her baby Jesus. The composition sets the tone for the entire cycle, presenting Mary as both approachable and exalted.

The Rejection of Joachim’s Offering in the Temple

The story begins harshly. The aged Joachim, husband of Anna and father-to-be of Mary, presents his offering at the Temple, a lamb and a small cage of birds, but the High Priest turns him away, rejecting his devotion due to Joachim’s childlessness. They judge him unworthy in the eyes of God, because he and Anna have no children. Dürer shows the moment of humiliation vividly, the priest pushes back the old man’s gift, while bystanders whisper. Hurt and ashamed, Joachim leaves Jerusalem and heads into the wilderness, convinced he has failed his family and his faith.

The Angel Appears and Annunciation to Joachim 

Joachim, dejected and wandering in the wilderness, is visited by an angel who brings a divine promise. The angel tells him his wife Anna will conceive a child through divine grace. Dürer fills the landscape with a sense of sudden tenderness: the old man kneels, overwhelmed, as the heavenly visitor leans toward him with reassurance. The encounter transforms despair into hope.

The Meeting of Joachim and Anna at the Golden Gate

Meanwhile, Anna receives the same message from another angel, and she hurries toward Jerusalem’s Golden Gate. Joachim, rushing from the desert, meets her there. The couple embrace, their joy erupting in the middle of the busy gate. Dürer makes this reunion radiant and human, two elderly people clinging to each other with relief, gratitude, and renewed hope.

The Birth of the Virgin

Inside a lively household, the Virgin Mary is born. Women bustle about as midwives tend to Anna, resting in her bed after the long-awaited delivery. Others bathe the newborn child in a small wooden tub. Dürer turns this sacred moment into an intimate domestic scene, full of details: textiles, furniture, and the calm relief of a long-desiring mother.

The Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple

As a small child, Mary is brought by her parents to the Temple, dedicated to God’s service. Dürer shows her climbing the steep steps alone, a tiny figure ascending toward the high priest who awaits her. Joachim and Anna look on, both proud and moved, as if understanding that their daughter’s life will be extraordinary. Anna points at the offering lambs, as if she tells Joachim “do you still remember when your offer was rejected?”. Dürer connects the early “Joachim’s Rejection” print with Mary’s triumphal entry into the temple.

The Marriage of the Virgin

Mary is joined in marriage to an older widowed man named Joseph before a small assembly of witnesses. Dürer captures both the ceremony’s ritual precision and the human warmth of the participants. Joseph and Mary convey mutual respect and spiritual purpose, while the architectural setting frames the sacred promise binding them together.

The Annunciation

In a quiet, sunlit interior, Mary reads when the angel Gabriel appears before her. His message is astonishing: she will conceive a child through the Holy Spirit. Mary reacts with humility, and acceptance; a moment of divine communication.

The Visitation, Mary meets Elisabeth

Mary travels to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, who is miraculously pregnant with John the Baptist. The two women meet outdoors in an affectionate embrace, recognizing the divine mystery present in both of them. Both women are pregnant with children who will play central roles in salvation history. Their embrace conveys joy, mutual recognition, and shared purpose.

The Nativity; Adoration of the Shepherds

Christ is born in a ruined stable. Mary kneels in worship, gazing at the child. Joseph stands nearby. Angels crowd above. Shepherds arrive to offer humble reverence. Dürer’s composition guides the viewer’s eye toward Christ, while the rustic setting reminds us of the humility of his entrance into the world.

The Circumcision of Christ

On the eighth day after his birth, the infant Jesus is brought to the Temple for his circumcision, the ritual that marks him formally as a son of Israel. Dürer sets the scene inside a vaulted sacred space, where priests prepare the ceremony, while Mary stands close, watching anxiously yet faithfully as her child undergoes the ancient rite. It’s a composition that balances human vulnerability with religious duty.

The Adoration of the Magi

Three kings arrive from distant lands, bringing gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They kneel before the infant with reverence, their faces full of age, wisdom, and wonder. Dürer sets the scene within a magnificent architectural ruin, as if he conveys both the worldly grandeur of the Magi and the serene divinity of the holy family.

Presentation in the Temple

Mary kneels, offering a small cage of doves as the modest sacrifice prescribed for the poor, while Joseph stands behind her, attentive. Simeon, the aged priest, lifts the infant Christ with reverent care, fulfilling prophecy. A few bystanders watch quietly, and the vast temple interior frames the sacred act. Dürer emphasizes the gravity of the ritual and the fulfillment of God’s promise, balancing intimacy with monumental architecture.

The Flight into Egypt

Warned in a dream that King Herod seeks the child’s life, Mary and Joseph flee south into Egypt. Mary rides a donkey, cradling her baby, while Joseph leads them along a rugged path. Dürer enriches the landscape with a palm tree and exotic vegetation, the Middle Eastern landscape through which the Holy Family must quietly pass.

The Rest on the Flight into Egypt

Now settled in Egypt, the Holy Family engages in daily life. Joseph works at his carpenter’s bench, and Mary spins wool nearby; it’s a small industrious household. The infant Christ is tended by angels and we see putti, while God the Father blesses the scene, the Holy Spirit descending as a dove.

The 12-Year-Old Christ Among the Doctors

Back in Jerusalem, after days of searching, Mary and Joseph find twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple, debating from a lectern with learned scholars. Dürer fills the hall with the old learned men, pointing, arguing, leaning in, and surprised by the boy’s insight, already showing the authority that will define his later ministry.

Christ Taking Leave of His Mother

Before his Passion, Christ comes once more to say goodbye to Mary. The moment is private and emotional. They stand near the simple entrance of her home, both aware of what lies ahead. Dürer captures a moment familiar to all parents: the pain of letting go, knowing a child must follow his calling.

The Death of the Virgin

Surrounded by the apostles, Mary’s final moments unfold in a room lit by candles. The apostles lean in, praying softly; reading from a book or holding candles. Mary lies peaceful. Dürer balances human grief with sacred serenity.

The Assumption into Heaven and The Coronation of the Virgin

Angels lift Mary from her tomb, carrying her upward into a swirl of clouds. Her body rises not through effort but through grace. Below, the apostles look up in awe, their expressions mixing disbelief and wonder. The scene bridges earth and heaven in one sweeping vertical movement. The cycle ends triumphantly. In heaven, both her Son Christ and God the Father crown Mary as Queen of Heaven.

Glorification of the Virgin, surrounded by saints

Dürer concludes the series with a majestic vision of Mary exalted in heaven, surrounded by a host of saints and angels. She sits at the center, serene and radiant, while figures of holy men and women gather around her. Angels float gracefully, carrying musical instruments and banners. The composition conveys both joy and solemnity: the trials, sorrows, and faithful endurance of Mary’s life are now transfigured into eternal glory.

Closing Notes

When we look at Life of the Virgin by Albrecht Dürer, as a series published in 1511 and with most of the prints issued individually around 1505, we must try to see it not only with our nowadays eyes, accustomed to endless images, but with the eyes of Dürer’s contemporaries. How did people in the early sixteenth century experience a series like this? They lived in a world without photographs, without film, without magazines, without the internet, without TikTok or Instagram, a world where most people encountered images only in a church altarpiece or the occasional fresco. It was, visually speaking, a world of darkness punctuated by a few precious points of light.

Into that world, Dürer released this series. And it reads almost like a comic book or a biopic: one scene leading seamlessly into the next, each print a little narrative cliffhanger inviting the viewer to turn the page. Published with accompanying text, the series functioned almost like a script for a film long before cinema existed.

Dürer’s imagery was fresh, inventive, and instantly recognizable. In an age without photocopiers or digital reproduction, the only way to “go viral” was through reprinting, and Dürer was one of the first artists whose visual inventions were copied, repeated, and adapted across Europe. It is no wonder that his compositions reappear again and again throughout the sixteenth century and beyond. Success brought imitation, but Dürer was acutely aware of his intellectual property: he did everything he could to protect his “AD” monogram, his early version of a brand logo.

If we translate Dürer’s achievement into modern terms, he was an influencer, a trendsetter, even a blockbuster director whose imagery shaped European art. “Life of the Virgin” can be read as a Renaissance biopic, a storyboard for a film about Mary’s life, “There’s Something About Mary” created, directed and produced by Albrecht Dürer. In 1511.

Saint Anthony

Saint Anthony

Temptation, Burning Skin Disease, and Care as Cure.

After writing about the prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah, and more recently about Daniel, I feel it’s time to return to the Saints: who they are, and how to recognise them in art. One saint I’ve long wanted to write about is Saint Anthony. There are several saints named Anthony, but I mean Saint Anthony the Great also known as Saint Anthony the Abbot. He is the protector and healer of those suffering from Saint Anthony’s Fire, or Ergotism, which is a burning skin disease combined with hallucinations.

Anthony’s story is also a fascinating example of the difference between care and cure in the history of medicine. The monks of the Antonine order offered such dedicated care to the sick that it was often seen as a cure. And of course, plenty of prayer, that helped too.

The stories around Saint Anthony I’ll be exploring are:

A recurring theme is care as cure; how, in the pre-scientific medical era, the care offered by monks served as both physical and spiritual healing.

Saint Anthony as a historical figure

First, a few words about Saint Anthony and who he was as a historical figure. Anthony was a monk who lived in Egypt during the 3rd and 4th centuries AD. At a young age, Anthony gave away all his wealth and worldly possessions after hearing the Gospel message to ‘sell all you have and give to the poor.’ He chose to live an ascetic life in the desert, devoting himself to solitude, prayer, and spiritual struggle. He is often considered the father of Christian monasticism.

Monasticism, in the Christian tradition, refers to a way of life in which individuals withdraw from worldly society to live in spiritual discipline, often in communities (monasteries) devoted to prayer, work, and contemplation. Saint Anthony is called the father of monasticism because he was among the first to retreat into the desert purely for religious reasons, inspiring many others to follow his example. Although he lived as a hermit himself, his life and teachings laid to the foundation of communal life in monastries as the Hospital Brothers of Saint Anthony, later known as the Antonines.

The Temptation of Saint Anthony

During his years of isolation, Anthony reportedly endured intense temptations, visions and torments involving lust, wealth, pride, and physical suffering, which he resisted through faith and prayer. These battles became central themes in later depictions of him in art, especially in the many dramatic scenes of ‘The Temptation of Saint Anthony.

Here we see Anthony with his hands clasped in prayer, fleeing from a dark, hellish vision. As the saint flees, his hands point to a monastery, a reminder that he was the founder of monasticism.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (c.1517), Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo (Italian, c.1483 – 1548), 70x119cm, Timken Museum of Art, San Diego, CA.
Anthony sits reading from a book; from the right approaches a woman with a goblet in her hand; the horns on her head indicate she is a demon. She tries to seduces Anthony with a goblet of abundance, which Anthony refuses of course.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1509), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Engraving, 18x16cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Search for Saint Anthony in this painting full with demons and temptation! He is sitting under the tree at the right side. A lady is trying to seduce him. And demons galore!
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1650), Joos van Craesbeeck (Flemish, c.1605 – 1660), 78×116, Staatliche Kunsthalle Karlsruhe, Germany.
The Temptation of Saint Antony (1556), Engraving by Pieter van der Heyden (Flemish, 1530 – 1572) after a design by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (Flemish, c.1525 – 1530), 24x33cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
I couldn’t resist the temptation to add this Brueghel print to the collection of Temptations. First, look for Saint Anthony, he is seated on the right side, beneath the tree trunk. On his cloak, he wears the Tau-cross, the symbol of the Antonine monks. Compare this print to the painting by Joos van Craesbeeck shown above. The painting (from 1650) could not have existed without inspiration from Brueghel’s print (from 1556).
The Temptation of Saint Antony (1556), Engraving by Pieter van der Heyden (Flemish, 1530 – 1572) after a design by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (Flemish, c.1525 – 1530), 24x33cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
The bearded saint is gazing toward a woman who symbolises Lust. The devil sent the demons to beat him and alluring women to distract him from his prayers. Saint Anthony evens sees the devils fly above his head, which is a typical form of hallucination caused by the poison in the Ergot fungus, as well as in LSD trips; LSD contains same chemical elements.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1647), David Teniers the Younger (Flemish, 1610 – 1690), 51×71, Prado, Madrid.
Saint Anthony gazes serenely out at the viewer as frenzied demons grab at his limbs, clothes, and hair and pound him with sticks.
The Temptation of Saint Anthony (c.1472), Martin Schongauer (German, c.1445 – 1491), Engraving, 31x23cm, Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.

Saint Anthony’s Fire and Ergotism

Anthony’s legendary temptations bear a striking resemblance to the symptoms of Ergotism, a disease caused by eating rye bread contaminated with the ergot fungus. In the Middle Ages, rye was a staple food for the poor. When stored in damp conditions, especially during the wet autumn months, the grain could easily become infected. Bread made from this tainted rye caused severe outbreaks of illness across entire mostly-rural communities. This mysterious and terrifying illness, especially the burning pain of the skin (like a fire) is known as Saint Anthony’s Fire, or in Dutch as Kriebelziekte (“Itching Disease”). Common Ergotism symptoms included this burning skin pain, but also hallucinations, convulsions, mania, and gangrene, often mistaken for demonic possession or divine punishment. At the time, people had no idea that a fungus in their bread was the cause. Instead, they believed they were possessed or being punished by the devil. In their desperation, many turned to Saint Anthony, whose legendary temptations in the desert seemed to reflect their own torments. His name became associated with miraculous healing and spiritual endurance.

In response to widespread suffering, the Hospital Brothers of Saint Anthony, later known as the Antonines, were founded in France in the late 11th century by two French noblemen who credited Saint Anthony with healing them. The order established monasteries and hospitals across Europe, particularly along pilgrimage routes, where they cared for victims of Saint Anthony’s Fire. Though unaware of the disease’s true cause (infected bread), the Antonines provided nourishing food (proper bread and not infected rye bread), hygiene, skin treatment, and spiritual care. Their compassion and effectiveness further strengthened Saint Anthony’s reputation as a protector of the sick and suffering.

The Isenheimer Altarpiece, created by Matthias Grünewald in the early 16th century, was made for the Antonine monastery and hospital in Isenheim, near Colmar, France. The altarpiece held a central place in the hospital chapel. With its vivid, often harrowing imagery of suffering and healing, it was meant to offer spiritual comfort and a sense of connection between Christ’s pain and the patients’ own suffering from Saint Anthony’s Fire.

With its inner wings open, the Altarpiece allowed pilgrims and patients to venerate Saint Anthony, protector and healer of Saint Anthony’s fire. Saint Anthony occupies the place of honour at the centre of the altarpiece and at his side two pigs can be seen. The panel on the right depicts Saint Anthony being tormented by monstrous creatures.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), inner wings opened, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), open 269x589cm, Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with Temptation of Saint Anthony and a creature suffering from skin ulcers, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 - 1528), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
Saint Anthony being tormented by monstrous creatures. Trampled to the ground, beaten with sticks, pulled by his hair, torn by claws and bitten, Saint Anthony appeals to God for help. In the lower left corner, the being with a distended belly seems to personify the disease caused by ergot poisoning, resulting in swelling and ulcerous growths.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with Temptation of Saint Anthony of Saint Anthony. and a creature suffering from skin ulcers, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
The wings of the altarpiece were mostly kept closed, displaying The Crucifixion framed on the left by the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian pierced by arrows, and on the right by Saint Anthony, remaining calm although he is being taunted by a frightening monster. The two saints protect and heal the sick, Saint Anthony as the patron saint of the victims of Saint Anthony’s fire and Saint Sebastian, whose aid was invoked to ward off the plague, a disease also leading to terrible skin lesions.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), closed, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), open 269x589cm, Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.

The symptoms of ergotism can lead to a range of psychiatric and neurological disturbances, including mania and psychosis. The symptoms are akin to bad LSD trips, as LSD contains chemical elements related to the ergot fungus. Sufferers may see all kinds of monsters flying or even believe they can fly themselves. Very much alike the temptations of Saint Anthony.

By the end of the 15th century, the monks had built roughly 370 hospitals across Europe to treat outbreaks of Saint Anthony’s Fire. The brothers were also instrumental in caring for those infected with the plague or Black Death. The success of these hospitals may be attributed to feeding their patients bread made from uninfected grains, such as wheat or other cereals, and providing compassionate care as a form of treatment. The Antonine Order as a monastic institution no longer exists. It began to decline in the 17th century, and by the late 18th century, it was absorbed into other religious orders or dissolved, especially during the wave of secularization and monastic reform that swept Europe.

However, their legacy of care lived on and we still see traces of it today, particularly in the naming of hospitals, clinics, and charitable institutions. Names like Antonius Gasthuis (Hospital) in the Netherlands preserve this heritage, reminding us that long before modern medicine, healing was closely tied to religious devotion, charity, and the care of the sick.

How to recognize Saint Anthony in art

The Antonines were allowed to let their pigs roam freely through towns and villages. These pigs often wore little bells to signal that they belonged to the order and should not be harmed. The fat from these pigs was used by the monks to make the medicinal Saint Anthony’s balm, a healing ointment for treating the skin lesions and intense burning sensations caused by ergotism (by Saint Anthony’s Fire). When going around for alms, the monks were also carrying and ringing bells.

Over time, the pig and the bell became symbols of Saint Anthony’s role as a protector of the sick. In art, the pig is a subtle allusion to both his healing work and the monastic order’s care practices. Another symbol is the fire, which represents the fire-like burning pain of the skin disease, the Saint Anthony’s Fire.

Another symbol closely associated with Saint Anthony is the Greek letter Tau (Τ). This simplest form of the cross was a decorative emblem with a spiritual meaning. Saint Anthony is said to have used the Tau as a sign of protection against evil, and it became the emblem of the Antonine order and the monks wore it on their habits.

Saint Anthony with his various symbols: the Tau Cross on his cloak, a pig, a bell, and the fire, representing Saint Anthony’s Fire, the burning skin diseases.
Saint Anthony the Great (c.1455), Joan Reixach (Spanish, 1431 – 1486), Tempera on Panel, 91x64cm, Prado, Madrid.
Saint Anthony the Great (c.1520), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, 1498 – 1533), Engraving, 11x7cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.
Also a symbol of Saint Anthony is the bell, so that everyone could hear the monks going around for alms; a bell is hanging on the pig and in the top left corner.
Saint Anthony the Great (c.1520), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, 1498 – 1533), Engraving, 11x7cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.
An engraving of St Anthony, seated and reading a book. Anthony’s symbols, a bell is hanging on the cross next to him.
Saint Anthony (1519), Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471 – 1528), Engraving, 10x15cm, Royal Collection Trust, London.

Travel destinations

Two important sites are closely connected to the legacy of Saint Anthony and are now high on my visit-wish-list: Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye in France and the Monastery of Saint Anthony in Egypt.

Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye, France.

Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye, in southeastern France, is a medieval village that developed around an abbey housing relics of Saint Anthony, brought there in the 11th century. In the Middle Ages, it became a major pilgrimage destination, especially for those seeking healing from Saint Anthony’s Fire. It was also the motherhouse of the Antonines, or the Hospital Brothers of Saint Anthony, the religious order devoted to care and healing.

Monastery of Saint Anthony, Egypt

The Monastery of Saint Anthony in Egypt, located in the Eastern Desert near the Red Sea, is one of the oldest Christian monasteries in the world. Founded in the 4th century near the cave where Saint Anthony lived in seclusion, it has remained a center of pilgrimage and monastic life ever since, preserving the spiritual heritage of early Christian monasticism within the Coptic Orthodox tradition.

Medical literature

And here are two great articles from the medical literature.

An article (in Dutch) about healthcare in relation to the Isenheim Altarpiece, published in 1995 in the Dutch Magazine for Healthcare, J.P. Mackenbach, ‘De kriebelziekte en het Isenheimer altaar’, Nederlands Tijdschrift voor Geneeskunde, 1995.

In another beautiful article (in English) the writers underscore that at least three distinct diseases, one toxic (i.e., ergotism) and two infectious (i.e., erysipelas and herpes zoster) have been called Saint Anthony’s Fire, and that even some cases of plague may have been included. The article is from 2021, “One holy man, one eponym, three distinct diseases. St. Anthony’s fire revisited”, by G. Cervellin, U. Longobardi an G. Lippi, in Acata Biomedica, 2021.

Closing Notes

Although the Antonine monasteries no longer exist, their legacy is still with us. Hospitals and care institutions across Europe still bear the name of Saint Anthony, such as the ‘St. Antonius Gasthuis’ in Zeeland, The Netherlands. These names are not coincidental. They are echoes of a time when healing the sick was considered a sacred duty, and when monks provided care long before the advent of modern medicine. The spirit of Saint Anthony’s compassion, and the idea that care itself can be a form of healing, continues to influence how we think about health and humanity today.

In our modern world, medicine often revolves around the idea of cure: fixing what is broken, extending life, eliminating disease. While this is a noble and essential goal, we sometimes risk forgetting the quieter, older value of care. Saint Anthony and the Antonine monks remind us that healing is not always about eradicating illness. Their gentle presence, their comfort, their tending to the pain of others – these were acts of care that, in their time, were experienced as cures.

For the old, the frail, and those nearing the end of life, a cure may no longer be possible. But care, simple and devoted and human, can still be given. And in many cases, it may be the greater blessing.

Bonus

This 1946 painting by Salvador Dalí was created for an invitational competition on the theme of The Temptation of Saint Anthony, organized by the Loew-Lewin Company, a film production firm. The winning entry would appear in the movie The Private Affairs of Bel Ami, based on a story by Guy de Maupassant. Eleven artists participated, including Dalí, Paul Delvaux, and Max Ernst. Although Dalí’s painting did not win the contest, it later became the most well-known of all the submissions. The prize ultimately went to Ernst.

L’invention de la Renaissance; L’humanisme, le prince et l’artiste

L’invention de la Renaissance; L’humanisme, le prince et l’artiste

Bibliothèque nationale de France BnF, Paris

20 February – 16 June 2024

Du XIVe au XVIe siècle, l’Europe a été le théâtre d’une effervescence intellectuelle, artistique et scientifique nouvelle, que la postérité a consacrée sous le nom de Renaissance. L’humanisme en constitue le coeur : né dans l’Italie du XIVe siècle et caractérisé par le retour aux textes antiques et la restauration des valeurs de civilisation dont ils étaient porteurs, le mouvement humaniste a produit en Occident un modèle de culture nouveau, qui a modifié en profondeur les formes de la pensée comme celles de l’art. Les princes et les puissants s’en sont bientôt emparés pour fonder sur lui une image renouvelée d’eux-mêmes, comme l’attestent tout particulièrement les grandes et magnifiques bibliothèques qu’ils ont réunies.

Érasme de Rotterdam (1526), Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471-1528), engraving, 25x19cm, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.

La BnF consacre une exposition à cette épopée culturelle et à ce moment décisif dans l’avènement de notre modernité, où littérature et art occupent une place maîtresse. La présentation de plus de 200 oeuvres comprenant des manuscrits, des livres imprimés, des estampes, des dessins, des peintures, des sculptures et objets d’art, des monnaies et médailles issues des collections de la BnF et de prêts extérieurs de grandes collections parisiennes (musée du Louvre, musée Jacquemart-André) plonge le visiteur dans l’univers de pensée et le monde des humanistes de la Renaissance.

Le parcours de l’exposition conduit du cabinet de travail privé du lettré s’entourant de ses livres dans son studiolo jusqu’à l’espace ouvert au public des grandes bibliothèques princières. Entre ces deux moments qui disent l’importance capitale des livres et de leur collecte, le visiteur est invité à explorer les aspects majeurs de la culture humaniste de la Renaissance : le rôle fondateur joué au XIVe siècle par Pétrarque et sa bibliothèque ; la redécouverte des textes antiques et la tâche de leur diffusion par la copie manuscrite, le travail d’édition, la traduction ; l’évolution du goût et des formes artistiques qu’entraîne une connaissance toujours plus étendue du legs de l’Antiquité ; la promotion nouvelle de la dignité de l’être humain et des valeurs propres à sa puissance d’action et de création, telles que le programme humaniste de célébration des hommes illustres les exalte.

Tout au long du parcours, manuscrits magnifiquement calligraphiés et enluminés et livres imprimés à la mise en page et l’illustration renouvelées par des modèles empruntés à l’Antiquité sont replacés dans le dialogue que l’art du livre de la Renaissance ne cesse d’entretenir avec l’ensemble des arts plastiques et visuels du temps : peinture et sculpture, art de la médaille et de la reliure, gravure et dessin.

La culture des lettres promue par les humanistes est ainsi réunie au culte de la beauté par lequel ils entendaient créer les conditions propices à l’établissement d’un rapport neuf et toujours plus étroit avec la culture de l’Antiquité : un rapport qui ne faisait pas seulement de la civilisation antique une matière d’étude mais aussi l’objet d’une véritable « renaissance », qui n’envisageait pas seulement cette civilisation comme un monde de connaissances historiques mais aussi comme un monde de valeurs toujours actuelles, de manière à accomplir la promesse d’humanité contenue dans le mot même d’humanisme.

Une scénographie sobre, au service des oeuvres et de leur mise en relation, met à profit les volumes de la galerie Mansart de la BnF Richelieu, pour enchaîner dans l’unité d’un récit les cinq grands chapitres de l’exposition. Ils conduisent du XIVe au milieu du XVIe siècle, tout en suivant l’ordre thématique que leurs titres indiquent : « Le studiolo » ; « Pétrarque et la naissance de l’humanisme » ; « De l’étude de l’Antiquité au goût de l’antique » ; « Le savoir et la gloire » ; « De la bibliothèque humaniste à la bibliothèque princière ».

Holbein. Burgkmair. Dürer. Renaissance in the North

Holbein. Burgkmair. Dürer. Renaissance in the North

Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

19 March to 30 June 2024

The Kunsthistorisches Museum Vienna’s 2024 spring exhibition “Holbein. Burgkmair. Dürer. Renaissance in the North” is devoted to three outstanding pioneers of the Renaissance north of the Alps: Hans Holbein the Elder, Hans Burgkmair, and Albrecht Dürer. It offers a golden opportunity to experience fascinating works by these artists and to explore how Augsburg became the birthplace of the Northern Renaissance. 

At the beginning of the sixteenth century, Augsburg – dominated by the hugely wealthy banking family of the Fuggers – was influenced by the art of Italy more than almost any other city north of the Alps. That this was the case is vividly demonstrated by the two most important Augsburg painters of the period: Hans Holbein the Elder (c.1464–1524) and Hans Burgkmair (1473–1531). In the Vienna exhibition, select works by these two very contrasting artists enter into a stimulating dialogue with works by Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528) and further German, Italian, and Netherlandish masters, notably the Augsburg-born Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/98–1543). The exhibition in Vienna showcases more than 160 paintings, sculptures and other works from many of the most important collections of Europe and the United States of America.

Portrait of a Young Man (1506), Hans Burgkmair the Elder (German, 1473 – 1531), 41x28cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

The upheavals in art around 1500 are brought to life and elucidated, as is the role of the imperial trading city of Augsburg as the centre of the Renaissance in the North.

Albrecht Dürer exhibition

Albertina, Vienna
20 September 2019 – 6 January 2020

Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528), “Hare” (1502), Watercolor on Paper, 25x23cm, Albertina, Vienna.

With its nearly 140 works by Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528), the Albertina Museum in Vienna is home to the world’s largest and most important collection of drawings by this artist. This exhibition also includes valuable international loan works in order to present Dürer’s drawn, printed, and painted oeuvres as equally great artistic achievements. And with reference to the distinctive works on exhibit, the exhibition also offers insights into the latest research findings.

The works by Albrecht Dürer at the Albertina are of particular interest in terms of the collection’s history: their provenance can be traced back to the year of the artist’s death in an unbroken line. The museum thus holds a group of works from the artist’s own workshop that have been together for nearly 500 years. Prominent here are Dürer’s family portraits, his famous studies of animals and plants, and his head, hand, and clothing studies on colored paper. The Albertina’s Dürer collection thus offers the ideal starting point from which to reconstruct the activities of Dürer’s workshop and also explore this artist’s personal, early humanist notion of art.

(From the museum’s website)

Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528), “Praying Hands” (1508), Pen-and-Ink Drawing on Paper, 29x20cm, Albertina, Vienna.

Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528)

Albrecht Dürer  (1471–1528), “Saint Jerome” (1521), Oil on Panel, 60x48cm, Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, Lissabon.

On the 21st of May, 1471, birth of Albrecht Dürer, painter, drawer and printmaker, and one of the key artists of the Northern Renaissance.  Dürer’s printmaking has been of immense influence on generations of painters, all of whom had printmakers copy their works in prints, to be able to distribute their art. Dürer was born in Nuremberg, Germany, where his father was a successful goldsmith. He made a few trips to Italy and contributed greatly to the exchange of knowledge and skills between the Italian and Northern Renaissance. Back in Germany Dürer dedicated himself to printmaking, mainly woodcuts and engravings, turning printmaking into an art of its own right. Dürer is considered one of the most famous artists of his time.

Here is Dürer’s painting of Saint Jerome. It’s more a portrait of an old wise man and only little details like the inkpot and bookrest remind us that this is a scholar sitting in his study. Saint Jerome was a Christian theologian, best known for his translation of the Bible into Latin. But look how he is pointing at the skull. Saint Jerome reminds us of our mortality and the vanity of earthly life and goods.

The Albertina in Vienna keeps four of Dürer’s preparatory sketches for the painting; see hereunder. Dürer’s handwritten note on the drawing of the Saint Jerome’s head, gives us information about the model: “The man was 93 years old and still healthy”. The three other sketches are details of the painting, all brush drawings on gray violet primed paper highlighted in white tempera, and from 1521, Fotos: © Albertina, Vienna.

Durer,_study_of_a_man,_aged_93
Albrecht Dürer  (1471–1528), “Study of a Man Aged 93” (1521), 42x28cm, Albertina, Vienna.