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Lot Essay
Today, the first state of Rembrandt’s greatest, most daring and challenging print, ‘The Three Crosses’, exists in eighteen impressions only, fifteen of which are printed on vellum. Of the known examples, all but the present one and a much smaller fragment in the Hoehn Collection in San Diego are in public collections. The magnificent, albeit trimmed, present impression thus offers the last opportunity to acquire this masterpiece of European printmaking in its earliest iteration.
Vellum - also referred to as parchment - was not only the most luxurious and costly support. Printing on animal skin, far less absorbent than European and even Japanese papers, allowed Rembrandt to create pictorial effects unique to this material. As the ink does not sink in, the image seems to hover on the surface and appears ethereal, almost elusive, thereby heightening the viewer’s sense of witnessing a dramatic event as it unfolds or experiencing a fleeting vision. For reasons impossible to ascertain, this sheet was substantially trimmed at upper left and right, thereby losing the darkly shaded, but largely empty upper parts of the sky. The head of the thief at right is the only figurative element of the composition that, as a result, has been lost. Perhaps the most likely explanation for the reduction of the sheet to this unusual shape is that the upper sides of the sheet were simply too crinkly and unsightly. As can be seen at the upper centre where the sheet is darkened along the rear spine, the upper sides were the parts of the skin that once covered the hind legs of the goat or sheep. These sections are inevitably more uneven than the rest of the sheet, and some of the natural folds of the skin can still be seen at the upper edges. It is possible that, as a result, the printing in these areas was too uneven from the beginning or that the folds and warping at the sheet corners became so distracting that an early owner of the print decided to cut them off.
Few prints in European art history are of equal importance and so unanimously admired as Rembrandt’s Christ crucified between the two Thieves, commonly known as The Three Crosses. Most multi-figure Calvary scenes, popular in the Netherlands in the 15th and 16th century but no longer in Rembrandt’s time, allowed the viewer to calmly observe the scene from the outside. Perhaps inspired by Lucas van Leyden's engraving of the subject, firmly rooted in this tradition, Rembrandt by contrast decided to throw us into the midst of the event as it unfolds. His print is a turmoil of light and darkness, of hard, straight lines and dense crosshatching, of highly worked details and loosely sketched, seemingly unfinished passages, all adding to a sense of movement and immediacy, to invoke an almost cinematic experience. Frederik Schmidt-Degener, director of the Rijksmuseum from 1922-1941, summarised the achievement of this work thus: 'Only once, in Rembrandt’s vision, has the Christian imagination truly dwelt on Golgatha.' (F. Schmidt-Degener, quoted in: Eeles/ Hoehn, 2015, p. 11). Other scholars and print connoisseurs have, from different perspectives, expressed the importance of this work no less emphatically.
According to Holm Bevers, ‘Rembrandt’s psychologically penetrating study of terrified humanity has no equal in the iconography of Calvary’ (Bevers, 1991, p. 264); James Ganz felt that ‘the death of Christ on the cross has never been depicted with such graphic intensity or raw expressive force’ (Ganz, 2013, p. 133); Nicholas Stogdon considered it ‘the most celebrated of all prints’ (Stogdon, 2011 p. 71); and Adrian Eeles called it ‘an unforgettable masterpiece of print-making’ (Eeles, 2015, p. 50). For Erik Hinterding ‘this monumental print is one of the highlights of his etched oeuvre and a key point in the history of the graphic arts.’ (Bikker, 2014, p. 159).
The year of its creation, 1653, was a difficult year for Rembrandt and for Holland, as the dispute with his former maid and lover Geertje Dircks rumbled on, and the Anglo-Dutch War (1652-1654) put an enormous strain on the economy of the country, gravely affecting the demand for luxury goods and art commissions. It was at this point that Rembrandt embarked on the creation of his most ambitious and demanding print in subject, technique and size. He decided to depict the pivotal event of Christianity, to do it entirely in drypoint, and on a scale never before attempted.
Of the four gospels, Rembrandt followed Saint Luke’s account most closely:
And when they were come to the place, which is Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots. And the people stood beholding. … And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly, this was a righteous man. And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts, and returned. (Luke 23; 33-48)
The composition is divided quite evenly into three parts, horizontally and vertically. The upper third is entirely taken up by the sky, dark towards the sides and bright at the centre, where an intense light falls in shafts from above. In the middle section are the three crosses, with Christ slightly off-centre to the right. His body has sunk deep below the crossbeam, His eyes are closed, the mouth half open. We see His ribcage and thin, stretched abdomen. A loincloth is wrapped around His waist, the feet are nailed next to each other to the Cross. To the right below, we see a group of mourners, including Mary Magdalene clutching the foot of the Cross. Saint John stands behind her, his hands raised to his head in despair. Below him on the ground, the fainting Virgin is consoled and supported by a group of women around her. Further to the right stands the cross of one of the thieves, bathed in light. His body is painfully bent over the crossbeam, with his arms pulled back and down, tied to the trunk. The centurion mentioned by Luke has dismounted his horse and cast off his helmet, as he kneels with his outstretched arms raised, facing the figure of Christ. The pose of the centurion derives from a 16th century engraving, which Rembrandt may have had in his collection. This is the moment of his conversion, as Christ has just breathed his last breath, the apex of the Passion, the turning point of the work of Redemption.
To the left of Christ are two Roman cavalry soldiers on horseback, one with a tall lance, the other pointing his sword at Christ’s thigh. Further to the left stands the cross with the second thief, his face and body partially shaded. Below him, a foot soldier is leading the centurion’s horse away. Towards the left edge, Rembrandt has placed a group of soldiers with a raised standard and lances, including a commander on horseback and a man reaching with a staff and sponge towards the good thief. In the lower left third of the sheet another small crowd of mourners has turned away, about to leave the cruel scene, including a bareheaded man, presumably Simon of Cyrene. Two women have fallen to the ground in panic or despair, a running dog adds to the sense of tumult and chaos. The lower centre is dominated by two figures, presumably Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, hurrying towards a cave in the lower right corner - the future tomb of Christ, where the two men will bury Him.
To create this astonishing print, Rembrandt employed the drypoint method, whereby the design is scratched directly into the plate rather than etched into the copper by acid. In the process, small barbs of metal are raised alongside the scratched lines, creating rough ridges. When the plate is inked up, the ink gets caught in these barbed ridges, resulting in deeply black, velvety lines and blurred areas, an effect called ‘burr’. It is astonishing to observe with what virtuosity Rembrandt employed the drypoint technique to its full potential on such a monumental scale. As a result, The Three Crosses has the immediacy and spontaneity of a drawing. ‘As far as we know, with the possible exception of two small sketches for individual figures, he worked directly on the plate without the aid of compositional drawings. His control and mastery were such that no preparation on paper was necessary. For him, drypoint became another tool for drawing.’ (White, 1999, p. 81).
The Three Crosses exists in five states. In print-making terms, a change in ‘state’ denotes a deliberate alteration to the plate and consequently to the printed image. The present first state of The Three Crosses already shows the complete composition, no unfinished proofs exist. The second state differs from the first only in that Rembrandt added a few lines of shading at the right sheet edge, and the intensity of the burr already began to wane. As a result, in the third state Rembrandt strengthened the shading here and there, and he darkened the face of Simon of Cyrene. At this point Rembrandt considered the print finished, and signed and dated the plate at the lower centre left: Rembrandt.f.1653. Impressions of the third state are generally more cleanly wiped than those of the first two states. All of the second and most of the third state impressions were printed on European paper. In the fourth state, completed two years later in 1655, Rembrandt famously transformed the image completely instead of reworking it, as the drypoint began to disappear. He scraped and burnished off much of the previous design, removed many figures, added some, and obscured much of the plate with long and heavy, vertical lines of shading, leaving only the central section slightly brighter. James Ganz described this state as ‘a tour de force of draftsmanship and printmaking in which emotion eclipses intelligibility.’ (Ganz, 2013, p. 133). Finally, the Amsterdam printer Frans Carelse (d. 1683) acquired the plate, engraved it with his name, and printed a small number of impressions of the fifth and final state. (For the most recent census of impressions, please see: Bikker, 2014, p. 159-60.).
The present impression comes from the legendary holdings of the 18th-century English painter, antiquarian and connoisseur Arthur Pond (1701-1758), whose Rembrandt collection was, according to Nicholas Stogdon, ‘one of the finest ever made’ (Stogdon p. 367). This spectacular impression is the closest one can get to looking over the artist’s shoulder as he scratched and drew with the needle onto this huge copper plate to create his most audacious, expressive, experimental and dramatic print - in Christopher White’s words ‘one of Rembrandt’s most moving work in any medium’ (White, 1999, p. 88).
Vellum - also referred to as parchment - was not only the most luxurious and costly support. Printing on animal skin, far less absorbent than European and even Japanese papers, allowed Rembrandt to create pictorial effects unique to this material. As the ink does not sink in, the image seems to hover on the surface and appears ethereal, almost elusive, thereby heightening the viewer’s sense of witnessing a dramatic event as it unfolds or experiencing a fleeting vision. For reasons impossible to ascertain, this sheet was substantially trimmed at upper left and right, thereby losing the darkly shaded, but largely empty upper parts of the sky. The head of the thief at right is the only figurative element of the composition that, as a result, has been lost. Perhaps the most likely explanation for the reduction of the sheet to this unusual shape is that the upper sides of the sheet were simply too crinkly and unsightly. As can be seen at the upper centre where the sheet is darkened along the rear spine, the upper sides were the parts of the skin that once covered the hind legs of the goat or sheep. These sections are inevitably more uneven than the rest of the sheet, and some of the natural folds of the skin can still be seen at the upper edges. It is possible that, as a result, the printing in these areas was too uneven from the beginning or that the folds and warping at the sheet corners became so distracting that an early owner of the print decided to cut them off.
Few prints in European art history are of equal importance and so unanimously admired as Rembrandt’s Christ crucified between the two Thieves, commonly known as The Three Crosses. Most multi-figure Calvary scenes, popular in the Netherlands in the 15th and 16th century but no longer in Rembrandt’s time, allowed the viewer to calmly observe the scene from the outside. Perhaps inspired by Lucas van Leyden's engraving of the subject, firmly rooted in this tradition, Rembrandt by contrast decided to throw us into the midst of the event as it unfolds. His print is a turmoil of light and darkness, of hard, straight lines and dense crosshatching, of highly worked details and loosely sketched, seemingly unfinished passages, all adding to a sense of movement and immediacy, to invoke an almost cinematic experience. Frederik Schmidt-Degener, director of the Rijksmuseum from 1922-1941, summarised the achievement of this work thus: 'Only once, in Rembrandt’s vision, has the Christian imagination truly dwelt on Golgatha.' (F. Schmidt-Degener, quoted in: Eeles/ Hoehn, 2015, p. 11). Other scholars and print connoisseurs have, from different perspectives, expressed the importance of this work no less emphatically.
According to Holm Bevers, ‘Rembrandt’s psychologically penetrating study of terrified humanity has no equal in the iconography of Calvary’ (Bevers, 1991, p. 264); James Ganz felt that ‘the death of Christ on the cross has never been depicted with such graphic intensity or raw expressive force’ (Ganz, 2013, p. 133); Nicholas Stogdon considered it ‘the most celebrated of all prints’ (Stogdon, 2011 p. 71); and Adrian Eeles called it ‘an unforgettable masterpiece of print-making’ (Eeles, 2015, p. 50). For Erik Hinterding ‘this monumental print is one of the highlights of his etched oeuvre and a key point in the history of the graphic arts.’ (Bikker, 2014, p. 159).
The year of its creation, 1653, was a difficult year for Rembrandt and for Holland, as the dispute with his former maid and lover Geertje Dircks rumbled on, and the Anglo-Dutch War (1652-1654) put an enormous strain on the economy of the country, gravely affecting the demand for luxury goods and art commissions. It was at this point that Rembrandt embarked on the creation of his most ambitious and demanding print in subject, technique and size. He decided to depict the pivotal event of Christianity, to do it entirely in drypoint, and on a scale never before attempted.
Of the four gospels, Rembrandt followed Saint Luke’s account most closely:
And when they were come to the place, which is Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots. And the people stood beholding. … And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly, this was a righteous man. And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts, and returned. (Luke 23; 33-48)
The composition is divided quite evenly into three parts, horizontally and vertically. The upper third is entirely taken up by the sky, dark towards the sides and bright at the centre, where an intense light falls in shafts from above. In the middle section are the three crosses, with Christ slightly off-centre to the right. His body has sunk deep below the crossbeam, His eyes are closed, the mouth half open. We see His ribcage and thin, stretched abdomen. A loincloth is wrapped around His waist, the feet are nailed next to each other to the Cross. To the right below, we see a group of mourners, including Mary Magdalene clutching the foot of the Cross. Saint John stands behind her, his hands raised to his head in despair. Below him on the ground, the fainting Virgin is consoled and supported by a group of women around her. Further to the right stands the cross of one of the thieves, bathed in light. His body is painfully bent over the crossbeam, with his arms pulled back and down, tied to the trunk. The centurion mentioned by Luke has dismounted his horse and cast off his helmet, as he kneels with his outstretched arms raised, facing the figure of Christ. The pose of the centurion derives from a 16th century engraving, which Rembrandt may have had in his collection. This is the moment of his conversion, as Christ has just breathed his last breath, the apex of the Passion, the turning point of the work of Redemption.
To the left of Christ are two Roman cavalry soldiers on horseback, one with a tall lance, the other pointing his sword at Christ’s thigh. Further to the left stands the cross with the second thief, his face and body partially shaded. Below him, a foot soldier is leading the centurion’s horse away. Towards the left edge, Rembrandt has placed a group of soldiers with a raised standard and lances, including a commander on horseback and a man reaching with a staff and sponge towards the good thief. In the lower left third of the sheet another small crowd of mourners has turned away, about to leave the cruel scene, including a bareheaded man, presumably Simon of Cyrene. Two women have fallen to the ground in panic or despair, a running dog adds to the sense of tumult and chaos. The lower centre is dominated by two figures, presumably Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, hurrying towards a cave in the lower right corner - the future tomb of Christ, where the two men will bury Him.
To create this astonishing print, Rembrandt employed the drypoint method, whereby the design is scratched directly into the plate rather than etched into the copper by acid. In the process, small barbs of metal are raised alongside the scratched lines, creating rough ridges. When the plate is inked up, the ink gets caught in these barbed ridges, resulting in deeply black, velvety lines and blurred areas, an effect called ‘burr’. It is astonishing to observe with what virtuosity Rembrandt employed the drypoint technique to its full potential on such a monumental scale. As a result, The Three Crosses has the immediacy and spontaneity of a drawing. ‘As far as we know, with the possible exception of two small sketches for individual figures, he worked directly on the plate without the aid of compositional drawings. His control and mastery were such that no preparation on paper was necessary. For him, drypoint became another tool for drawing.’ (White, 1999, p. 81).
The Three Crosses exists in five states. In print-making terms, a change in ‘state’ denotes a deliberate alteration to the plate and consequently to the printed image. The present first state of The Three Crosses already shows the complete composition, no unfinished proofs exist. The second state differs from the first only in that Rembrandt added a few lines of shading at the right sheet edge, and the intensity of the burr already began to wane. As a result, in the third state Rembrandt strengthened the shading here and there, and he darkened the face of Simon of Cyrene. At this point Rembrandt considered the print finished, and signed and dated the plate at the lower centre left: Rembrandt.f.1653. Impressions of the third state are generally more cleanly wiped than those of the first two states. All of the second and most of the third state impressions were printed on European paper. In the fourth state, completed two years later in 1655, Rembrandt famously transformed the image completely instead of reworking it, as the drypoint began to disappear. He scraped and burnished off much of the previous design, removed many figures, added some, and obscured much of the plate with long and heavy, vertical lines of shading, leaving only the central section slightly brighter. James Ganz described this state as ‘a tour de force of draftsmanship and printmaking in which emotion eclipses intelligibility.’ (Ganz, 2013, p. 133). Finally, the Amsterdam printer Frans Carelse (d. 1683) acquired the plate, engraved it with his name, and printed a small number of impressions of the fifth and final state. (For the most recent census of impressions, please see: Bikker, 2014, p. 159-60.).
The present impression comes from the legendary holdings of the 18th-century English painter, antiquarian and connoisseur Arthur Pond (1701-1758), whose Rembrandt collection was, according to Nicholas Stogdon, ‘one of the finest ever made’ (Stogdon p. 367). This spectacular impression is the closest one can get to looking over the artist’s shoulder as he scratched and drew with the needle onto this huge copper plate to create his most audacious, expressive, experimental and dramatic print - in Christopher White’s words ‘one of Rembrandt’s most moving work in any medium’ (White, 1999, p. 88).