The History of Art History. Udo Kultermann

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Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation

The History of


The History of



Thomas J. Bata Library




* Mt


Copyright ©1993 by Abaris Books, Inc. International Standard Book Number 0-89835-055-7 Printed in the United States of America Anthony S. Kaufmann, Publisher Elizabeth A. Pratt, Managing Editor Tomoko Shimura, Designer All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form and by any means (beyond that copying permitted by Section 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviews for the public press) without written permission from the publisher.










Artists' Histories


Poussin and the French Academy



Art in the Enlightenment



The Laocoon Debate


Winckelmann's Revolution


Toward an Historical Discipline


Goethe as Art Historian


Art History in Romanticism


Rumohr and the Berlin School


Jakob Burckhardt and the Renaissance




Reality and Method


Art History in the Griinderzeit



The Dresden Holbein Debate



Impressionist Aesthetics


The Vienna School


The Discovery of Form


Art History at the Turn of the Century


Art History of Expressionism


The Founding of Iconology


Foundations of Art History Today


The Image of the Art Historian




Suggestions for Further Reading








rH xtant writing about art dates back to classical antiquity, but art historiography as a ^ ^real institution began in the mid-sixteenth century with the publication of Lives of the Most Eminent Italian Architects, Painters and Sculptors by Giorgio Vasari. Two centuries later, Johann Joachim Winckelmann lay the intellectual foundations on which, after another two centuries, art history and classical studies continue to build. Advances in modem scholarship do nothing to displace or disqualify the supreme achievements of the older literature. The excellence of the classical texts is proven, in fact, by the way they manage always to transcend their own outworn factual premises. It is in that sense that Karl Vossler could speak of Jakob Burckhardt's writings as "scholarly works of art." This book is an attempt to present just such enduring achievements in the literature of art history, and to trace its evolution, from inception to maturity to the early founda¬ tions of present-day scholarship, as a vital, passionate odyssey of the mind. It differs from most histories of its kind in its intent to spare the non-specialist reader the inconvenience of technical terminology, cumbersome notes, and other annotations, without sacrificing comprehensiveness. It also differs from other historical surveys in its goal to set the various periods of art historiography within their contemporary artistic context. In this it follows a principle that the scholar Heinrich Wolfflin posited in 1914: that art and "the history of art" have parallel developments. Thus the book is organized according to the movements and eras of art itself, for it is always the great artists of an age who alter the image of the past, and their revisions shape the views of art historians as well. Each new present is infinite and elastic, the past it encompasses always malleable. The task of art history, then, is to guard the vitality, the viability, of art's ever-shifting status, to see art in new ways, and in contemporary terms.

General aesthetics, theory, and philosophy of art figure in the book only minimally, where they can clarify specific phases and issues in art history. The history of museums and the key figures and methodologies of recent decades are touched upon briefly, but it is still too soon to evaluate the transformations that the field is currently experiencing. The present work attempts to portray the singular history of a discipline whose object has always been in flux, however stable it may appear. Ideally, the unprejudiced reader would come away from it with a sense that art is something in perpetual renewal. It is a book, in other words, about specialists for non-specialists. I realize that I am steering be¬ tween Scylla and Charybdis, hoping to satisfy the conflicting demands that accompany any general survey. And so I ask the indulgence of both types of readers: the non-historian for the moments at which the reading bogs down in dull facts; the professionals when the


facts themselves seem too scant. In any case I welcome criticism and correction from both groups in the hope they can contribute to some more adequate future account. The history of art history should be chronicled as that of a field no less historically conditioned, no less subject to changing human needs, than art itself. With G.W.F. Hegel's characterization of history in mind, one could say that the study of the history of art is the study of art itself. Perhaps it will one day be quite obvious that the study of art of the past and present is really an investigation of the needs and demands of the present moment; that art and the history of art are interdependent. The author Italo Svevo aptly defined history as the changing account of change, the lively pursuit of a living thing, as ruled by living forces as life itself. "The past," wrote Svevo, "is always new. Seemingly forgotten parts of it can suddenly reemerge, while those that seemed essential fall away. The past is an orchestra that the present conducts."



wish to thank all my colleagues who over the last three decades have supported my work on this book. It would not have been possible without such cooperation and col¬ laboration. Numerous scholars have generously contributed their knowledge, support, and criticism, and I would especially like to thank the following: Michael V. Alpatovl, Svetlana Alpers, Stanford Anderson, Giulio Carlo ArganL Kurt BadP, Jurgis BaltrusaitisL Alfred H. BarrL Kurt Baucfd, Quentin BelP, Hans Belting, Kunibert Bering, Gertrude Berthold, Jan BiaJostockP, Oto Bihalji-Merin, Rudolf M. Bisanz, Gottfried Boehm, J.E. von Borries, Norman Bryson, Erich Burger, Andre ChasteB, Heinrich Dilly, Gillo Dorfles, Lorenz E.A. Eitner, Albert E. Elsen, Lili Fehrle-Burger, Gerhard Frey, Mary D. Garrard, Kurt Gerstenberg, Siegfied Giedionp Carola Giedion-WelckeH, Jorge Glusberg, E.H. Gombrich, Dan Grigorescu, Kurt W. Foster, Sydney J. Freedberg, Hans R. Hahnloser, William S. Heckscher, Carl Georg Heisep Julius S. Held, Eberhard Hempel, Philip Hendy, Klaus Herding, George L. Hersey, Werner Hofmann, Vera Horvat, Johannes Jahn, J.M. Joosten, Tsunemichi Kambayashi, Kunioki Katsu, Wolfgang Kemp, Richard Krautheimer, Carol Herselle Krinsky, George Kubler, Margarete Kuhn, Heinz Ladendorf, Lars Olof Larsson, Lucy Lippard, Merzy Miziolek, Alfred NeumeyerT, Linda Nochlin, Jan K. Ostrowski, Takao Ota, Rozsika Parker, Rodolfo Pallucchini, Roberto Pane, Erwin PanofskyL Franco Passoni, Nikolaus PevsnerL Griselda Pollock, Frank Popper, Paolo Portoghesi, Donald Prezoisi, Carlo Ludovico Ragghianti, Deoclezio Redig de Campos, John Rewaldp Helen Rosenaup Robert Rosenblum, Willibald Sauerlander, Meyer Schapiro, Heinz Schmalenbach, Seymour Slive, Leo Steinberg, Gert SchifP, Eduard Sekler, John David Summers, Hanns Swarzenski, Ernst Ullmann, Virgil Vatasianu, Stephan Waetzoldt, Kurt Weitzmann, Rudolf WittkoweP, Hilde Zaloacser, and Henri Zemer. I also wish to acknowledge the help of Virginia Peckham, Gabrielle Brasse, and Kristina Meyer at Abaris Books. The organization and evaluation of the material are exclusively my own, as are any omissions and mistakes. U.K.



THE POSITION OF THE ARTIST IN GREEK SOCIETY The Creeks chattered about painters quite as much as people do nowadays, and had their salons, and shilling exhibitions, and Arts and Crafts guilds, and Pre-Raphaelite movements, and movements towards realism, and lectures about art, and wrote essays on art, and produced their art-historians, and their archaeologists, and all the rest of it. Oscar Wilde


f course, Oscar Wilde's words have little to do with historical fact. Discussion about art and art history arose extremely late in Greece, and until then major Greek thinkers

had scant respect for artists themselves. Surviving texts show that well into the fifth century and later the artist was simply considered a banausos — literally, an artisan, a man whose work was much admired but who himself stood far below the philosopher, orator, or trage¬ dian in social rank — on a level, in fact, with barbers, cooks, and smiths. The very necessity of manual labor robbed the artist of spirituality. The work of art was viewed not as a pro¬ duct of human creativity, but as something god-inspired: its execution was considered a lowly task, like that of any other trade. Art historian Bernhard Schweitzer has convincingly documented this basic attitude, and only recently has Hanna Philipp made some alterations.1 The extant fragments of the writings of Democritus (ca. 460-370 b.c.) offer a surpris¬ ingly early exception to the rule, however, historically classifying and ranking individual works of all sorts, from the very primitive to the very complex, and thus challenging the notion that the statues, temples, and palaces of his homeland were strictly "acts of God." Socrates (469/470-399 b.c.), who once worked as a sculptor but abandoned the pro¬ fession out of disdain for it, on the whole found art insignificant; yet in Xenophon's versions of his dialogues with the painter Parrhasius and the sculptor Kleiton, Socrates also lays claim to being a competent art critic.

PLATO'S VERDICT Plato (427-347


figures quite prominently in the shaping of Greek attitudes towards

art, as he was directly concerned with the art of his age.2 While he certainly left us no com¬ prehensive theory of art, Plato nevertheless at various times in his life was deeply involved with contemporary art as well as with art of the immediate past. In the Laws he establishes three tasks for the critic: to identify subject matter, to decide the justness of the representa¬ tion at hand, and to judge quality of execution. Yet in his old age Plato grew increasingly intolerant of art, especially of the new illusionism of his contemporaries such as Scopas and Praxiteles, and he went so far as to label



all art dangerous and contemptible. Surprisingly, he had great admiration for Egyptian art, which was dominated by geometrical '"beautiful forms" without many altera¬ tions. The artist as magician or mimic earned, in Plato's opinion, an inferior place in society, as the copier of a copy — the mere material traces of the realm of forms. In his later years Plato abandoned all analysis of individual artists; all allusion to artists, so common in the early dialogues, vanished in his late writings, which reach the dour conclusion that "it is no loss never to have thought about painting." The Sophist philosopher Gorgias of Leontini (483-375 b.c.) opposed the theories of Socrates and Plato and advocated the use of illusion as one of the legimate elements of art. The attitude toward artists changed with Aristotle (384-323



acknowledged the social function of art; yet he too, with some notable exceptions, considered the artist only an artisan. Only those artists who had begun to theorize Plato

about their craft could claim a higher social position. Still, the prevailing opinion of the artist in antiquity was summed up by Plutarch: "Much as we admire the work of art, we cannot help but scorn its creator."

XENOCRATES OF ATHENS Given these circumstances, how could the study of art history develop, much less thrive? Presumably any such tendency would have proved abortive, unworthy of consideration — and yet there did exist at least a small body of literature on the history of art.3 Though the bulk of it is lost to us or survives only in the distorted versions of Pliny and other Romans, what remains points toward one clearly major figure, Xenocrates of Athens (396-314


Xenocrates, a sculptor who studied with a pupil of Lysippus, was called by Bernhard Schweitzer — probably stretching the point — "the father of art history." However sweeping that claim might sound, it is true that Xenocrates stood at the dawn of art-historical inquiry and that his lost writings announced an entirely new category of thought about art. Draw¬ ing on the historical schemas of Democritus and his school, Xenocrates focused his interest on realism in art of his own day. Far from approaching art vaguely or without precision, Xenocrates introduced a dynamic system of four interdependent categories: symmetry, or what we might call the proportion of a work; rhythm; quality of workmanship; and what Bernhard Schweitzer referred to as "the optic problem." With this nexus of categories Xenocrates attempted to grasp the en¬ tire development of art, which he saw as a history of artistic problems.

EARLY BIOGRAPHIES AND TRAVEL GUIDES Other attempts at art-historical writing in the age of Xenocrates tended to be very unsystematic, random groupings of painters and sculptors of quite disparate talent, which often relied on apocryphal information. Duris of Samos (ca. 340-260


was probably the first to

compile such a collection of biographies. Passages of his work preserved in the writings of Pliny suggest that this devotee of art, the ruler of Samos, was already acting as a mediator between the artist and his public. Literary descriptions of paintings, already known in Homer, culminated in the writings of Flavius Philostratus the Elder (ca. in the third century a.d.5



165-245) and of Callistratus


In addition to biographies of artists and descriptions of paintings, extensive travel literature was written about the most important cities of Greece. In the first century b.c., for instance, Pasiteles, a Hellenistic sculptor working in Rome, wrote a book on the major art works of Greece, thereby fueling the already strong Roman passion for collecting Greek art, status symbols soon supplied in the form of directly commissioned copies. In the second century a.d., Pausanias wrote the definitive guide on Greece for Roman tourists.6 Describing major cities in depth, the work also gave extensive accounts of individual works of art, and even today functions as a source of information on many lost masterpieces. An example is the following description of the legendary statue of the Athena Parthenos by Phidias: The figure of the goddess is made of ivory and gold. In the middle of her helmet there is the image of a sphinx and, on the sides, two griffins in relief... .Athena is upright, in a tunic draping down to her feet, with a Medusa's head in ivory on her breast. The statue of Victory that she holds in her left hand is about four cubits tall; in her right hand she holds a spear; at her feet lies a shield and near the spear there is a serpent. On the pedestal there is a relief depicting the birth of Pandora.7

PLINY THE ELDER Pliny the Elder, who died in the eruption of Vesuvius in


79, left us in books thirty-four

through thirty-six of his Historia Naturalis a veritable encyclopedia of Greek thought on art.8 In true classical fashion, Pliny subordinated his profiles of the great artists of antiquity to technical discussions of various stones, metals, and types of clay. He handed down the biographies and anecdotes of fifth- and fourth-century artists, which he knew from Greek sources. But in addition to this, Pliny transmitted an organic view of art that ultimately derived from Xenocrates: a cyclical metaphor of conception, growth, and decay that would dominate the entire Middle Ages, survive in the works of Giorgio Vasari, and, above all, make its way to }.]. Winckelmann. Transcending the older, purely mechanical accounts of isolated works, Pliny constructed a clear principle of underlying connections. In the writings of Cicero (106-43


and Quintilian


ca. 35-ca. 100), works of art are used as illustrative ex¬

amples by orators, and the parallels of style in the visual arts and in rhetoric are mutually illuminating. The resulting system adhered strongly to a fixed set of values, the "peaks" it charted fully conforming to classical notions of time and helping to explain and cast judgment on past and future developments. The fiction of a Golden Age was an indispensable feature of historical thought. As we have seen, antiquity was very rarely able to consider the intrinsic value of "the artistic." Among the few exceptions were Plato, Xenocrates, Vitruvius, and Chrysostom. Chrysostom, whose attitude ran counter to his contemporaries, was known to have written a eulogy on the artist Phidias, even drawing an analogy between the work of the artist and divine creation.9 With the possible exception of fragments from Xenocrates, art history as such did not exist in classical antiquity. To judge from the spirit of the age, it could not exist, any more than it could in the Middle Ages - which is not to say that the art in those vast ages failed to play an important part in communal life. 3


THE "AHISTORICAL" MIDDLE AGES During late antiquity emphasis shifted from the physical and mechanical concepts of art to a spiritual interpretation which culminated in the writings of Plotinus (2057-270) and Augustine (354-430). Augustine's major work in this context is De pulchro et apto, now lost, in which the art theories of late antiquity were continued. In his major later works, such as his Confessions and especially his City of God, Augustine created a new spiritual, Christian concept of art. In the sixth century, the court historian Procopius gave valuable details of Justinian's building activity but without supplying theoretical criteria for the ar¬ chitectural meaning of the buildings. In the Carolingian Renaissance, Alcuin (735-806), Einhard (7707-840), and Rabanus Maurus (780-856) tried to revive the knowledge of antiquity and integrate it into contemporary life. Bishop Bernard of Hildesheim (993-1022) continued these endeavors as a client and a builder, as did Abbot Suger (1081-1151) in his works and writings, especially in his book De consecratione, of 1144, about the rebuilding of his church at Saint-Denis. Medieval philosophers such as Robert Grosseteste (1168-1253), Vincent of Beauvais (ca. 1190-1264), and Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) were essential in articulating the role of art and architecture in the divine orders. In general the Middle Ages consistently maintained the antique view of the artist's role in society,10 with the difference that the artisan's skills now were enlisted in service to the church.11 Under such conditions, he could not view his own situation historically, and had to follow the prescribed route that Cennino Cennini (ca. 1370-ca. 1440) recounted for the development of the artist in his II libro dell'arte: Know that there ought not to be less time spent in learning than this: to begin as a shopboy studying for one year, to get practice in drawing on the little panel; next, to serve in a shop under some master to learn how to work at all the branches which pertain to our profession; and to stay and begin the working up of colors; and to learn to boil the sizes, and grind the gessos; and to get experience in gessoing anconas, and modeling and scraping them; gilding and stamping; for the space of a good six years. Then to get experience in painting, embellishing with mor¬ dants, making cloths of gold, getting practice in working on the wall, for six more years....12 No wonder that an artist's training did nothing to stimulate historical imagination, not for him or for anyone else then involved with art. Only rule books existed, technical manuals for studio work, and these rather early on. Lessing discovered in the library of Wolfenbiittel one such manual, the work of one Theophilus Presbyter (probably Roger of Helmarshausen), who is believed to have lived in Westphalia in the early part of the twelfth century and whose Schedula diversarium artium was probably one of the most widely consulted works in this genre. Another example of these extremely influential medieval guides is the sketchbook en¬ titled Livre de portraiture by the thirteenth-century French architect Villard d'Honnecourt.13 The book typifies medieval notions of form, especially in the theory of proportion, and offers extensive records of artistic and architectural practice.



NEW ITALIAN ART THEORY In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the Italian city-states, such as Florence and Siena, witnessed a shift in artistic sensibility, the beginning of which can be discerned in the writings of major poets: of Dante (1265-1321) on Cimabue and Giotto,14 and of Boccaccio (1313-1375), who twenty years after the death of Giotto was still able to feel the full impact of that painter's originality. Boccaccio began his assessment by contrasting the master with all his predecessors, who had been immersed in the Byzantine mosaic tradition. In addition, Boccaccio's Life of Dante became a model for artists' biographies in Italy. The sonnets of Petrarch (1304-1374) dedicated to his friend Simone Martini (ca. 1285-1344) also belong here. Petrarch celebrated the glories of antiquity, asking rhetorically: "What is all history beside the praise of Rome?" His enthusiasm bred a new era in historiography.15 Thus the artist became a central figure in literature, and painters and sculptors suddenly were used as vehicles for aesthetic debate.16 In one novella by Franco Sachetti, for instance, a round table of famous Florentines, including the artists Orcagna and Gaddi, tries to decide which contemporary artists might best qualify as heirs to Giotto.17 A guide to Florence published in 1351 or 1352, De origine civitatis Florentiae..., by the native-born Filippo Villani (13257-1405?), features profiles of artists' careers that are clearly influenced by Boccaccio. Villani lists a series of painters, such as Cimabue, Giotto, and Taddeo Gaddi; the systematic development found in Xenocrates and Pliny is absent.18 When Cennino Cennini wrote his Libro dell'arte around 1400, he discussed technical concerns along with more general aesthetic questions. Living more or less on the frontier between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, Cennini bore witness to the great aesthetic ferment that by about 1550 would bring a spate of biographies of artists which culminated in Giorgio Vasari's Le vite de piu eccellenti architettori, pittori e scultori italiani..., or the Vite, as it is now commonly known.19

ALBERTI AND GHIBERTI The early Renaissance in Italy, especially in Florence, brought a decisive change not only in the social standing of the artist but also in the study of art, which was increasingly directed towards history. The rediscovery of classical art had huge consequences for the appreciation of art in general. Theorists such as the Neoplatonist Marsilio Ficino (1433-1499) preached the importance of historical studies, stressing that the wisdom of millennia could be joined to more em¬ pirical knowledge.20 Classical art helped, at least in part, to free the artist from the strictures of church and crown, and learned artists such as Alberti and Ghiberti now took on an important function and commanded the respect of scholars. The great architect and theoretician Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472) in his writings approached art to some extent from an historical point of view: "De facto, if not quite de jure, so to speak, Alberti created the notion of an autonomous aesthetic realm, one which would take more than three centuries to be theoretically established, hotly contested all the while."21 His extremely influential treatise on painting, De pictura, was written in 1435; his book on sculpture, De statua, in 1465; and his De re aedificatoria was completed in

Leon Battista Alberti



1452. The last work, published posthumously in 1485, urged a return to the forms of Vitruvius and offered an entirely original theoretical view.22 De pictura had included a discussion of contemporary artists, for Alberti was convinced that after a long decline great artists were emerging again in the fifteenth century — among them Filippo Brunelleschi (to whom the work was dedicated), Donatello, Ghiberti, Luca della Robbia, and Masaccio. Comparing recent art with that of the classical age he so revered, Alberti wrote: I am sure that true greatness lies in our industry and diligence more than in nature or in the times. In this respect it was less difficult for the masters of antiquity, because they had models to imitate and from which they could learn, to arrive at a knowledge of those supreme arts that today are very difficult for us. But we who have found our way without teachers or models, how much more worthy we are of glory, founding arts and sciences hitherto unknown! The sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti (1378-1455), one generation older than Alberti, had a similar impact on his time.23 The historical criteria that he espoused went back to Pliny, Vitruvius, and other antique authors. In the first book of his three-volume I Commentarii (translated into German by Julius von Schlosser24), Ghiberti primarily used antique authors but added his own views. His second commentary was a critique of fourteenth-century artists, most of them Florentine. The third and largest section of his work concerned the theoretical basis of his approach, dealing with optics, the theory of proportion, and similar matters. Like Villani before him, Ghiberti set Giotto at the summit of a new development. Then, in a boldly original move, Ghiberti inserted his own career into the chronology, a precedent many later artist-authors, including Giorgio Vasari, Joachim von Sandrart, and Karel van Mander, would follow. Lorenzo Ghiberti

LEONARDO AND RAPHAEL As art history gained in importance, more and more attention was paid to its classical begin¬ nings. In 1473, Cristoforo Landino (died 1504) translated and edited the complete works of Pliny. In 1440 in Padua, Michele Savonarola, grandfather of the famous reformer, published a hymn to his native city which included a section on the artists living and working there. A similar work about Naples and its artists appeared in 1450. The author, Bartholomeus Facius, included many foreigners, among them Jan van Eyck and Rogier van der Weyden. Giovanni Santi, father of Raphael, published another such work on Urbino, shortly after 1482, describing the lives and works of Italian and Netherlandish painters living there. Artists themselves now turned increasingly to theoretical problems. Piero della Francesca, Francesco di Giorgio, Simone Martini, Pomponius Gauricus, and Luca Pacioli wrote on essential questions in art; Piero, for instance, referred to Euclid. Pacioli became a self-styled tutor to his peers, and considered his treatise De divina proportione (written in 1497, but published only in 1509) an exemplary work. The background of the book is very characteristic of the times, being the product of scientific discussions in a circle of artists to which Leonar¬ do also belonged.



It was not only as an architect, sculptor, and painter, but also as a naturalist and theoretician that Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) contributed so enormously to his age.25 His writings on art made an immediate impact, enhancing the status of art, especially of his preferred medium, painting. Art for Leonardo was a form of knowledge, a form of philosophy, and by treating it as such he set it on an entirely new plane. Although Leonardo did not really think historically, working instead from immediate experiences and studying nature scientifically, he was able to judge the art of the past and shed new light on artists like Giotto and Masaccio. By contrast, the significance of Antiquity receded for Leonardo, whose highest pri¬ ority was originality. He attributed the decline of art after Roman times to art¬ ists imitation of their masters rather than of nature. For him a new era began

Leonardo da Vinci

with Giotto, who no longer imitated his predecessor Cimabue but had learned to study nature directly. Yet Leonardo sensed another slump after Giotto, which he felt came about from depending on masters of earlier centuries rather than on nature. Raffaello Sanzio, called Raphael (1483-1520) was a more thorough stu¬ dent of art of the past than Leonardo. While continuing Bramante's work for Pope Leo X, Raphael drew up the first master plan for the restoration of ancient Rome, a project that archaeologists would be able to accomplish only centuries later.26 As Jakob Burckhardt pointed out: "With uncanny vision Raphael lay the groundwork for comparative art history, conceived as surveying work, and valid to this day: for each ruin in question he required a plan, an elevation, and a separate section drawing."27 Art historiography and archaeology did not begin in an idle age, but at a peak of creativity. Nothing less than artistic genius can renew our perception of the past.


DURER AND THE ART CHRONICLES OF NORTHERN EUROPE Interest in artistic theory and technique had increased in the North as well, and "italianate" chronicles on local artists began to appear. One of the main instigators was Albrecht Diirer (1471-1528), who like his Italian contemporaries, studied both antique art and the ancient forerunners of art historiography: "No need to write of how old this art is, who created it, how deeply the Greeks and the Romans reverenced it, what great skill the artists and craftsmen possessed— all that is told in Pliny and Vitruvius."28 Diirer's diary from his tour of the Netherlands, a document of great significance, not only records his reflections of the indigenous art of the past and present, but also describes the treasures brought from America by Cortez: "I saw the things brought back to the king from the new golden land_All of them so precious.. .and never in my life has anything so delighted me_How I marveled at the delicate ingenuity of men in remote climates." It was the first appreciation by a European of pre-Columbian art. Diirer also knew the plan of Tenochtitlan which had been published in Nuremberg in 1524, and was possibly influenced by it in writing his book Etliche Underricht zu Befestigung der Stett, Schloss und Flecken, published in 1527.29 In Holland he made a cogent evaluation of the work of the van Eycks, and likewise that of Rogier van der Weyden and Hugo van der Goes, both of whom he greatly admired. Writing about the painter Joachim Pa tinier he coined the term "landscape



painting," thus not only saying something apt about that particular artist, but about a genre that was not known before.30 In 1506, Christoph Scheurl (1481-1552) of Nuremberg had his book De laudibus Germaniae, on the artists of his native city, printed in Bologna. The work is clearly inspired by Diirer, who is ranked with the great artists of antiquity. Scheurl shared with the Italians the basic belief that art had reached a peak in antiquity, had gone dormant in the Middle Ages, and then was revived, so to speak, in his own backyard — Nuremberg.31 Another work, by Johann Neudorfer (1497-1564), similarly sought to chronicle recent art in the manner of Diirer.32 It appeared in 1547 as Nachrichten von Kiinstlem und Werkleuten.33 Neudorfer made his reputation, how¬ ever, mostly as a calligrapher. The Libellus de praeclaris picturae professoribus, published around 1505, was the work of Johannes Butzbach (1478-1526), prior of the abbey of Maria Laach.34 He dedicated it to a member of his order, the nun and painter Gertrud von Nonnenwerth. Butzbach also attempted a synoptic view of the development of art from antiquity to the present, but he dealt primarily with church painting.35

Albrecht Diirer

THE COMPETING ARTS The sixteenth century continued the ancient debate over the technical and social implications of the various forms and genres of art. Baldassare Castiglione (1478-1529) posed the ques¬ tion of their respective merits in his famous book II Cortegiano, published in 1528: "Many things can please our sight in equal measure, so much so that it would be well nigh impossible to tell which we should prefer."36 As evidence he cited the equal perfection of otherwise dissimilar artists such as (note Castiglione's impeccable choices) Leonardo, Mantegna, Raphael, Michelangelo, and Giorgione. Who could choose among them? Castiglione further recom¬ mended the hierarchy of the arts as a respectable topic for conversazioni. The theme, inexhaustible in the sixteenth century, would reappear several years later in the work of the important Florentine courtier Benedetto Varchi (1503-1565), an official funeral orator — the eulogist, for instance, of Michelangelo — and the author of Storia fiorentina (1527-38).37 In 1546 Varchi organized an opinion poll among Florentine artists concerning the relative merits of painting and sculpture. The responses, which still survive, came from the painters Bronzino and Vasari (who had not yet written the Vite) and the sculptors Benvenuto Cellini and Michelangelo, with the predictable result that each artist defended the medium that he worked in more naturally. The most interesting responses came from the two rivals Cellini and Vasari. While Cellini ardently championed sculpture on the grounds that it engaged not one, but eight, viewing planes, Vasari extolled the virtues of painting, adding that in principle it was better to paint a picture than to talk theoretically about the arts. Michelangelo replied in his characteristically terse way: "Painters and sculptors should call a truce on this issue, and put their time into their work." The one "non-artist" whom Varchi consulted, Pietro Aretino, flatly refused to involve himself in a question he con¬ sidered frivolous.


THE FIRST ART CRITIC Pietro Aretino (1492-1556), one of the most famous, and infamous, men of his age, lacked the usual humanist's training and defied both the rules of Renaissance poetics and humanism, preferring more immediate contact with individual works.38 His intuitive approach was en¬ tirely original for the age — as Aretino well knew — and if he flew in the face of convention, it was largely out of a conviction of his own genius (at age thirty-two he dubbed himself "il divino.") Like his contemporary Paolo Giovio, he acted as a middleman between artists and collectors, at considerable profit. A friend of Vasari since his youth, Aretino provided a good deal of material for the Vite and in 1542 he invited its author to Venice, where Vasari did the staging for Aretino's comedy La Talanta.39 Born in Arezzo, also the birthplace of Piero della Francesca and Vasari, Aretino spent his youth in Rome. In 1527 he moved to Venice, where he settled permanently. Burckhardt said of his literary career: "Aretino's pen kept the powers of all Italy in a state of siege."40 Half the country funded his all-too-visible extravagances: his banquets and celebrations, his rumored harem, and his unstinting love of art and music. Aretino's concept of art was shaped by his friendship with Titian and the sculptor Jacopo Sansovino. From them he learned a direct sensual perception of art. Karl Vossler accurately observed that Aretino was probably the first to see nature consciously with the eyes of a painter. Totally in contrast with prevailing attitudes, Aretino asserted, however rudimentally, the role of the unconscious in art. In his Letter to Pedants he writes: "It often happens that a true poet stumbles on something marvelous and true without ever having thought about it. We do well to compare them to those springs that pour forth vital, clear, refreshing water, never knowing how or why."

ARETINO AND MICHELANGELO Aretino had an important relationship with Michelangelo, whom he both admired and abused. In a letter of September 16,1537, Aretino praised the artist and shared with him his visions for on the completion of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. To this Michelangelo tactfully replied that the suggestions were unfortunately useless, since the work was almost finished. Aretino then paid him further tribute in a letter of November 24, 1537, and on January 30 of the next year he made a routine request for some of the master's drawings. Aretino had to remind Michelangelo several times, and it was not until April 1545 that Aretino wrote to confirm the receipt of the gift, which, incidentally, disappointed him. Aretino avenged himself in a written diatribe against the Last Judgment that had drastic consequences for Michelangelo, and indeed for contemporary painting in general. Aretino even had the audacity to attack the work on moral grounds, suddenly feigning piety and recoiling at the so-called license and indecency of the fresco. Years before, when only the ceiling has been finished. Pope Adrian VI (1522-1523) had voiced similar objections to the Sistine Chapel, terming it a "nude bathhouse" and ordering the scaffolding to be taken down.41 It is likely that Aretino remembered this incident and used it to his advantage. He pointed out that both Christ and Mary were painted in the nude and drew proper, or rather, improper conclusions. The ploy had its effect, and Michelangelo was forced to see the offending parts painted over. Twenty years later the furor over the Last Judgment had not died out. In 1564, Andrea Gilio da Fabriano vehemently attacked Michelangelo for having depicted Christ beardless.42


The clash between Michelangelo and Aretino had essentially been a power play be¬ tween artist and critic. Both figures were similar in having cut themselves loose from social constraints, moving as equals among popes and princes, but they had won their freedom by entirely different means. Art criticism realized its full if sometimes dangerous power in Aretino. What had begun as a defence of art works and their intentions, an apology on behalf of what had been created, now established itself as an independent power, which in future centuries showed itself to be a separate force, partly negative and partly positive, that could influence the development of art. In any event this coming-of-age of art criticism helped pave the way for the work of Aretino's countryman Vasari, who presented to the art world the first comprehensive history of artists' biographies in his Vite.



VASARI'S PRECURSORS ike the latter half of the eighteenth century, the sixteenth century was a decisive period ■^-^in the historiography of art. If the range of the concerns of art history began to be mapped around 1550, then those concerns were given full historical coherence in the second phase starting around 1750; each of these phases was guided by artists. Giorgio Vasari has rightly been called the father of the artist's biography, and sometimes — if less legitimately — the father of art history. But it is important to remember that his work did not spring from a vacuum. Many writers before him had compiled similar collections of biographies. We have already mentioned Filippo Villani's guide to Florence, written two centuries before the Vite. Cristoforo Landino, partly inspired by Villani, likewise recorded the history of Florentine artists.1 As background for his Vita di Filippo di Ser Brunellesco, a biography of Filippo Brunelleschi, Antonio Manetti (1423-1491) traced the history of architecture from its beginnings, through its maturity in Greece and Rome, to its decline during the late Roman empire.2 Antonio Billi's Libro appeared several decades before Vasari's publication, and like the Vite, also concentrated on Florentine artists.3 Billi's work, believed to have been completed around 1530, attempted a straight chronology of artists beginning with Cimabue. In con¬ trast, around 1540, the Anonymo Magliabecchiano began to compose an ambitious history of art from Greek antiquity to present-day Florence, a feat no one had tried since Ghiberti, and which in this case was also destined to go unfinished; perhaps the author was discouraged by the appearance of Vasari's Vite in 1550.4 The same can safely be said of the history of painting planned by the Venetian Marcantonio Michiel (1486-1552).5 A dialogue about paint¬ ing was published by Paolo Pini in 1548 in Venice in which Diirer is treated in addition to Michelangelo and Titian. Tintoretto and Vasari are also mentioned in it with praise.6 Another Venetian author, Michelangelo Biondo (born 1497) also published before Vasari's book his Della nobilissima pittura in 1549. In it the goddess of painting tells the author her history.7 Bishop Paolo Giovio (1483-1552), who in his house in Como had a collection of busts and statues of famous men from Antiquity, also wrote a series of biographies. The catalogue of his museo, which was built between 1530 and 1543, was published posthumously in 1577 in Nocera under the title Musaei Iioviani Imagines. It was illustrated with woodcuts. Giovio also wrote several other biographical books. Like his contemporary Aretino, Giovio was able to offer his services to the powerful people of his day and demand his rewards. It is recorded that the the immediate impulse for Vasari's work came from Giovio. Vasari himself gives more details about it.8


I Artists' Histories

THE ORIGINS OF VASARI'S VITE At the end of the second edition of the Vite, Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574) appended an autobiography that explained what prompted him to write the book.9 He tells of an evening reception given by Cardinal Famese while Vasari was in Rome working on the frescoes of the Sala della Cancelleria in the Palazzo San Giorgio, in 1546: One evening the courtiers and literati who were regular guests of the Cardinal were speaking about [Bishop Paolo) Giovio's museum and his collection of portraits of illustrious men with accompanying inscriptions. In the course of the conversa¬ tion the bishop himself mentioned that, beyond his museum and his book ecomiums, he had always felt, and still felt, the urge to write a treatise on the masters of drawing and painting from Cimabue to the present day.... When Giovio had finished speaking, the Cardinal looked at me and said: "What about you Giorgio, wouldn't this be ideal work for you?" "Indeed it would. Your Excellency," I replied, "for the Monsignor [Giovio] could benefit from the help of a profes¬ sional artist, that is, there is some factual confusion in otherwise admirable remarks." Yet it cannot be true, as Vasari claims, that he did not begin the book until 1546. He must have started the preparatory work no later that 1540. There is no doubt that from his earliest years Vasari had thought and written about the history of painting. He made extensive journal entries on other artists and collected drawings by them.10 Annibale Caro greatly encouraged Vasari's efforts when sent a sample selection from the journals in 1547. As easy as it would be nowadays to criticize Vasari's general historical scheme, or to take him to task on individual points long since corrected, it must be recognized that, both for his own age and for a broader historical continuum, his contribution was altogether unique, the essence of art historiography does not lie in mere accuracy of fact by rather in adequacy of approach, access to a given time. Many individual find¬ ings of Franz Kugler and Jakob Burckhardt, Heinrich Wolfflin, and Aby Warburg have by now been massively disproved, yet their overall accomplishment is beyond dispute. The same holds true for Vasari. His power to con¬ struct an historical model, to coax a wealth of isolated facts into a synthesis of monumental scale, was unpar¬ alleled in the sixteenth century. Here he was exploring a terrain that only much later would be called "science" or the "history of art." As an architect, Vasari was one of the most im¬ portant figures of his age. He founded the Horentine Academy for Cosimo I, and it is almost a symbolic coin¬ cidence that Vasari's architectural masterpiece, the Uffizi in Horence, became one of the world's greatest repos¬ itories for precisely that art that had so engrossed him as a writer.


I Artists' Histories

VASARI'S VIEW OF HISTORY When the first edition of the Vite — properly, Le vite de piu eccellenti architetti, pittori, e

scultori italiani, da Cimabue insino a tempi nostri, descritte in lingua toscana da Giorgio Vasari pittore aretino, con una sua utile e necessaria introduzione e le arti loro — appeared in 1550, it had long been awaited by all concerned. Its publication thrust Vasari to the forefront of public attention, into the midst of the partisanships and sharp enmities such celebrity entails. Florentine art historians had always limited their discussions to deceased artists, and while Vasari generally adhered to this tradition, he made one momentous exception: he included a full account of the life of his contemporary Michelangelo. Indeed, it would not be an overstatement to say that the chapter on Michelangelo is the true climax of the work, its implicit goal, and the assumed standard for all other artists' achievements. The 1550 edition of the Vite was a crystallization, or synthesis, of earlier biographies. Vasari had critically assimilated all the literature that had gone before him: Ghiberti and Billi, Manetti's monograph on Brunelleschi, Cennini, Belucci, Francesco di Giorgio Martini, and Filarete. But Vasari, far from viewing his work as a loose series of anecdotes, wanted his nar¬ rative to serve a prescriptive function, and it was mainly for that reason that he introduced his famous notion of the three ages. The first of these, which could be termed the infancy of art, corresponded to the fourteenth century, early youth to the fifteenth century, and maturity to Vasari's own century. The highest point in this development was Michelangelo, the first artist in the author's view to have liberated himself from classical antiquity, thereby supplanting it. It was Michelangelo's renovation of the art of the past that altered Vasari's critical categories and his general notion of history. This cyclical scheme of growth, decay, and rebirth recurs in Vasari's synopsis of the history of art. Antiquity is seen as the peak of development, the Middle Ages as a period of dormancy, and the phase since the fourteenth century as rebirth. Beneath the vast surface of biographical detail this basic pattern is always and unmistakably present. Though the succession of various styles remains quite contrived and schematic, Vasari was already begin¬ ning to develop a sense of the artist's conditioning by historical circumstances, landscape, and milieu. Furthermore, he was emphatic about offering relative, not absolute, judgments.11 Vasari wrote as an artist for artists, and it was in this spirit that he evaluated his own work. Basically, what was at stake for him was to consolidate recent gains in the legitima¬ tion of the artist within society in order to promote general social equality, or even privilege. Yet despite such a self-serving intent, the Vite endures as a classic of Italian civilization. The second edition appeared in 1568 under a slightly altered title, the painters now coming first and the architects last: Le vite de' piu eccellenti pittori, scultori, e architettori

scritte da M. Giorgio Vasari, pittore et architetto aretino, di nuovo dal medesimo reviste et ampliate con i ritratti loro e con laggiunta delle vite de' vivi e de' morti dall'anno 1550 insino al 1567. The new edition embodied substantial additions and corrections, was illus¬ trated with portraits of the artists, and included a greater number of contemporary artists.12 But, above all, Vasari now followed Ghiberti's example and inserted his own life story alongside those of the great masters. He would not be the last artist to try to raise his social standing through literary publications and through consciously connecting himself with the past.13


I Artists' Histories

VASARI'S DISCIPLES AND CRITICS Vasari's impact on his contemporaries in Italy and in northern Europe, Germany, and France was immense. Many of the writers who read and absorbed his work, even those who criticized and dismissed it, could not shake off his influence, even when they appeared to be going off in quite different directions. Some seem to have imitated him unconsciously. One of these first imitators, the Florentine Giovanni Battista Gelli (1498-1563), began writing a book on Florentine artists soon after 1550, though it remained unpublished until 1896.14 Its introduction respects its model's by-then completely familiar triadic division of

historical ages, with the third renascent age again reaching its peak with Michelangelo. Conversely, the sculptor Ascanio Condivi (ca. 1520-1574), wrote a Vita di Michelangelo, which seems to have influenced Vasari's second edition of 1568.15 Condivi's book contains precise details drawn from actual conversations with the artist, information that was unavailable to Vasari even though he too considered himself a friend of Michelangelo. The work was published in 1553, and it is conceivable that Michelangelo himself utilized it as a means for correcting Vasari's better-known text. Another work to come out of Michelangelo's circle was written by the painter Fran¬ cisco de Hollanda (1517-1584), who had left his native Portugal to study and work in Rome, where he too was particularly struck by the art of the Italian master.16 Returning trium¬ phantly to Portugal in 1545, he was hailed there as the "Portuguese Michelangelo." His Four

Dialogues on the Art of Painting, written in Rome in 1538, purportedly represents the views of Michelangelo and Vittoria Colonna.

Within the sixteenth century's biographical literature a sub-genre arose as artists turned to writing in an effort to secure themselves a place in posterity. The best known of these autobiographies is surely that of Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1571), which was translated into German by Goethe. Cellini dictated these memoirs while working in his studio from 1558 to 1566, and, though later edited, they seem to have lost none of their bizarre and highly idiosyncratic appeal.17 Cellini too was inspired by the first edition of Vasari's Vite, however much his simpler, bolder narrative seems to differ from it. It is also true that Cellini submitted his highly ver¬ nacular prose to the learned Varchi for correction. While Cellini had always spoken quite contemptuously of Vasari, Vasari portrayed Cellini as objectively as he could — even though Vasari's friend Vincenzo Borghini had urged him not even to bring the name of "that swine Benvenuto" into the distinguished company of the Vite. The memoirs of Baccio Bandinelli (1493-1560), which must have been written only as a private confession, were rediscovered and published in the twentieth century.18 A third surviving autobiography, by the sculptor Raffaello da Montelupe (died 1566), a pupil of Michelangelo, took the form of a testament. The fragmentary manuscript'depicts the artist's youth, apprenticeship, and mature career.19 In 1584, in direct imitation of Vasari, Raffaelo Borghini20 published his II riposo, a book of dialogues on painting and sculpture with ac¬ counts of famous artists of the day, all rather slavishly close to their literary model.21 A minor work so consciously indebted to Aretino that it names him in its title, the Dialogo della pittura intitolato lAretino,22 published in Florence in 1577, is of interest both because its author, Lodovico Dolce (1508-1568) — a Venetian-born historian, poet, and translator of classical drama raised by the Doge Lionardo Loredan — was not an artist; and, because it alludes to the 1550 edition of Vasari's Vite, it offers us a distinctly northern Italian view of the Vasari phenomenon.23 The dialogue in it between a Florentine painter, Fabrini,


I Artists' Histories

and a Venetian writer, Aretino, basically sums up attitudes of the circle around Aretino and Titian. In their debate on the relative worth of Michelangelo, Raphael, and Titian, the Tuscan Fabrini predictably champions Michelangelo, while Aretino, granting him his due, goes on to praise the greater finesse of Raphael, and ultimately offers up Titian as a syn¬ thesis of the two. There is no doubt that in this case Dolce was accurately reflecting Aretino's views. The brief Dialogo is also significant, however, not because it compared these three major artists but rather for the criteria these comparisons produced. Even Vasari's text had failed to provide a set of a priori critical concepts. References to the meaning of certain colors, for instance, were typically Venetian, unlike anything found in the Florentine Vite, and an anticipation of future critics such as Marco Boschini and Roger de Piles. German authors, too, were greatly influenced by Vasari, particularly after the appearance of the second edition of the Vite in 1568. They emulated him despite their understandable resentment of his obvious favoritism towards Italian artists. The translator of Vitruvius, Walter Rivius of Wurzburg (born ca. 1500), hoped to off¬ set the Italian bias by according Albrecht Diirer the reputation he deserved.24 In fact, the devoted Rivius set his countryman above the classical painter Apelles in his imaginary con¬ test between the two: "If it came to a final show of artistic strength, I believe Apelles would have to yield his laurels to Albrecht Diirer." Christoph Scheurl (1481-1522) had spoken of Diirer as a second Apelles as early as 1508, and the comparison was taken up by the poet Sbrulius in an extemporaneous verse: "Diirer's images triumph over Apelles. Worthy is he to rise to heaven."25 Sebastian Frank (1499-1542) went even one step further, and placed Diirer above a full triumvirate of ancient painters: Apelles, Zeuxis, and Parrhasius. The poet Johann Fischart (1546/47-1590) launched a similarly patriotic attack on Vasari's shortsightedness.26 In his introduction to a translation of the Lobspriiche auf 28 Pdpste, printed in 1573 by Bernhard Jobin, he wrote: "I myself have wanted to produce a catalogue of our great painters as vast as that of Giorgio Vasari." Fischart's uniquely northern history of the painters' lives began with a panegyric on Diirer, and attempted to rescue Jan van Eyck from undeserved obscurity. It pointed up Vasari's onesidedness by citing such masters as Lucas Cranach,27 Joos van Cleve, Hans Baldung Grien, Mabuse, Hans Holbein, and Tobias Stimmer. Moreover, Fischart confuted Vasari's basic historical scheme by showing that Ger¬ many had produced major works of art well before 1300 and that the south had simply lagged far behind in that era.28 Finally, Fischart took exception to Vasari's general theory of art; above all, he challenged the sufficiency of the imitation of nature, and hoped to place at least equal importance on the role of the individual artist's imagination. The successful painter, in Fischart's view, would also have to be a poet, philosopher, and mathematician. Fischart was not alone in his defense of northern art: Daniel Specklin's treatise Architekturen der Festungen, die zu unserer Zeit mogen erbauen werden, issued in 1589, also criticized Vasari's parochialism, but by way of claiming the Germans' preeminence in woodworking, painting, copper engraving, and casting.29

KAREL VAN MANDER'S SCHILDERBOECK Because of its positive effect on developments in Northern Europe, Julius von Schlosser termed the Schilderboeck of Karel van Mander (1548-1606) the most important work produced


I Artists' Histories

in the wake of Vasari's Vite.30 Like Vasari, van Mander was an artist, but he was also a poet, scholar, and historian. According to the autobiography at the end of his book, van Mander was bom in Meulebeke, went to Rome in 1574 for three years of study, and returned home with Bartholomaus Spranger in 1577, passing through Basel and Vienna. Van Mander translated Homer's Iliad and works of Virgil. In addition, he wrote a history of the founding, destruc¬ tion, and reconstruction of Amsterdam; an interpretation of Ovid's Metamorphoses; several singspiels (musical comedies); and finally his book on northern painters, which made him famous. When he moved from Haarlem to Zevenberghen Castle (between Haarlem and Alkmaar) in 1603, he all but abandoned his painting in order to devote himself exclusively to the book. The year of its publication, 1604, he moved once again, to Amsterdam.

As a deliberate counterpart to Vasari's Vite, van Mander's book presented German, Dutch, and Flemish artists as full equals to the Italians. Van Mander, however, gave much more space to contemporary painters than Vasari had. More than half of the artists discuss¬ ed were still active, and many were the author's friends and acquaintances, which gives the work a rather casual, if not random, quality, reducing it sometimes to a series of loosely strung anecdotes and lists of the most important works known to the author. Van Mander may well have felt the inadequacy of such an approach, for the book ends with an apology:

Occasionally the reader will find that I have reversed the chronological order of our younger and older contemporaries. When this happened, it was because I was awaiting biographical information about them — an exigency I trust the reader will excuse. For however hard he tries,

The careful man can go awry. And thus my work's not free Of frailty, of false accounts. Deceptive words. I'll own, not seek to hide, its faults.


I Artists' Histories

Like the Northern historians, the Spanish painter and writer Francisco Pacheco (15647-1654) responded to Vasari with a vindication of his own tradition. Pacheco was a poet, biographer, archaeologist, and art critic.31 A pupil of Luis Fernandez, Pacheco never became a very distinguished painter, though he was the teacher and father-in-law of Velaz¬ quez. He was familiar with northern art from having traveled through Flanders, and when he was hired as court painter in Madrid in 1611, he was at last able to view genuine examples of the Italian art he already admired through imitations and hearsay. On a visit to Toledo he met and became an admirer of El Greco, whom he ranked with Michelangelo, Leonardo, Bronzino, and Vasari, and whose spoken and written eloquence on art impressed Pacheco no less than his art itself. Pacheco founded a painting school that united a large number of artists and theoreticians; the school helped inspire the major work he had begun in 1623, which was published in Seville in 1649, El Arte de la Pintura, su Antiguedad y Grandeza. Pacheco's book far transcended its local context in its remarkable familiarity with all the major critical authorities of the age: Alberti, Leonardo, Dolce, Pini, Diirer, and van Mander. Its most notable feature might be its uncommon appreciation of Diirer, whom the author put on the same level as Michelangelo — though this may be explained by the fact that Pacheco, an official art censor for the Inquisition since 1618, viewed Diirer's work as exemplary ecclesiastical art. He found it especially commendable, for example, that Diirer had never shown "the most holy feet of the Mother of God," and added: "Praise be the holy Inquisition, which has come at last to right our depravity."32 The ease with which the artists and critics of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries pillaged Vasari's work is astounding. Many writings contain verbatim passages from it, and a number of northern European writers did little more than translate from the Vite. Decades after its first appearance it continued to have broad resonance in Italy as well, even when, as in the case of Federico Zuccaro and Gian Paolo Lomazzo, the writer's point of departure was little more than a seeming protest against Vasari. In a treatise published in Ravenna in 1587, Dei veri precetti della pittura,33 one of Zuccaro's students, Giovanni Battista Armenini (1540-1609), drew on Vasari's style and insights regarding individual artists while arriving at completely opposite theoretical conclusions. Giovanni Baglione, whom Burckhardt referred to as "the chronicler of Mannerism, early eclecticism, and naturalism," continued the Vasarian tradition with Le vite de' pittori, scultori..., published in Rome in 1642.34 Vasari's unrivaled authority lasted into the mid-seventeenth century, the age of of Poussin and Bernini. The Vite de' pittori, scultori, ed architetetti che anno lavorato in Roma morti dal 1641 fino 1673 (1772) by Giambattista Passed (1610-1700) was indebted to Vasari's work,35 as was the Vite de'pittori, scultori et architetti modemi of Giovanni Pietro Bellori (1636-1700), published in Rome in 1672, and the Abrege de la vie des peintres, avec des reflexions sur leurs ouvrages of Roger de Piles (1635-1709), published in Paris in 1681. As a final testimony to Vasari's literary paternity we may further cite the Notizie de' professori del disegno da Cimabue in qua of Filippo Baldinucci (1624-1696), published in Horence in 1681, and his Vita del Cavaliere Gio. Lorenzo Bernini... of the following year; the Entretiens sur les vies et sur les ouvrages des plus excellens peintres anciens et modemes of Andre Felibien (1619-1695), published in Paris in 1666; and the three-volume Abrege de la vie des plus fameux peintres of Antonin Joseph Dezallier d'Argenville (1680-1765), published in 1745. D'Argenville's son Antoine Nicholas Dezallier con¬ tinued the tradition with his Vies des fameux architectes, depuis la renaissance des arts, avec la description de leurs ouvrages (1788).

Filippo Baldinucci


I Artists' Histories

THE "VASARI OF THE NORTH" The first edition of L'academia tedesca della architetura, scultura et pictura: Oder Teutsche Academie der Edlen Bau-, Bild-, und Mahlerey-Kiinste by Joachim von Sandrart (1606-1688)

appeared in 1675.36 Sandrart's magnum opus arose, predictably, as a response to Vasari's Vite and gener¬ ally followed its organization. The book's first section is devoted to architecture, the second to sculpture; the biographies that form the third section basically derive from Karel van Mander and to a lesser extent from Neudorfer, with traces of other predecessors: Ridolfi, Cornelis de Bie, Abraham Bosse, and Ulisse Aldovrandi. A revised Latin edition of 1683 included artists up to the present day. Sandrart, a native of Frankfurt, was a practicing artist who had received his training there, in Nuremberg, and in Prague and finished his apprenticeship in Utrecht under Gerrit van Honthorst, with whom he traveled to England as an assistant in 1627, staying on after his teacher had returned home. He also journeyed to Rome, meeting a number of famous Italian artists en route, including Guido Reni and Francesco Albani. In Rome, Sandrart worked not only as a painter but also as an adviser on acquisitions, helping the Marquis Vincencio Giustiniani to purchase approximately 270 pieces of antique sculpture. He returned to Germany in 1635, fleeing to Holland during the Thirty Years' War — to Utrecht in 1636 and then to Amsterdam in 1637. In 1680 he published his Iconologia deorum in Nuremberg, which dealt with the gods of classical antiquity.37

Independently wealthy, Sandrart never had to depend on his earnings as an artist. From 1644 to 1660 he lived on his estate, Schloss Stockau. In Vienna in 1651 he painted portraits of the imperial family, and from 1660 to 1674 he lived in Augsburg, thereafter settling in Nuremberg, where in 1681 he had a stone placed on Diirer's gravesite.38 His book seems to have been prompted by a desire to advance the cause of German art. But Sandrart shied away from repeating Vasari's parochial program and used the book for working out his theory of the three arts, freely mixing biographies of foreign artists with the Germans'. He, too, took it for granted that only an artist could write about art, stating in the preface: "No one but a perfectly accomplished painter can write about painting." Like Vasari, Sandrart made no attempt to hide the effort his book cost him: "The discern¬ ing reader will soon sense the years of tremendous labor that have gone into the creation of the present work, for, while performing all my other normal duties, I alone executed all its drawings and copper engravings, did all the exacting writing and correcting...." But if Sandrart's final product does not sustain comparison with those of van Mander and Vasari, it is true nevertheless that he went beyond them theoretically, particularly in his nonhierarchical inclusion of sculpture and architecture. And like Vasari, Sandrart sought to defend the artist's place in society. Sandrart's theory of the development of the arts differs from Vasari's in establishing a peak during the age of Diirer, followed immediately by a sharp decline, and then a revival occurring toward the beginning of the seventeenth century.39 This theory is exemplified by the tragically short career of the painter Adam Elsheimer from Frankfurt, and confirmed by the career of Sandrart himself. It is interesting, therefore, to hear what he had to say about one of the truly significant artists of the century, Rembrandt: There is something almost wondrous in the fact that the excellent Rembrandt van Rijn should have been bom in the lowlands, to a humble miller, and that 18

I Artists' Histories

Nature should have spurred him on towards the noble arts, and such high ac¬ complishment in that art, which he attained through a combination of natural inclination and great industry. He began in Amsterdam as a student of the emi¬ nent Lastman, where he was taught the validity of nature, extreme diligence, and constant practice; thus he did not visit Italy or other places in order to learn the art of antiquity or the theory of art. Because he was not learned in reading Dutch, he could find little help in books. Still, he remained true to his adopted custom and did not shy away from violating the established rules of art in anatomy, human proportion, perspective, the use of antique statues, and even to go counter to Raphael's draftsmanship, to reasonable training, and to the most necessary acad¬ emies of our profession. Instead, he insisted that no rules were to be binding except those of Nature. According to the demands of the work at hand, he would employ such devices as light or shadow and the contours of objects, even if they con¬ tradicted the horizon, if in his opinion they were satisfactory and helped his ends. For all his praise, we at once sense Sandrart's underlying contempt for his great contemporary — his assurance that all the qualities of birth and education missing in Rem¬ brandt were abundantly present in another artist, namely, Joachim von Sandrart. His book is nevertheless important as an expression of the general efforts at that time to develop a theory of art and to establish the social position of the artist at court. If Sandrart unabashedly staged his own apotheosis within the covers of the Teutsche Akademie, and crowned himself with a laurel wreath in its final chapter, this was entirely common practice for the times, of which his book is the chief artistic monument. 19

I Artists' Histories

HOUBRAKEN AND PALOMINO Like van Mander, Sandrart, and many others, Arnold Houbraken (1660-1719) transferred Vasari's model to his own time and place.40 A painter with extensive formal training, Houbraken traveled to England in 1713 and in 1717 began to plan a book on the painters of the Low Countries. The first volume of De Groote Schouburgh der Nederlantsche Konstschilders en Schilderessen appeared in 1718, the second volume in 1719, and the third after his death, followed by a completely revised edition in 1753. Houbraken himself viewed the work as a sequel to van Mander's Schilderboeck and intended simply to take up where van Mander's book necessarily left off, that is, with painting around 1606. He used, or to put it bluntly, plagiarized, many other art-historical sources — Sandrart, de Piles, Felibien — and consulted a number of standard historical and political works as well. Yet he was actually quite honest in citing his sources by name, unlike his predecessors. He also drew information from many unpublished documents, personal statements, and jour¬ nals; and for vital statistics he even consulted the all-important death certificates. Like van Mander and Sandrart, Houbraken was irresistably drawn to legend Arnold Houbracken

and hearsay, with the result that he sometimes made very bold claims that have no basis in fact. For instance, he maintained that the painter Philips Wouwerman had illicitly seized Pieter van Laer's works after his death and then cannibalized them — which is impossible because it is certain that Wouwerman died in 1668 and Laer in 1673. Or again, Houbraken reports that Anthony van Dyck, after his stay in Italy, "for quite compromising reasons asked Rubens for his daughter's hand in marriage" — though Rubens had no daughter from his first marriage. Houbraken tells a similar story about Jan Steen and the daughter of Jan van Goyen that was likewise disproved by Abraham Bredius on simple chronological grounds. On the other hand, in contrast to Sandrart's equivocations, Houbraken's great service was to implement a positive reassessment of Rembrandt, whose work, he wrote, "far outshines even that of van Dyck and Rubens at their most powerful." In his book Inleyding tot de Hooge Schoole der Schilderkonst: Anders de zichtbaere Werelt of 1678, Samuel van Hoogstraten arrived at a positive appreciation of his

Title page to Samuel van Hoogstraten's Inleyding tot de

Hooge Schoole der Schilderkonst (Rotterdam, 1678)

teacher Rembrandt. No less than Rubens, Velazquez, Bernini, and Michelangelo, Rembrandt and his art changed the consciousness of his age and its view of tradition.41 The Museo Pictorico of the Spanish painter Antonio Palomino y Velasco (1655-1726) appeared at about the same time as Houbraken's De Groote Schou¬ burgh. 42 Palomino no longer grouped artists according to biographical criteria, but, like Felibien before him, according to subject matter: as painters of battle scenes, still lifes, portraits, and so forth.43 Though it was officially a work of the Enlighten¬ ment, Palomino's Museo had undeniable roots in the Vasari tradition, and we can say of it what applies to all Vasari's literary epigones: notwithstanding the validity of their scholarly objections and personal indignations, by sheer historical precedence and force of presentation Vasari eclipsed them all. Giorgio Vasari's influence lasted for nearly two centuries, and no subsequent collection of artists' biographies has ever matched his example. It would take an entirely new set of historical problems and concepts to supersede it. The mere con¬ tents of any original work can grow old and dated; not so its form. For that reason,

Antonio Palomino


Vasari's Vite has an assured place in the canon of Western civilization.


THE PHILOSOPHY OF ART AROUND 1600 ixteenth- and seventeenth-century art theory developed both as a continuation and a confutation of Vasaris ideas, and was marked by an ever-increasing convergence of art theory, art history, and art criticism. With the advent of Mannerist theory and the writings of Federico Zuccaro and Gian Paolo Lomazzo, the three domains became inseparable: soon anything written about art of the past, and its historical development, qualified as "art theory."1 The key figure in this trend was Gian Paolo Lomazzo (1538-ca. 1590), whom Joseph Gantner referred to as "the Linne of Italian art history."2 Lomazzo's theoretical system became a cornerstone for the new classicist art that led, by way of Giovanni Pietro Bellori, to the French academy. A native of Milan, Lomazzo began an apprenticeship in painting with Giovanni Battista della Cerva while also pursuing his studies in other fields. When Lomazzo became blind at the age of thirty-three, he began to devote himself entirely to his writing: imaginative works, autobiography, and basic treatises on art. His Trattato dell'arte della pittura, scultura et architettura was published in Milan in 1584; his Idea del tempio della pittura in 1590.

The Trattato was a recapitulation of sixteenth-century attitudes on art history and theory. The Idea, which, in Panofsky's words, made Lomazzo the "chief representative of a Neoplatonic metaphysics of art," presented his conceptual system in the guise of a temple. Brilliant in its style and organization, the work divided the realm of art into seven spheres, functioning like the seven planets, thus harmonizing with the universal order. Each "planet" was also assigned a tutelary artist: Michelangelo for Saturn, Gaudenzio Ferrari for Jupiter, Polidoro Caldara for Mars, Leonardo for the sun, Raphael for Venus, Mantegna for Mercury, and Titian for the moon. In its sublimation of all visual experience into a world of suprasensual coherence, this astrological conceit was the perfect correlative for its author's blindness. Whereas in the mid-sixteenth century Vasari had managed to strike a balance between art history and art theory, Lomazzo gave absolute priority to theory, and it was just this predominance of theory that was fundamental to art based on a conceptual system and to the French Academy. Another programmatic treatise of 1607, the Idea dei scultori, pittori ed architetti by the painter Federico Zuccaro (1542-1609), an outspoken critic of Vasari's Vite, further aided the formation of the academies and academic theory in general.3 Here again the whole of art history was fitted into a philosophical framework. Appropriately, Zuccaro became the first president of the Roman Academy.



Poussin and the French Academy

Nicolas Poussin

Pietro Bellori

THE EXAMPLE OF POUSSIN In the art and thought of Nicolas Poussin (1594-1665) the artistic currents of the past reach a kind of focal point, a last meeting before their infinite dispersion into the future. His pioneer¬ ing view of tradition was as influential as that of Diirer or Michelangelo in their respective times, affecting theorists as much as artists.4 Poussin left France for Rome in 1624 and took up residence on the Pincio, where he immersed himself in the study of classical architecture, sculpture, painting, and music. Though Poussin was not very highly regarded in official sectors in France, particularly the court, the French Academy (founded in 1648 and actually opened in 1664) looked to him as the ideal representative of the implicit standard of all its work. The climate Poussin's work created is probably best reflected in the writings of Giovanni Pietro Bellori, whom Panofsky spoke of as the founder of classicism.5 Bellori's most impor¬ tant statement may be contained in the lecture he gave at Rome's Academy of St. Luke in 1664, L'idea del pittore dello scultore e del architetto, later printed in a volume of 1672 entitled Le vite de pittori, scultori e architetti modemiP Archaeologist, art scholar, writer, and one-time painter, Bellori served as the pope's curator of antiquities during the excavations of the Roman forum before devoting himself almost exclusively to his art-historical research. He was the first author to state unequiv¬ ocally that ancient Greece had been the site of the world's greatest era of art. Bellori was a crucial figure for the writing of art history as well as for art theory, the man who, so to speak, created the autonomy for art from which it could be viewed in an historical con¬ text. His closeness to Poussin put him in the privileged position of an historical thinker able to influence developments around him, unhampered by the social constraints of an artist.

FREART DE CHAMBRAY Another contribution from Poussin's circle, the Idee de la perfection de la peinture by Roland Freart de Chambray (1606-1676), published in Le Mans in 1662,7 was an attempt to illustrate the author's critical system through a series of pictorial analyses. A native of Le Mans, Roland Freart, Sieur de Chambray, gave up his intended clerical



Poussin and the French Academy

career for mathematics, and in the 1630s he traveled to Rome, where he apparently became acquainted with Poussin. He returned to France in 1636, but in 1640 he was back in Rome with his brother, Paul de Chantelou (1609-1694), whose name has survived in art history chiefly because of his associations with Poussin and Bernini.8 The brothers had been ordered by Sublet de Noyers, a magistrate of Richelieu's, to persuade Poussin to return to France — though the artist clearly had no intention of leaving his house on the Pincio, where, in Sandrarts words, he was "vermoglich still bei seiner Hausfrauen lebte_" In addition, they had been commissioned to purchase antiquities for France. They did in fact persuade Poussin to return for at least two years, and when he did, he was given an extremely appreciative welcome by Louis XIII — a decisive turnabout in the art policy of the French state. To judge Freart de Chambray's treatise fairly, it is important to keep in mind that its author came to art as an outsider and was indifferent to the historical implications of his work. His allusions to ancient art were not meant to create serious historical connections, but simply to provide terms of comparison, fixed points of value. Practical criticism mat¬ tered much more to Freart de Chambray than any general speculation about art, and he saw the critic's role as that of a mediator between the artist and the public — in this respect anticipating Roger de Piles, Denis Diderot, and other French art critics of the eighteenth century. In specific analyses Freart was above all a severe critic of Vasari, heaping him with abuse and going so far as to doubt his very competence. Much of Freart's petulance no doubt stemmed from the fact that he imposed a mathe¬ matician's quantitative standard onto art, a standard Freart applied to five critical categories: invention, proportion, color, expression, and composition. He applied these categories to four works by Raphael, a fresco by Giulio Romano, and — as far as he would deign to — Michelangelo's Last Judgment, which he found irredeemably tawdry and obscene. Repeating sixteenth-century criticisms, he accused the artist of a total ignorance of the Bible, of casting entirely inappropriate figures into biblical settings, "even people kissing, and other such nonsense." Here, almost to the point of parody, we have an instance of the bondage that content-oriented criticism can inflict on the creative imagination. Yet Freart de Chambray was utterly convinced of the pedagogical value of his system, the only one, in his eyes, that could save young painters "from stumbling along the rocky road of painting like blind men." He considered his five categories to be the irrefutable basis for any serious appreciation of art. Although Freart's book culminates with a tribute to Poussin, to whom he admittedly owed all his basic insights, the difference remains that, while Freart's approach was totally rationalist, Poussin's was a fusion of theory and practice. As the peer of Bernini, Rubens, and Rembrandt, Poussin guided the consciousness of his age — as an artist, not as a theoreti¬ cian or dogmatist.

ANDRE FELIBIEN Like Freart de Chambray, Andre Felibien des Avaux (1619-1695) was overwhelmingly in¬ fluenced by the genius of Poussin, whom he first met while working as an attache of the French ambassador to the Holy See.9 The chief result of their long conversations was his Entretiens sur les vies et sur les ouvrages des plus excellents peintres anciens et modemes. Felibien considered the work of his mentor to be the highest achievement in the history of art: the ideal was no longer to be found in antiquity but in the present.



Poussin and the French Academy

Felibien's mode of classification was distinctive, discarding chronology and other biographical factors for a grouping by the content of the work: still life, landscape painting, animal painting and portraiture, and finally paintings of great events. Ideal aims of painting were further discussed in a second work aptly entitled L'Idee

du peintre parfait. In a subsequent volume, the Dissertation touchant larchitecture antique et larchitecture gothique, he revealed his understanding of architecture which amounted to a glorification of Vitruvius. For the formation of art history in France Felibien played a role as important as Vasari in Italy.

VICTORY OVER THE ACADEMY More than other French critics and theoreticians of his time, Roger de Piles (1635-1709) examined the daily realities of artistic practice — a decisive shift for art criticism.10 It is largely to his credit that art history (or a good deal of it, at least) managed to shake off its atelier jargon and make its vocabulary accessible to a wider audience. De Piles's Vasarian Abrege de la vie des peintres avec des reflexions sur leurs ouvrages was published in 1699. Like Felibien, de Piles grouped artists and works by school, separating biographical information from evaluations of works. In a work published in 1708, La Balance des peintres (literally, "The Painters' Scale," and so, by extension, "Ranking the Painters"), de Piles made a substantial attempt to establish evaluative categories for all the visual arts.11 He settled on four — draftsmanship, color, com¬ position, and expression — and he applied them to the great masters, who were then graded in each category on a scale of one to twenty. This thoroughly mechanical rating system had some very curious results. For one thing, no artist scored twenty points; eighteen was the highest score, and most artists fell far below that. In composition only Rubens and Guercino attained maximum scores of eighteen; Michelangelo no higher than eight; Bartolome Murillo six; Palma Vecchio five. In drafts¬ manship only Raphael earned a maximum, with Michelangelo, the Carracci, Domenichino, Poussin, and Caravaggio close behind at seventeen, and Rubens trailing far behind them at thirteen. In the then-revolutionary category of color, only two painters, Titian and Giorgione, scored eighteen. Quite significantly, Michelangelo plummeted here to four points and Poussin, for all his prestige at the time, did no better than six, while Rubens and Rem¬ brandt placed very high at seventeen. In the last, and by far the most discrepant, category of expression, Raphael once again soared to the top, with Rubens and Domenichino his only close contenders, each with seventeen points. Most other artists were far behind. De Piles's overall scores are no less intriguing. The most successful artists here were Raphael and Rubens. For Rubens this judgment was astounding. De Piles's catalogue of the greatest masters and the degrees of perfection that their work achieved revealed a great deal about the age. Hitherto, the names for comparison had been Raphael and Michelangelo; and though, as we have seen, Poussin was the unquestioned ideal among the painters of his day, here he received only a cumulative grade of fifty-three as against Rubens's sixtyfive. De Piles's exaltation of Rubens was as momentous in his day as Vasari's had been of Michelangelo, or Bellori's and Felibien's of Poussin. His new emphasis on color brought a corresponding wave of interest in the Venetian colorists Giorgione and Titian.12 Roger de Piles went further, divesting the official authorities (most of them Academy artists) of their exclusive right to decide taste and, like Bellori before him, defending the


II Poussin and the French Academy

Roger de Piles

right of the non-artist to judge art.13 Numerous clashes with the Academy were to ensue. As the new champion of color, de Piles naturally favored Rubens, while the classicist Academy members staunchly upheld Poussin.14 But de Piles's preference won out and most of the major collectors defected to his side. The Academy finally acknowledged its defeat and yielded to de Piles's values. In 1699 he was even welcomed into the Academy, and his close friend la Fosse was made its direc¬ tor. This was a major victory, for it signaled that the respected authorities in art history and criticism were no longer exclusively artists, but historians and theoreticians as well. Moreover, the basic values of art theory had changed considerably: the classic criterion of draftsmanship was coupled now with that of color; the classicist worship of antiquity now had to accommodate northern European painting.15 Very importantly, the evolution of painting itself was determined by Roger de Piles's new categories, for the sudden eclipse of draftsmanship allowed not only an appreciation of Rubens, but the splendid innovations in color of Antoine Watteau, Francois Boucher, Antoine Coypel, Francois Lemoyne, and many others.

AN EPIGONES ART HISTORY In 1698, the collected lectures of the court painter Pierre Monier (1639-1703) were pub¬ lished in a book entitled Histoire des arts qui ont rapport aux dessins, a product typical of the seventeenth century in its three-part chronology of classical growth, medieval decline, and rebirth - crowned by Michelangelo and Raphael. A director of the Academy, Monier had also known Poussin in his youth. Hardly an original work - instead a compendium of commonplaces gathered from well-known writers and artists — the book was nevertheless significant for coining the notion of a "history of the arts," which was an offshoot of French classicism.16 Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717-1768), who saw art from a completely different point of view, would later ridicule Monier in a vastly different book with a similar title,

Geschichte der Kunst des Altertums: "Writings have appeared under the heading of 'history of art' in which art has played a very small role indeed; for its authors were often strangers to that subject, gathering their scant information from other books, or from hearsay. Hack writers cannot penetrate the soul, the essence, of art: those who would delve into antiquity


II Poussin and the French Academy

bring us only erudition; those who would like to talk of art offer only vague eulogies or false premises." With Monier we stand at the end of an era that had been founded by the French Academy, an era in which an effort was made to subsume all artistic experience under strict, predic¬ table rules. While the revolutionary rationalism of writers such as Bellori, Felibien, and de Piles must have at first brought to art theory a welcome rigor and meaning, their principles soon calcified into mere routine. All creative intuition was stifled, and through art-historical efforts art itself almost disappeared from view.



SHAFTESBURY AND NEOPLATONISM he Enlightenment can be viewed from either of two perspectives, and thus be given two entirely different interpretations. One perspective is that of Winckelmann, with his rather missionary zeal to transcend it; the other is that of the seventeenth century, with its approach based on the new rules of empiricism. But whichever is taken as a starting point, one thing is certain: the early eighteenth century sought to abandon a priori notions in favor of fresh, more intuitively founded values, and in the process also attempted to find a meeting ground for the artist and his potential public. Naturally, all of this took place within still quite rationalistic boundaries, Winckelmann being the great exception with his vision of art as an organic whole. Anthony Ashley Cooper, Lord Shaftesbury of England (1671-1713), played an indis¬ putably large part in this shift of sensibility.1 Drawing on the thoughts of Plato and Giordano Bruno, his work The Moralist, published in 1709, defined three types of beauty: that of lifeless forms; that of created but finite or sterile forms; and the highest, that of the prime cause and basis of all beauty, giving life to the world from within itself. The classically derived notion of inner form clearly pertains to the second type of beauty, that of human creation. Still consigned to the realm of inanimate form, the work of art could not yet, as in Winckel¬ mann, take on the semblance of a vital organism. It becomes apparent that, for all the brilliance of his individual insights, Shaftesbury generally remained enthralled by Enlightenment philosophy, rooted to an aesthetic haunted by the model of the mechanical sciences, putting works of art on a level with automatons, exotic plants, or weaponry. Yet Shaftesbury's more original thought came out of an immersion in ancient Idealism, particularly that of Plato and Plotinus, who best guided his attempt to reconcile the real and ideal, the sensual and conceptual. In addition, the art of Greece seemed to him to have been a uniquely autochthonous phenom¬ enon, later transmitted to other peoples — a notion Winckelmann would take up and develop.2 According to Ernst Cassirer, Shaftesbury was also the founder of systematic aesthetics: "Shaftesbury introduced an essential concept of such aesthetics, namely that of 'disinterested pleasure,' which, entering German aesthetics through the writings of Moses Mendelssohn and Karl Philipp Moritz, found its definitive for¬ mulation in Kant's Critique of Judgment."3 Thus two concepts that would play an enormous role in late eighteenth-century Germany, disinterested pleasure and inner form - as well as the doctrine of genius, likewise central to Kant's aesthetics had their first life, as it were, in England in the Enlightenment.

Lord Shaftesbury



Art in the Enlightenment

ENGLISH GUIDES TO ITALY Two English writers, Jonathan Richardson (1665-1745) and his son Jonathan Richardson, Jr. (1694-1771), inspired not only England but all of Europe with a new empirical view of the visual arts.4 In 1719 they published their Essay on the Art of Criticism, an attempt to create common criteria for understanding individual works. Both Richardsons were painters and had spent considerable time in Italy. In 1773 their descriptions of the most famous Italian masterpieces were pub¬ lished in their collected works which, along with their earlier Essay on the

Theory of Painting of 1715, made a great impact both in England and abroad. The work of both these travelers deeply impressed William Hogarth (1697-1764), who naturally sympathized with their individualism. Quite in contempt of the French Academy's normative spirit, Hogarth prized singularity and the notion of inimitable genius. His essay of 1753, The Analysis of Beauty, was therefore a confessional account of the problem of understanding that term: no wonder that Hogarth resisted a creed that denied him aesthetic self-reliance.5 It is said that the Richardsons' Theory of Painting gave Joshua Reynolds his first inspiration to become a painter. Their celebration of Raphael, fraught with the hope that England too would soon produce an artist of equal stature, Jonathan Richardson

must have read to Reynolds like a promise.

JOSHUA REYNOLDS AND THE ENGLISH ACADEMY Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) significantly shaped the role of art in the Enlightenment.6 After studying painting with Thomas Hudson, he accepted an invitation in 1749 to go on a sea voyage, which took him to Lisbon, Algiers, and Rome. When Reynolds returned to England in 1759, brimming with picturesque impressions, he settled down to live with his sister and began a successful career as a portraitist. Not the happiest of sibling pairs, the Reynoldses plagiarized each other's work. As Sir Joshua said of his sister's copies of his work, "They make other people laugh and me cry." An intimate friend of the Swiss painter Angelica Kauffmann, Reynolds is believed even to have proposed to her, and it is certain that he helped to end her first, unhappy marriage. Reynolds's house quickly became the intellectual headquarters of London, filled with such luminaries as Samuel Johnson, Oliver Goldsmith, and Edmund Burke, to name only a few. Goldsmith, for instance, intended to collaborate with Reynolds and Johnson on an encyclopedia of the arts and sciences modeled on the French precedent. In 1768, the Royal Academy was founded in London, the loftier, official version of an already-existing artists' union and a sign of the age's changing values. For while the French Academy fostered binding aesthetic rules, its London counterpart had a typically empirical program. Reynolds became the Academy's first director, and on January 2, 1769, the day of its solemn inauguration, he delivered the first of his famous Discourses; these discourses, which Reynolds later gave annually at student award ceremonies, reveal the sum of his experience. Concentrating on the art of the past, Reynolds urged artists to study, travel, see the world, and never lose sight of the great masters, since only veneration of them could lead to individual strength and discovery.



Art in the Enlightenment

This form of artistic eclecticism found both disciples and detractors. Reynold's great contemporary Thomas Gainsborough remained a firm opponent, and Reynolds's own friend Goldsmith was equally critical. His novel The Vicar of Wakefield clearly satirizes Reynolds's style in the episode in which the vicar's family decides to have itself painted in the grand narrative manner. The vicar's wife is portrayed as Venus, flanked by her two youngest children as putti; while the vicar kneels before her and offers her his book and their two daughters pose as an Amazon and a shepherdess respectively. In his eighth Discourse Reynolds equated the development of art in general with that of the individual artist: "And here we may observe that the progress of an individual student bears a great resemblance to the progress and advancement of the art itself.... Art in its infancy, like the first work of a student, was dry, hard, and simple. But this kind of bar¬ barous simplicity would be better named penury, as it proceeds from mere want; from want of knowledge, want of resources, want of abilities to be otherwise: their simplicity was the offspring, not of choice, but necessity.... In the second stage they were sensible of this poverty; and those who were the most sensible of the want were the best judges of the measure of the supply." In 1790, after decades of activity, Reynolds resigned as director of the Academy. On December 10 he gave his last Discourse, the well-known fifteenth. All his friends and students had come, and the hall was so crowded that, just as Reynolds began to speak, the beams gave way and the floor collapsed. Reynolds simply waited in silence until order was restored and then started his speech from the beginning. It was a eulogy to his great idol Michelangelo, "this exalted founder and father of modem art, of which he was not only the inventor, but which, by divine energy of his own mind, he carried at once to its highest point of possible perfection."

THE NEW EMPIRICISM The change in aesthetic attitudes at the start of the eighteenth century is well represented by an essay of 1719, the Reflexions critiques sur la poesie et la peinture by the Abbe Jean Baptiste du Bos (1670-1742).7 Du Bos was one of the foremost historians of this time and a pioneer in the Held of constitutional history. Like de Piles before him, du Bos abandoned academic rules for the authority of personal experience and argued elegantly for the com¬ petence of the educated public to judge art, despite any artist's monopolistic claims to the contrary. Du Bos vested final authority in public response because, he argued, it alone could show true sentiment rather than programmed partisanship. So it was that in the early eighteenth century the rights of individuality were declared. At the same time, historical thinking suffered, overshadowed by more immediate questions, such as that of the very purpose of art, or the effect of the individual work on the spectator. For du Bos, "the greatest painter [would be] he whose work brings the greatest pleasure." One artist, one trend was as good as another. Relativism had entered art criticism. Even if in many respects du Bos remained indebted to French rationalism (so much so that at midcentury Rousseau would attack several of his views), he was nevertheless one of the most important theoreticians of the early Enlightenment, an audible presence far into the century. Impervious to fixed opinion, he sought to judge art strictly on the strength of its emotional resonance.




in the Enlightenment

A PAMPHLETEER'S ASSAULT ON ITALIAN PAINTING After a colorful and eventful life. Marquis Jean Baptiste de Boyer d'Argens (1704-1771), a prolific author in several genres including art criticism, found refuge in Potsdam at the court of Frederick the Great and joined the famous "round table" there. His Reflexions critiques

sur les differentes ecoles de peinture came out in 1752, a contribution to the extensive tradi¬ tion of "parochial defenses" that had sprung up across Europe. D'Argens attempted to fell the idols of the Italian art pantheon and replace them with Frenchmen. With five critieria — genius, draftmanship, anatomy, color, and expression — he compared eighteen Italian painters with their supposed French counterparts, pointed out their basic similarities, and then demonstrated that, in every respect, the French were superior to the Italians. For example, Jean Cousins was superior to Leonardo, Hyacinthe Rigaud greater than Palma Vecchio, Mignard more admirable than Correggio, Poussin superior to Guido Reni, Raphael pallid beside Eustache Le Sueur, Michelangelo ridiculous beside Charles Lebrun, and so on. D'Argens's nationalistic escapade seems to confirm the proverbial assumption that it is easier for Satan to praise God and the heavenly choirs than for an Italian to praise a Frenchman. Nor — so he argued — could the Italians show that they had produced a major artist! Naturally d'Argens infuriated the Italians, and in 1755 Ridolfino Venuti published a counterattack, enumerating d'Argens's absurdities — but quite inadequately. Winckelmann, drawn into this debate, called Venuti's work a pathetic piece of rubbish and summed up the whole affair as "ignorance all around us."

COUNT CAYLUS Winckelmann had a much more favorable opinion of his fellow archaeologist Count A. Claude Caylus (1692-1765), though he was not so vocal about it.8 When he did express it, however, he was forced to concede that Caylus "'deserves praise for having grasped the stylistic essence of the ancient races." Unlike Winckelmann, Caylus came from a wealthy family and had had a superb education; more than just an acquain¬ tance of other classical scholars, he was considered their doyen, which did not prevent his also being a champion of contem¬ porary art and the author of a monograph on the sculptor Edme Bouchardon. Carl Justi wrote of Caylus that "though convinced of the infallibility of his own judgment (so that he was called a patron of the arts and scourge of artists), he scorned out¬ ward honors and was the sworn enemy of sycophants, clerics, and physicians."9 Caylus's considerable fortune allowed him the luxury of confirming evidence through travel in Greece and the Near East. He subsequently settled in France, where he found intellectual companionship in Pierre Jean Mariette, whose various writings on the theory of art, particularly the Abcedario, were great Count A. Claude Caylus


successes at the time.


Art in the Enlightenment

Caylus s conception of a "history of the arts attempted to trace an evolution from Egypt to Etruria, Greece, and Rome, ending with the fall of the Empire. It did not account for simultaneous developments but treated cultural centers in strict sequence, as though art could appear only in one place at one time before moving on to another site, like a traveler. This is not to say that Caylus was unaware of the independent development of native traditions, or that he

largely because he was so well versed in technical questions — did not produce

some important findings, which were published between 1752 and 1767 as the Recueil d'antiquites. Like Winckelmann, Caylus preached the noble simplicity" of Greece with the fervor of a revivalist.

DIDEROT'S AESTHETICS The role of Denis Diderot (1713-1784) in Enlightenment aesthetics cannot be overestimated.10 The Encyclopedic he instigated brought together most of the great minds of France, among them J.J. Rousseau, Voltaire, Jean d'Alembert, and Melchior von Grimm. In the words of Charles Sainte-Beuve, "Diderot was the link between Voltaire, [Georges del Buffon, Rousseau, and [Paul] Holbach; between chemists and aesthetes, mathematicians, mechanics, and the literati; between them and the visual artists, sculptors and painters; between conservatives and avant-gardists, such as the playwright [Michel] Sedaine." Diderot's plays and novels were also influential, but his major impact was as a critic of art. In the aesthetic climate of the eighteenth century he was as per¬ vasive a force as Aretino had been in the sixteenth century, or as Charles Baudelaire would be in the nineteenth. The art historian Lionello Venturi marked Diderot's

Denis Diderot

art criticism as the beginning of a new era, basing his judgment on the Salon reviews that Diderot wrote between 1759 and 1781. Diderot staunchly championed the art of his time, recognizing, for instance, the innovations of Jacques-Louis David. While defending new art, Diderot was also a devastating critic of the courtly Rococo style — in this he was a direct parallel to Winckelmann in Germany. Diderot focused on the court painter Francois Boucher: "This man takes brush in hand only to show me young ladies' nipples and thighs — things I would happily see, but not be shownl" About the Salon of 1765 he wrote: "Taste, composition, expression, and draftsmanship cannot sink lower than in Boucher. His ideals have been dredged out of the morass of prostitution; his land¬ scapes are so thoroughly divorced from Nature that one would look in vain in them for so much as a blade of grass. All grace, tenderness, simplicity, innocence are unknown to him...." Besides the Salon critiques, Diderot published a shorter work, Pensees detachees sur la peinture, la sculpture, I'architecture et la poesie, which warns against rationalized aesthetics: "Rules have always managed to turn art into mere routine, and I wonder if they have not done more harm than good; that is to say, they have always helped mediocrity and harmed genius." Here Diderot was broaching a change in values that would emerge with great force only towards the end of the century. Diderot also tried to articulate the relationship between the public and the work of art, and through dialogues he portrayed people and their relation to individual works. For example, concerning a Madonna by Raphael he wrote the following dialogue between a connoisseur of painting and an uneducated woman:



Art in the Enlightenment

"Do you like this painting?" "No, not at all." "But why not? It's a Raphael." "Well, that may be, but I think your Raphael is an idiot." "Whatever makes you say that?" "Isn't that supposed to be the Holy Virgin?" "That's right, and that's the Christ Child with her." "Well, of course. But who's the other baby there?" "That's Saint John." "So it is. Now how old would you say Jesus is?" "Fifteen, eighteen months." "And Saint John?" "Four or five years old." "Oh, I see... .Then why does the Bible say that both mothers were pregnant at the same time?" "I swear," adds Diderot, "that I have not invented a word here, simply reported a fact. And another fact is that, after this, the painting struck me as no less wonderful."

GOETHE'S VIEW OF DIDEROT Goethe (1749-1832) was an astute and impassioned commentator on Diderot's Essais sur la peinture.11 He characterized the revolution Diderot helped to bring about in several art forms as the transition from "manner, convention, habit, and pedantry" to "genuine feeling, lived experience, deftness, and liberality." Goethe, in effect, found his equal in Diderot — which in no way kept him from disputing many of his ideas. "Again and again I debate with him, I chide him when I see he has strayed onto wrong paths, and I rejoice when our directions reunite. His paradoxes rouse me, I relish his bold conclusions, and I am transported by his performance; our debate grows violent, until I, of course, have the last word, as one will with a departed opponent." In certain respects, though, the genius of the Enlightenment seems to have been nearer to the twentieth century than to Weimar classicism, for Goethe tried in vain to establish certain orthodox principles that Diderot questioned. It was not strictly as a layman or outsider that Diderot took up consideration of the visual arts, for he felt qualified to exercise critical judgment on the education of the artist. Thus he criticized anatomy instruction as it was practiced, a point on which Goethe, much in the spirit of his age, justly reproached him. But when Diderot attacked the study of the nude model, Goethe could raise no objections. As Diderot put it: Do you consider the seven years the artist spends in an Academy drawing from models well spent? It is precisely in these grueling seven years that the artist ac¬ quires a "manner": all those coaxed and contrived poses and contrapposti, those cold, stilted gestures held by some poor devil who's paid thrice weekly to take off his clothes and let himself be manipulated like a marionette by some instruc¬ tor. What has any of that to do with natural gesture and movement? Can the man in your courtyard drawing water from the well be properly represented by someone who has never lifted the same weight and who, arms raised, mimics the same action on some school platform? 32


Art in the Enlightenment

Diderot was able to speak even more eloquently against academic training as such, and he shocked Goethe with his suggestion that any education, be it from the academy, from a master, from a school, or even from eternally exemplary antiquity, was of ques¬ tionable value. Diderot clearly knew his target and never tired of assailing art students: It must be an art, indeed a great art, to pose a model — for look at the lengths your professor goes to. You can guarantee he will never tell the poor devil standing in front of him, 'Just pose any way you wish!" He would rather contort him any which way than let him take some simple, natural stance. It cannot be otherwise. Hundreds of times on the way to the Louvre, passing the art students with their portfolios under their arms, I would be tempted to call out to them: "Listen, my young friend, how long have you been drawing?" "Two years." "Why, that's much too long! Get out of that rag-shop of manner and go visit the Carthusians, say, study them, and there you will see real expressions of piety and soulfulness. Or, since it is the eve of a holiday today, go to some church, sit in the pews and watch people be genuinely penitent. Tomorrow, go to the taverns, watch the brawling and squabbling there, or drift into public gatherings, crowded scenes, main thorough¬ fares, gardens, markets, houses —and then you will understand what human motion is all about! Look — right here — two of your classmates are fighting — only words, of course, but look how their whole bodies are automatically set in motion. Study them well; and then think how feeble your teacher's methods will seem, how fatuous his model's poses. And then if you would abandon all of that for the ease and simplicity of a master like Le Sueur, you would have your work cut out for you. You will have to, in fact, if you have any seriousness in you! Goethe would often make malicious jokes at his admired opponent's expense — he had ample occasion on the matter of color, for example. But the one item he found truly rankl¬ ing was the French view of genius, at least Diderot's version: "The artist with a true feeling for color fixes his eyes on the canvas, mouth ajar, huffing, snorting, his palette the very image of chaos. And into that chaos he dips his brush, culls from it the work of his own creation. He stands straight, steps back a bit, casts a glance at his work, sets about — and behold, objects of Nature spring live onto his canvas." Above all, it was that "snort" that Goethe found unpardonable. He was convinced that neither Raphael nor Veronese had sat "with 'mouth ajar,' snorted, moaned or groaned — nor panted nor coughed nor gasped!" Likewise his impatience with Diderot's concluding descrip¬ tion: 'Triend! Enter an artist's studio and watch him at work. If the tones and halftones are symmetrically arranged on his palette, or if the order he has begun with is not a muddle within fifteen minutes, you can be sure this artist is frigid, his work insignificant... alien to the paths of genius." To which Goethe responds: "Whether this operation really has to be this wild and tumultuous is here questioned by a more cautious German."

A SCULPTOR AS WRITER Diderot's contemporary, French sculptor Etienne Maurice Falconet (1716-1791), also wrote on art and art history.12 As art historian Carl Justi quipped: " Falconet, who every now and then felt the need to unclutter his head of various ran tings on art., .we owe an oeuvre of six volumes... ."13 Like Diderot, Falconet challenged certain hallowed aspects of



Art in the Enlightenment

classical antiquity. He distinguished three approaches toward art: the scholar's, or that of documentary value; the amateur's, or that of spirit and expression; and the practicing art¬ ist's, or that of technique and quality of execution. If Falconet could not always live up to his own principles, he nonetheless insisted on the validity of independent judgment, assert¬ ing: "Let me say once and for all that in the visual arts I acknowledge no authority, that I admire only what impresses me, and that I claim the liberty to say so." In Falconet's view, as later in the revolutionary art theory of Immanuel Kant, it was the great artist who set the standards by which art was to be judged. This emphasis on subjective freedom and individual judgment was typical not merely of eighteenth-century artists but of eighteenth-century thought in general. The arguments Goethe had with Falconet in his writings as early as 1776 brought him some fundamental new insights on art: a new respect for Rembrandt, for example, and for the female portraits of Rubens.

EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ART CRITICISM IN ITALY Toward the end of the seventeenth century there was a resurgence of scholarly interest in early Italian art, leading to new possibilities of historical synthesis. In Milan, Sebastiano Resta (1635-1714) planned an illustrated history of painting from the late Middle Ages. As Justi explained: "He wanted to use his own splendid collection to illustrate the history of painting from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century."14 Resta called it the Pamasso de pittori, and in keeping with the mythological motif, his catalogue, issued in Perugia in 1707, assigned a different muse to each of the painters represented. A related revival of the beginnings of art historiography occurred toward the middle of the eighteenth century. In Florence, the brief monograph on Michelangelo by Ascanio Condivi resurfaced, and the art historian Anton Francesco Gori announced his plan to reedit it. After the difficulty of finding an adequate copy was overcome, various scholars, such as Pierre Jean Mariette and Francesco Maria Manni, were invited to help annotate and comment on it, so that the editor could finally produce a definitive scholarly edition, which came out in Rome in 1746. Shortly after, in 1759, a new edition of Vasari's Vite appeared in Rome, edited by Giovanni Gaetano Bottari (1689-1775). Undertaken in a new, reflective spirit, the editing of these classic texts shows an almost modern rigor and exactitude which was quite remarkable for the time. The work of Luigi Lanzi (1732-1810) was the culmination of another specific phase of Italian writing in art history.15 His masterpiece, the Storia pittorica dellltalia, was published in Bassano in 1789. An exhaustive com¬ pilation, it remained valid for generations and is highly readable even today. Lanzi no longer presented artists one by one but grouped them ac¬ cording to schools, or as he himself said: "I shall begin with that region of Italy that first shone with the genius of Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael, the heads of the great schools of Florence and Rome, to which I would link the neighboring schools of Siena and Naples. Shortly thereafter admiration arose for Giorgione, Titian, and Correggio... the , ... Luigi Lanzi


basis for the third and fourth schools, those of Venice and Lombardy. The fifth is the school of Bologna, with that of Ferrara nearby. Finally, the school of Genoa...and Piedmont."


Art in the Enlightenment

Winckelmanns new organic concept had no bearing on Lanzi's exposition, even though the latter had known Winckelmanns views for decades. For one reason or another, Lanzi simply did not assimilate the new perception of the organic totality of art. For him art still centered on the Italian schools, although his compilation was new and his knowledge of the material was extensive. Meanwhile, the justification of his own painting tradition tied him as well to his great precursor Vasari.

WINCKELMANN'S CIRCLE The architect Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach (1656-1723) was a crucial figure for the historical consciousness of the eighteenth century, not just through his own architectural accomplishments but also because of his encyclopedic publication, the Entiourff einer historischen In this monumental tour de force, Fischer von Erlach gathered all known architectural forms, from the ancient Orient and classical antiquity to exotic peoples. His concluding fourth volume contained his own original plans. It is almost inconceivable that a practicing architect of the early eighteenth century should have used all available resources to document not only the structures of ancient Greece and Rome, but also Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem, the Egyptian pyramids, the Babylonian ziggurats, the Imperial Palace in Peking, and even England's Stonehenge. The precision of the surveys, topographical maps, and ground and section plans is nothing short of astonishing. The study of historical buildings made a quantum leap with this one work.17 Among the authors in Germany who were important in the study of art during the Enlightenment was Johann Friedrich Christ (1700-1756). Having received a fine polymathic education, in 1734 he became an influential professor in Leipzig; at the same time he painted, etched, sculpted, and made furniture.18 Christ had intended to write a history of painting by nation and school, which Luigi Lanzi was later to do. Two works by Christ have, however, become cornerstones for modern art history: his study of Lucas Cranach (1726) and his lexicon on monograms entitled Anzeige und Auslegung der Monogrammatum (1747). For examples in the latter book, Christ made use of his own huge graphic collection. An extremely discerning collector, he was easily able to tell genuine from spurious works, and in the monogram study he advised the wouldbe connoisseur to judge less on the basis of signature than by 'learning instead to recognize a master by the overall spirit of a work, its feeling of rigor, the precision of its contours and strokes...." If such advice sounds obvious today, we must recall that for the first half of the eigh¬ teenth century it was, in fact, revolutionary, as were Christ's appreciation for the painter Cranach and the distinctions he made within Cranach's highly uneven oeuvre. Christ, in addition, was one of the first professors in Germany to introduce art into the university curriculum. The impact of his Leipzig lectures was quite far-ranging. Not only Winckelmann but also Gotthold Lessing and Christian Gottlob Heyne admired Christ and received their first serious initiation into art from him. Goethe also attended his lectures in Leipzig. Christian Ludwig von Hagedorn (1712-1780), the brother of the poet Friedrich von Hagedom (1708-1754), belonged to the tradition of connoisseurs and practical critics who focused on single works of art, dabbled in various disciplines, and wrote about general ques¬ tions in art.19 When he had finished his studies, Hagedorn entered the service of the court


Ill Art in the Enlightenment

at Dresden, where he eventually became general director of the royal art collections.20 He had a substantial collection of his own, mostly made up of works commissioned from young contemporary artists. In 1755 he published the essay Lettre a un amateur de la peinture avec des eclaircissemens historiques sur un cabinet et les auteurs des tableaux qui le composent ouvrage entremele de depressions sur la vie de plusieurs peintres modemes, with various historical remarks in the appendix; and in 1763, Betrachtungen iiber die Malerei. Winckelmann, who for all his admiration for Hagedom could not bear the fact that Hagedom worshiped the writings of Roger de Piles, later said of him: "Hagedom had a vast knowledge of painting, acquired in Vienna, Diisseldorf, Munich, and Dresden." Yet he could not refrain from qualifying that that knowledge "was nevertheless partly incomplete, partly incorrect, since he never visited Italy."21 Hagedom's real contribution, in fact, lay in his re-evaluation of northern European art, particularly in his influential enthusiasm for Rubens. He likewise thought Jan van Eyck, Hans Holbein, and Cranach to be greatly underestimated and was astute enough to see, far ahead of others, the importance of Peter Vischer's tomb for Frederick the Wise in Wit¬ tenberg. In addition, he wrote a pamphlet defending Albrecht Diirer against attacks by Hogarth. At times, however, Hagedom ventured some rash conjectures, as in his optimistic predictions of a coming synthesis of Netherlandish mastery of color and Italian sense of form. But it was precisely the intuitive and temperamental cast of his criticism that also led him to valid insights, above all those concerning landscape painting and the importance of color in that long underrated genre. Johann Domenico Fiorillo (1748-1821) carried the traditions of the connoisseur and art teacher into the nineteenth century.22 Bom in Hamburg, he studied in Prague and Bayreuth, and worked in Bologna and in the studio of Pompeo Batoni in Rome. On his return to Germany he became a court painter in Brunswick and later earned his living as a drawing instructor and curator of the engraving collection and painting museum in Gottingen. In 1813 he obtained a post teaching "drawing and the tasteful inculcation of other studies ap¬ propriate to the plastic arts." As a teacher, Fiorillo was very influential. Karl Friedrich von Rumohr was a student of his, and major Romantic writers, such as August Wilhelm von Schlegel and Wilhelm Heinrich Wackenroder, owe much to him. Fiorillo was able to profit from the historical studies by J.G. von Herder and Luigi Lanzi in his own writings on early German painting, oil painting, Russian art, Italian art, and finally in his eight-volume history of the graphic arts, Geschichte der zeichnenden Kiinste von ihrer Wiederauflebung be auf die neuesten Zeiten, which appeared between 1798 and 1808. He also supervised the fourth Italian edi¬ tion of Lanzi's Storia pittorica dell'Italia. His investigation into the sources of Vasari's Vite made him the founder of Quellenkunde, the rigorous study of primary sources which would become such a vital aspect of art research.23 Well into the middle of the eighteenth century, the Age of Enlightenment remained the ward of Rationalism, which accordingly governed its views on past and contemporary art. Yet the great figures of the age —Diderot, Reynolds, and finally Winckelmann — all urged more immediate and sensory involvement with the work of art. What at the start of the century had been categorized as lifeless matter became the new reality out of which the spirit of the artist could be understood. Henceforth it would be possible to view art as an organic whole and to establish a basis on which, for the first time, the history of art could be experienced as the externalization or expression of an internal dynamic.





ithin the spirit of Enlightenment inquiry, the writer Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729-1783) attempted to delineate the possibilities of art criticism. Yet Lessing's

argument rested upon the unaccepted assumption that one did not have to be a qualified professional in a given discipline in order to theorize and criticize it. As Lessing himself said: "If your soup is too salty, should you not have the right to complain to the chef even though you yourself cannot cook?" The fate of the young discipline of art history would be determined by the later eight¬ eenth century's attitude toward the arts and by the controversy surrounding one work in particular. This was the ancient sculpture known as the Laocoon, fragments of which were discovered on January 14, 1506 in the vineyard of Felice de Fredis, on the Esquiline hill in Rome.1 While digging there, de Fredis had struck remains of buildings and then, deeper, discovered a lavishly ornamented box containing pieces of the statue group. Since that accidental discovery, there have been several efforts to reassemble the work correctly. It was not until 1950, however, that the right arm of the main figure, found by Ludwig Poliak in 1905, was authenticated. Thanks to the research of Verarga Caffarelli, we now see the group in its apparently original arrangement. The story of Laocoon and his sons survives in two sources from an¬ tiquity, in Pliny the Elder and in Virgil's Aeneid, but the only similarity between the two accounts is that Laocoon was punished by the gods. Pliny wrote that Laocoon married against the gods' orders and further defied them by fathering children in his old age; in Virgil the father and his sons are attacked by serpents for having warned Troy of the Greeks' wooden horse. A tragedy on the subject by Sophocles has been lost. Pliny tells of the statue's fame in antiquity: "The statue of Laocoon and his sons, housed in the palace of the emperor Titus, was superior to any painting and sculpture. Hewn out of a single piece of stone, Laocoon, the children and the astonishing coiled serpents were executed in accordance with a plan agreed upon by those eminent craftsmen Agesander, Polydorus, and Athenodorus of Rhodes." The work standing today in the Vatican Museum is thought to be the very one described above: however, pace Pliny, it is now believed that the group was not made from a single piece of marble. Throughout the centuries of the Middle Ages the theme was not forgotten, and many representations of the Laocoon motif exist.2 As to the date of the com¬ position, scholars have never reached a consensus.

Gotthold Ephraim Lessing


IV The Laocoon Debate

The unearthing of the group in 1506 aroused great interest.3 Michelangelo rushed to the excavation site and instantly proclaimed the fragments an "artistic miracle"; his youthful enthusiasm for the sculpture is echoed even in his late works.4 Within a few years, the miss¬ ing portions of the ensemble were restored by Baccio Bandinelli and Giovanni Angelo Montorsoli; Michelangelo himself made a new right arm for the figure of Laocoon. By order of Pope Julius II, Jacopo Sansovino made a wax impression for casting, and the image of the statue was reproduced in countless graphic works. When in 1515 Francois I demanded it as a war trophy, Pope Leo X had Bandinelli make a copy to send to Paris; it now stands in the Uffizi. Several centuries later, the work was again demanded by France as war pay¬ ment; but this time in the course of negotiations it was the original that was given up to the Musee Napoleon and triumphantly exhibited in Paris in 1797. Only after Napoleon's defeat in 1815 was the group restored to the Vatican. In the century of its discovery, Titian parodied it in a grouping of three apes overcome by snakes.5 It was further travestied by the sculptor Balthasar Permoser in his Hercules and Omphale, executed between 1690 and 1697. El Greco, in a painting of the same subject, now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, portrayed Toledo in the background. Adrien de Vries made a bronze Laocoon with Two Sons and Serpents, formerly in Prague's Waldsteingarten and now in the palace garden at Drottningholm, outside of Stockholm. The Princeton University Art Museum has two small marble versions of the group, and the Dresden sculpture collection includes a bronze attributed to Gaspard Marsy. Between the sixteenth and the eighteenth centuries, travelers to Rome continually ex¬ amined, sketched, sculpted, and discussed the work. In the seventeenth century the sculptor Gerard van Opstaal devoted a famous lecture to it at the Academy in Paris. During the eighteenth century it was a violently contested object of scholarly and artistic interest. Friedrich

The Finding of the Laocoon, Hubert Robert, 1773, Virginia Museum, Richmond


IV The Laocoon Debate

von Schiller referred to it as the measure of what the artists of Greece could attain in the way of pathos ; Goethe considered it the most perfectly unified masterpiece in the history of sculpture ; and in 1719 Jonathan Richardson published the first full description of it,6 with details on its state of preservation and on its restoration — a text with which Winckelmann was quite familiar.7 Every era confronts its own aspirations in a work of art, measures itself against it, and makes judgments about it. The scholarly attention to the Laocoon was symptomatic in this sense, and the premises it created reached far beyond the confines of art history, branching into all other basic aspects of culture in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

WINCKELMANN'S VIEW Winckelmann was one of the first non-artists to offer a new assessment of the Laocoon group; in his early book of 1755, Gedanken iiber die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst, he had already described the work and signaled its ex¬ emplary character: 'Tor the artists of ancient Rome, the Laocoon was precisely what it is for us today: the standard of Polyclitus, a veritable law of art."8 Winckelmann's appeal for an art of edle Einfalt und stille Grosse (noble simplicity and quiet grandeur) must be understood as a response to the "bloodless routine" and vacuous art forms of his day. Next to the sculpture of Bernini, Pierre Puget, or any Rococo artist, the Laocoon group actually does appear relatively calm and well balanced — classical, in a word. Still, it is startling for us today to realize that Winckelmann's famous motto derived from his contemplation of the Laocoon. Indeed, it first appears in his Gedanken in the in¬ troduction to his discussion of the statue: Ultimately the distinguishing characteristic of the great Greek works is that of a noble simplicity and quiet grandeur, as much in stance as in expression. Just as the depths of the ocean are ever calm, however wildly the surface rages, so the expressions on the faces of the Greeks, for all the passion behind them, reveal only great, tranquil souls. It is this soul that is portrayed in the figure of suffering Laocoon, and not only in his face. The pain that is visible in every muscle and sinew of the body, which one can almost feel as one examines the horribly con¬ torted lower body, not to speak of the face and other parts of the body; this pain, I repeat, is borne on the face without a hint of rage, as is true of the figure's whole bearing. Here there is no cry of horror, as Virgil imagines; the position of the mouth clearly precludes that. In its place, there is only an anxious yet stifled sigh. Physical pain and magnanimity are, as it were, balanced throughout the figure. Laocoon suffers, but it is suffering like of Sophocles' Philoctetes; his misery pierces our very soul, but even more we are made to envy his awesome attain¬ ment of dignity in misfortune. The art of his own age understandably figured for Winckelmann as the antipode to such nobility. The Rococo represented for him "the vilest taste imaginable today": "Nothing about it could possibly command respect, certainly not its bizarre poses and attitudes, or its impudent bravura, executed, as they say, with franchezza, with so-called spirit. Its cherished conceit is the contrapposto, and this alone it regards as the hallmark of any work of merit."


IV The Laocoon Debate

Laocoon, Vatican Museum, Rome


IV The Laocoon Debate

Laocoon, The Art Museum, Princeton University


IV The Laocoon Debate

Winckelmann's major work, the Geschichte der Kunst des Altertums, published in 1764, gives a more detailed analysis of the statue, with an undiminished sense of its importance: The statue of Laocoon is a depiction of extreme pain, or rather, of a man who attempts to summon all conscious strength of spirit to resist that pain. And while suffering swells his muscles and strains his nerves, the fortified spirit shows in his upturned brow; his chest heaves with freighted breathing as he checks the flood of his emotions, reining in the pain and concealing his torment. Only this woeful, stifled sigh preys on and hollows out his lower torso, giving us a literally "visceral" image of his self-control. It is less the pain on his children's faces than his own fear of betraying fear as they turn to him and cry for his help, that wrenches Laocoon; and a father's heart is indeed revealed in those anguished eyes welling with compassion. His face is plaintive, to be sure, but it does not "scream," as his eyes lift heavenward in hope of divine rescue. Where the artist could not embellish Nature, he has depicted her unadorned, in all Her severity and power; and where the greatest suffering shows forth, so does the greatest beauty. On the left side, where the serpent plants its venomous bite, the heart in all its emo¬ tion seems doomed to suffer most; and this particular portion of the body must be hailed as a true artistic wonder. For these legs would evidently like to flee the approaching evil; not a single part is at rest; the chisel-strokes themselves help to convey the plight of the paralyzed flesh. Like Winckelmann, if without his grace and eloquence, the eminent archaeologist Ennio Quirino Visconti gave an interpretation of the Laocoon group that laid greater emphasis on the humane character of the suffering father whose greatness endures through his distress. Mindful of where the statue stood, Visconti went on, however, to distinguish the pagan nature of the father's obvious recoil from the wise passivity of Christian faith.

LESSING'S THEORETICAL DISTINCTIONS Lessing's unfinished book Laokoon oder iiber die Grenzen der Malerey und Poesie, pub¬ lished in Berlin in 1766, is a classic attempt to arrive at basic principles for art theory.9 In it the author seeks criteria by which to distinguish painting from poetry, that is, the spatial from the temporal arts. The ideal grandeur that Winckelmann enthusiastically imputed to all of antiquity was confined now by Lessing to the visual arts. Thus, while Lessing sided with Winckelmann in his objections to a Virgilian reading of the Laocoon, he did so on purely formal grounds: as an auditory means of expression, the father's scream was the property of poetry, not sculpture. As Carl Justi summed up: "Lessing gave the Winckelmannian notion of 'noble simplicity and quiet grandeur' a qual¬ ification completely alien to the thought of its inventor; what Winckelmann had stated unconditionally was limited now to painting and sculpture." Central in Lessing's analysis was the moment the artist had chosen to capture — a point on which Goethe would concur. Shaftesbury, too, in his Characteristics, had spoken of the artist's need to find the most fertile pictorial moment for a given subject, which he de¬ fined as that which referred to the past or anticipated the future. Lessing maintained that the artist needed to find this fruitful or pregnant transitional moment in order not to impair the work's overall effect, to preserve that slight distance the viewer required to complete the depicted action with his own imagination. 42

IV The Laocoon Debate

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fiiftija-fuis Sia.£tgune may well ask how any true friend of pure art forms could presume to examine these works of degeneracy long reviled by later generations; or who would choose to look among the vast range of artistic splendors in Italy for possible merits in these bulking, untoward heaps of stone."18 Here Burckhardt, for all his effort toward historical objectivity, indulged a highly subjective aversion to specific works by labeling them "sickly," "brutal," "contemptible," "disreputable." His blindness towards Bernini is summed up in one sentence: "It is a mystery how Bernini, despite daily contact with the finest draped statuary of antiquity, could have strayed so egregiously." Yet Burckhardt eventually modified


XII Art History in the Grunderzeit

certain aspects of his position, and by 1875 he was writing to Alioth: "My admiration for the Baroque is gaining by the hour: I tend to regard it now as the natural terminus of all organic architecture." Thus architecture formed the first bridge, as it were, back to the Baroque. While Rubens had long been the one artist whose Baroque status scholars could "forgive," and Justi's biography of Velazquez did much to elevate the image of artists in the Baroque age, Adolph Menzel was the first actually to document its major monuments in drawings. Baroque architecture itself was to become the favorite model for almost all the of¬ ficial architecture, with the exception of church buildings, for the rest of the century: theaters, opera houses, seats of government. The turnabout in taste was mainly the work of a single architect, Cornelius Gurlitt (1850-1938). In memoirs written in his old age, Gurlitt claimed that he had always thought of himself much more as an architect than an architectural historian, and in Johannes Jahn's collection of autobiographical statements by art historians, Die Kunstwissenschaft der Gegemvart in Selbstdarstellungen, Gurlitt mused: "The basis of all my work has been one fear and one fear only — namely, of becoming an academic."19 Gurlitt had first received a degree in art history, taking classes with Friedrich Theodor Vischer and Wilhelm Liibke, and finished his doctoral work in 1889 under Anton Springer in Leipzig. After becoming acquainted with Baroque architecture in Dresden, he discovered how inadequate existing labels for this period of art were. He studied further examples in Prague and Berlin and was eventually asked by Alwin Schultz to continue Kugler's in¬ complete History of Art with a chapter on the Baroque. In 1883 Gurlitt had already published a two-volume work Das Barock- und Rokokoornament Deutschlands, devoted chiefly to the applied arts of the period. The apology he wrote by way of introduction acknowledged: "Only a few years ago one would have had to give extensive excuses for publishing any substantial treatment of the style then dismissed with the term 'Zopf' (quaintness, frilliness)." Gurlitt, in an effort to explore the beginnings of Baroque style, traveled to Italy to see the original works, where he was universally treated with apprehension or scorn for his interest in "decadent style." When Bayersdorfer mockingly asked if he had not heard of a certain architect named Brunelleschi, Gurlitt could only retort that he had indeed but believed he had been dead for quite some time.20 Later on, the unemployed architectural draftsman whom Gurlitt had hired to assist him actually refused to make renderings of "that sort of thing." Yet all this antipathy made the experience only more stimulating for Gurlitt, for as he explained: "I was carried through all this with a somewhat indescribable feeling of exhilaration. I felt like a man possessed of boundless wealth, being the only one to realize the beauty of so many senselessly reviled works, which became, in a sense, my private property." Gurlitt's former professor Wilhelm Liibke, who otherwise supported his project, urged him to guard his sanity through all his contact with works of genuine folly. Thus Gurlitt's three volumes on the art of the Baroque opened up entirely uncharted terrain in art history, though tentatively enough still for the author to dismiss Borromini for a lack of "intrinsic value." Alois Riegl criticized the books for their lack of both historical background and a definition of the essence of Baroque style.21 Yet they were a general success, and not least in their practical effect on contemporary architecture. Simultaneous with this first presentation of Baroque architecture, the twenty-fouryear-old Heinrich Wolfflin published his Renaissance und Barock, in which he combined Burckhardt's interests with his own refined method of formal analysis.


XII Art History in the Grunderzeit

Gurlitt, Wolfflin, and Riegl (who lectured on Baroque art in 1894 and 1895) instigated a period of total reassessment of Baroque style. Riegl looked for its genesis in the writings of Giovanni Baglione, Giovanni Pietro Bellori, Giovanni Battista Passeri, and above all, Filippo Baldinucci, whose life of Bernini he translated and annotated (it was published posthumously in Vienna in 1912, four years after the posthumous publication of Die Entstehung der Barockkunst in Rom). The notion of the Baroque itself was considerably refined by August Schmarsows Barock und Rokoko, which appeared in 1897. Schmarsow went beyond his predecessors in giving equal attention to painting and sculpture. With less of the spiritual allegiance to the Italian Renaissance that made Wolfflin a true heir to Burckhardt, Schmarsow was better able to offer an objective appraisal of both styles. Research into the Baroque now mushroomed in the wake of these pioneering works. Scholars no longer limited themselves to individual phases and major artists but, even with a certain risk of methodological murkiness, applied the concept transhistorically and dis¬ cerned it in all eras and styles ("ancient Baroque," "High Gothic Baroque," and so on). Later students of the Baroque, including Brinckmann, Weisbach, Voss, Munoz, Longhi, Fiocco and Marangoni, Pevsner, Wittkower, and Frey, continued to produce new findings and to achieve more precise historical definitions — for at the outset Baroque scholarship had included work on Michelangelo and even late Bramante (in Wolfflin, for instance). Even today the study of the Baroque needs stricter guidelines for dealing with its seemingly endless geographical and historical ramifications.

GEORG DEHIO Georg Dehio (1850-1932) was a central figure in tum-of-the-century art history.22 A native of Reval, he became a professor in Konigsberg and went on to teach in Strasbourg from 1892 to 1914. A specialist in German art, he once wrote: "My true hero is the German people. I mirror German history in the history of its art, a revelation of the life of the German soul." In his Methodenlehre der Kunstgeschichte (Strasbourg 1924) Robert Hedicke observed: In keeping with his intellectual roots, Dehio always regarded himself as an historian rather than an aesthetician, shying away from any large statements about aesthetics and method. His historical vocation would not let him distinguish between art historians and cultural and intellectual historians. Historian per se, while of course fully steeped in the major aesthetic monuments of Western tradi¬ tion, by avoiding overt system building he was able to keep his own art-historical intuitions free of outside influence, be it that of Hegel or Ranke, Dilthey, Wickhoff, Wolfflin, or Riegl: free to articulate his own perceptions without partisan inter¬ ferences. This made him more than an art historian. The broad scope of his interests, embracing the largest and the most particular historical problems alike, was unrivaled by his contemporaries, certainly by any other art historian. Besides the important studies Kirchliche Baukunst des Abendlandes (co-authored with G. von Bezold) and Geschichte der deutschen Kunst, Dehio's major contribution, and the effort of a good portion of his life, was a definitive inventory of German monuments.



Art History in the Grunderzeit

Dehio had traveled to Italy in 1876, thereupon changing his studies officially from history to art history, a great logistical help to his work. While Dehio always protested against "the cold, clinical concepts in art history, which only an unfeeling dilettante could adopt with any confidence," his own vigorous terminology and concepts, derived from his study of German architecture, had wide pedagogic influence. His handbooks and inventories, his work in historic preservation, and his participation in congresses and conferences helped promote the notion of art as a national resource. At the same time, he viewed the century into which he had been born as having no connection with tradition; he saw only the history of artists, not the history of art.



All domains of art in Germany bore the stamp of the Grunderzeit after 1871, but perhaps none had its character as decisively shaped in those decades as did the museum system. It would be no exaggeration to say that in the latter half of the nineteenth century a major part of art history was decided within the museums, for in them, as in the university, research and scholarly training were given equal attention. This was especially true of the museums of Berlin, directed by the so-called Bismarck of the Museums, Wilhelm von Bode (1845-1929); of Hamburg, directed by Justus Brinckmann (1843-1915) and Alfred Lichtwark (1852-1914); and of Dresden, directed by Woldemar von Seidlitz (1850-1922) and Karl Woermann (1844-1933). All of these men were crucial members of the German art establish-


XII Art History in the Grunderzeit

ment, whose own scholarship markedly influenced the overall shape of German art history. Almost all of them had been trained as connoisseurs, and, unlike Henry Thode, had had sound practical experience. Of all of them. Bode was unquestionably the central figure, a forceful administrator who took his legal exactitude with him when he transferred his studies from law to art history, often referring to a given painting's "circumstantial evidence."23 He began his formal training in art with the goals of a connoisseur but had also studied drawing with Steffeck, and had spent a good deal of time looking at art in print rooms and as a traveler. Waagen and the Baron von Liphart introduced him to the legacy of Rumohr. Bode had once con¬ sulted Waagen about his changing his career from law to art history, only to be told that the prospects looked quite hopeless since he himself was the only professional among German museum administrators. As an institutional figure, however, Bode represented a mentality quite characteristic of the period: like the Kaiser himself, he viewed parliamentary govern¬ ment as a symptom of decadence, and later considered the ultraconservative sculptor Josef Thorak a truly "contemporary" artist. Yet Bodes rather dictatorial temperament did at least allow him to turn museums into the public resources he wanted them to be. Commemorating Bodes seventieth birthday Karl Scheffler noted: "Before Bode, museums were run either by indifferent bureaucrats or honorifically by court painters. Bode was the first to turn them from being royal treasure houses and curiosity collections into being important civic landmarks, and to demonstrate their potential as state institutions." Bodes direct contact with art patrons and dealers in Berlin also allowed him to exert considerable influence on collecting.


XII Art History in the Grunderzeit

Bodes prepossessing character never seemed to impair his scholarship or accom¬ plishments. His self-confidence was neatly expressed in his memoirs (Mein Leben), and his colleagues lionized him, as in the following panegyric by Gustav Gliick: It is only appropriate to treat as a hero a man who has devoted more than half a century to the public good; who has reached the age of eighty still shoulder¬ ing enormous burdens that spring from an altruism to which terms such as "selflessness," "sense of sacrifice," or "unselfishness" do little justice; who has re¬ mained undaunted by the tremendous obstacles that ossified bureaucracies, in monarchies and republics alike, put in the paths of all important undertakings and by the frivolous attacks of uncomprehending journalists, dour hack-writers, and even narrow-minded and invidious colleagues; and who has remained un¬ daunted, finally, by the burden of age itself, which in most other cases saps, weakens, and even destroys a man's power.24 Bodes character was thus a present-day instance of Carlyle's "great man" that Herman Grimm, Carl Justi, Henry Thode, and Moritz Thausing were seeking for in the past. Werner Weisbach went so far as to call him "a force of nature, relentless in the pursuit of his goals." His achievement was accordingly great, or in any case very far-reaching: he reorganized the museums in Berlin, influenced the purchasing of art in other museums, and strengthened the collections of museums under him by personal donations. He also helped build up private collections in several different countries, wrote of his friend the painter Max Liebermann, and obtained the directorship of the Museum of Applied Arts (Kunstgewerbemuseum) for Bruno Paul, the embattled illustrator of the journal Simplizissimus. In addition. Bode wrote and published in areas that were often totally new for art research: German sculpture, Italian sculptors of the Renaissance, Rembrandt and his contemporaries, Italian bronze figurines, Botticelli, studies in Leonardo, and art of the Italian Renaissance, to name only some. One essay on contemporary art, "Eine neue deutsche Kunst in Sicht?", sets a decidedly proto-Nazi tone: In the visual arts as in all arts, we have entered a period of decadence, one that threatens to continue as long as global upheaval and worldwide struggle go on working their damage. No new art and no new challenge comes of Expressionism, Futurism, et cetera, for that art contains no new risk: Expressionism is only a pale product of Impressionism and so has nothing to do with art. These "isms" that messily, monstrously serve up matchboxes, leftovers, toothbrushes, and so on are an affront to the "sovereign art" of a free age!25 It was in this sense that the sculptor Josef Thorak represented a conquest over "symptoms of decadence" and the advent of a new art. While many of the material transformations wrought during the period were to re¬ main indelible for several generations, Grunderzeit also exacerbated the dualities of reason and emotions, being and illusion and, in so doing, forged a direct ideological link to the totalitarianisms of the twentieth century.





ccasionally art-historical research will focus on a single problematic work of art; then the range of opinions voiced offers an index of the state of the discipline as

a whole. An outstanding example of this is the controversy surrounding the Burgomaster Meyer Madonna by Hans Holbein the Younger, or rather the two versions of it, in Dresden and in Darmstadt, the latter finally proven to be Holbein's original from 1526, the former a seventeenth-century copy by Bartholomaus Sarburgh.1 Early in September of 1871 the Holbein congress in Dresden held a forum in which the earlier method of studying art, which consisted mostly of speculation based on literary sources, was proved wrong. An eye-opening comparison of the two paintings brought new important methodological results. False attributions abounded in the early days of art history. Thus, for a long time Giorgione's Sleeping Venus in Dresden was considered the work of one of his collaborators, or possibly a copy of a Titian by Sassoferrato. Giovanni Morelli was the first expert to rank it among Giorgione's own masterworks. The portrait of Charles de Solier, Sieur de Morette by Holbein, also in the Dresden Gallery, was long considered the work of Leo¬ nardo da Vinci, whom Rumohr alone ruled out in favor of its current ascription. The Holbein exhibition of 1871 was unprecedented and decisive in its function as a laboratory for problem-solving methods. By the time it was over, thirty-two of the fortysix "Holbeins" examined had to be demoted. Yet these were less controversial than the two Burgomaster Meyer Madonnas — the one that the civic pride of Dresden was now so eager to defend and its threatening twin, which had surfaced in Darmstadt only in 1822. The panel of authorities that compared these two paintings came to the unanimous decision that the Darmstadt version was Holbein's own. The broad cultural impact this decision had is very apparent in the following excerpt from an obituary for Albert von Zahn, who had been director of the Weimar Museum: And it was Zahn himself who initiated the famous Holbein convention. This was, so to speak, his great feat, though in the end he was appalled by its outcome. How he regretted his responsibility for that ordeal that deprived Dresden of its greatest German art treasure! And this regret is a lasting credit to his Saxon patriotism. Yet incomparably nobler was his will to have the truth at all costs, to have cleared away vast confusion and ushered in new standards of precision and new knowledge about early German painting. What were the causes of this crucial, yet all-but-forgotten, episode in art historiography? In 1516, a year after moving to Basel, Holbein made the acquaintance of its burgomaster.


XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

Burgomaster Meyer Madonna, Hans Holbein the Younger, 1526, Schlossmuseum, Darmstadt


XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

Burgomaster Meyer Madonna, Bartholomaus Sarburgh, 1633/38, Gemaldegalerie, Dresden


XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

Jakob Meyer, who commissioned two portraits, one of himself and one of his wife Dorothea (nee Kannegiesser). These portraits, united by Italianate architectural backgrounds, were made at the peak of Meyer's career. Meyer, bom in Basel in 1482, had been made burgomaster there after long and distinguished service to his native city. Yet his fortune shifted in 1521: he was dismissed from public office and imprisoned for a year on a charge of incompetence in his duties as money changer. In 1526, in the midst of major political and religious turmoil, Meyer commissioned another, larger work for the private chapel of his lakeside chateau, Grossen-Gundeldingen. He requested a life-size depiction of himself, his wife, and family, and also his first, deceased wife, in prayer at the feet of the Madonna. The painting would be the fulfillment of a votive pledge given in the event of his youngest son's recovery from an illness.

THE ORIGINAL MADONNA The painting that hangs today in the castle at Darmstadt was a work of Holbein's maturity; in it the artist employed an almost obsolete, medieval motif of Mary spreading a protective mantle. Holbein painted it the year it was commissioned and then two years later, returning to Basel from London, made various revisions and updatings: Meyer requested removal of the chin strap from the hood of his second wife and had the long tresses of his daughter in white, kneeling in the right foreground, tucked in to suit her recent betrothal. Jakob Meyer had this work painted by one of the most famous masters of his time as a manifestation of the old faith and of his traditional attitude. When Holbein permanently settled in London in 1532, Basel reformers were at work destroying most of the art that had been created under the old dogmas. As a family posses¬ sion, the Madonna went unscathed, but was sold by Meyer's descendents in 1606 to Johann Lucas Iselin (for a hundred gold crowns), sold again in 1633 to the French art dealer Le Blond, and still again to the art amateur Lossert, a bookdealer in Amsterdam, in 1638.

SARBURGH'S COPY Le Blond, realizing the great value of the painting, commissioned the painter Bartholomaus Sarburgh to make a copy, executed sometime between 1633 and 1638, and subsequently sold the copy to Maria de' Medici as a genuine Holbein. In this way two paintings with the same name, practically identical in appearance and hanging in European collections, began to tease art connoisseurs for some two centuries. Joachim von Sandrart, who had seen the original in Amsterdam, described it as “a standing figure of the Holy Mother with the Christ Child on her arm, and under her a rug on which several life-size figures are kneeling in prayer_" Sold off once more, to the Cromhout family in Amsterdam, it was then auctioned in 1709 and rediscovered in Paris only in 1822. Sarburgh's copy, meanwhile, had an eventful career of its own. From Maria de' Medici's estate it moved on to Venice, where it was discovered by Francesco Algarotti in the Palazzo Delfino and purchased for August II of Saxony; still, on the strength of old descriptions, it was assumed to be an original Holbein. Thus it entered the Dresden collections, where well into the nineteenth century it was venerated as a national treasure, taking its place beside the Sistine Madonna of Raphael. 144

XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

Up to this point its authenticity was understandably taken for granted. It was only when the Germans learned of a second version, sold by the Parisian art dealer Delahaute to Prince Wilhelm of Prussia in 1822, that debate arose among art experts, who were unable to establish the relationship between the two paintings. The original was evaluated in Berlin by Hirt in 1830, by Kugler in 1845, and by Waagen in 1853. The Romantic writer Ludwig Tieck advanced the interpretation that Holbein had exchanged the features of the infant Christ with those of Meyer's fully recovered son. Though ignorant of the facts behind the commission of the painting, Tieck had at least intuited the reality behind the work — though his widely accepted hypothesis (for example, by Gunther Grundmann) about the exchange of the two infants has never been verified.

COMPARISON OF THE PAINTINGS In 1851, the Holbein painting was sent from Berlin to Darmstadt, which started a seemingly endless round of comparisons between the two versions. Droves of art historians shuttled between Dresden and Darmstadt, precariously trying to keep in mind the details of both pictures. When the Archduke of Hessen finally consented to lend the painting to an exhibi¬ tion in Munich in 1869, there was hope among art experts that he might also allow it to travel to Dresden for the Holbein congress scheduled for 1871. The exhibition of both works was indeed allowed to take place and was opened of¬ ficially on August 16, 1871, by Prince George of Saxony. On September 5, the committee of leading art historians gathered to assess the works issued a signed statement reading as follows: The undersigned have reached the unanimous decision that: 1. The Darmstadt Madonna is indisputably the original work of Hans Holbein the Younger. 2. The heads of the Madonna, the Child, and the burgomaster have been con¬ siderably altered by later reworking. 3. The Dresden Madonna, conversely, is an independent copy bearing no trace of work by Holbein. A. Woltmann, M. Thausing, C. von Liitzow, A. Bayersdorfer, F. Lippmann, W. Liibke, B. Meyer, K. Woermann, G. Malsz, W. Bode At the same time, a public poll in Dresden declared the opposite view, backed by several prominent artists of the day (L. Richter, Schnorr von Carolsfeld, Friedrich Preller) who shared a natural enough distress at having a work so long admired suddenly devalued and divested of its supposed maker's hand. The counter-decree reads: We recognize the Meyer family Madonna in the Dresden Gallery as a genuine work by Hans Holbein the Younger, despite some minor details that suggest rework¬ ing by other hands. Holbein alone was capable of making the larger changes and improvements, to say nothing of creating the overall scheme of the painting, its spatial composition, and figural proportions. More essentially, however, no one but the master himself could have achieved the level of formal grace and ideality reached in the beautiful expression of the Madonna's face, far superior to that 145

XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

of the Darmstadt replica, and proof that the Dresden Madonna is still to be honored as a summit of German art.... Here, however, these artists were blinded in part by local interest. Gustav Theodor Fechner edited the transcripts and further analyses of the debate in Ueber die Aechtheitsfrage der Holbein'schen Madonna. Published in 1871, Fechner's collec¬ tion begins with an apology for his devoting so much space to so tangential a question; yet, as he goes on to explain, it was one that had come to assume considerable importance, however guided by local patriotic sentiment it first appeared: "The issue is not the authen¬ ticity of a masterpiece but possibly the masterpiece of German painting and the best-loved painting of the German people." Fechner in no way concealed the fact that he believed in the authenticity of the Dresden picture, or in any event believed it was a much earlier version than the one in Darmstadt. He realized the importance of the debate as a precedent for current art standards, though not the judgment he himself was casting upon it. As a partisan of the losing side of noncon¬ noisseurs and literary art enthusiasts, he tried again and again to draw attention away from questions of authenticity and toward interpretation, such as the matter of beauty. Yet the final verdict of this debate and all that had led up to it proved that criteria had evolved from literary and sentimental readings of works of art to solid facts and reasoning — case studies — refined over the last several decades by the connoisseurs. Around 1830 Professor Alois Hirt had proposed a critical compromise on the follow¬ ing grounds: "Both paintings are so excellent that it would be difficult to prefer one to the other and call one a copy, one an original. It would appear that the master simply copied his own work here, though to say which of the two paintings was the original would be a difficult task even for the most practiced eye." Yet if Hirt was unable to use his expertise for actual decision making, it was because he still lacked proper analytical tools for dealing with individual works of art. The "difficult task" was a matter for the new practical methods of the connoisseurs, not the fundamentally literary premises of the Romantic critics. The experts first involved in the Holbein controversy confirmed this. As early as 1844 Franz Kugler had doubted the authenticity of the Dresden version on the basis of what he perceived to be all-too-modern features in the head of the Madonna: "I can only think that the almost feminine rendering of this figure ... was quite foreign to a painter as vigorous as Holbein." He also considered the greenish flesh tones highly uncharacteristic. But the Darmstadt version raised no such objections: he described it, on the contrary, as "a thoroughly consistent whole." Conversely, Hans Joachim Forster, in his 1852 Geschichte der Kunst, praised the coherence of the Dresden 'Madonna," while granting some partial merits to its Darmstadt rival. Here again, as with Hirt, the hesitancy to decide one way or another was symptomatic of greater methodological uncertainty. The director of the Berlin Gemaldegalerie, Gustav Friedrich Waagen, agreed with Kugler's opinion and wrote about the Darmstadt painting: "In its handling it is even more characteristic of Holbein's broader and more vigorous execution. It is surely the earlier of the two, which originally had been found in a church in Basel." Yet at that time he still considered the Dresden version to be Holbein's work. Julius Hiibner, the director of the Dresden Gallery, staunchly opposed Kugler's verdict: "With all due respect to this eminent art historian, we must admit we find his reasons insuf¬ ficient." Yet even when Hiibner's catalogue description for the Madonna indulged the local


XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

bias, it credited the Darmstadt painting with also being the work of Holbein, later sug¬ gesting it was an earlier work — though as Hiibner cautioned, early by no means implied better. After close examination of both works in 1865, Albert von Zahn came to the conclu¬ sion that ...the painting in Darmstadt is a definite Holbein, executed before the Dresden version. Yet he also adhered to the belief that the Dresden picture was Holbein's work.

THE VICTORY OF THE CONNOISSEUR While Kugler and Waagen were able to argue convincingly for the authenticity of the Darm¬ stadt Madonna, it remained for them, and for other experts, to prove that the Dresden painting was not Holbein's work. And even though Alfred Woltmann, one of the most respected Holbein scholars of the era and a professor at Karlsruhe, still urged a compromise, since he supported the findings of both men but also believed the Dresden Madonna to be Holbein's work, the truth was now irrevocably on its way. At this point foreign experts began to intervene on behalf of their German colleagues. With an unprecedented matter-of-factness, Nicholas Ralph Wornum, the superintendent of the National Gallery in London, declared in a piece written in 1867, Some Account of the Life and Works of Hans Holbein, that the celebrated Dresden Madonna was only an inferior copy. In the same year Otto Miindler's description for the Dresden Gallery catalogue stated that "the entire work can be considered a copy on the basis of its handling; the flesh is without any glow." On second inspection of the work, Karl von Liphart, an independent scholar settled in Horence, reversed his opinion in favor of the Darmstadt version. True to his Romantic outlook, Herman Grimm wrote: How one could ascribe the painting in Dresden to anyone but Holbein is beyond me. Three times last autumn I visited Darmstadt and each time spent hours before that work, holding a photographic reproduction of the Dresden "Madonna" to compare them stroke for stroke; and each stroke of the Dresden version, from individual outlines to the whole ensemble of figures, partakes of a far greater ideality, a heightening, that unquestionably reveals the master's hand. Grimm went on to play upon national sentiment by invoking the soul of Holbein; and to justify flaws in the Dresden painting, he discerned the work of two hands, Holbein's own in the heads and in the kneeling figures on the right and an assistant's for the rest of the work.2 Carl Schnaase also viewed it as a collaboration, though his attempt to justify it as a Holbein relegated different details to an assistant: chiefly the rug and the jewelry of the female figures.3 In 1869 Gottfried Kinkel, then a professor in Zurich, seconded Womum's verdict and was the first scholar to place the date of execution of the Dresden picture at some distance from Holbein. But in most current discussion earlier opinion prevailed. For example, in 1869 Theodor Grosse argued for the greater beauty and more finely proportioned figures of the Dresden version. Eventually, though, the inadequacy of this vague and unprofessional idiom became quite clear. Some time before the two Madonnas were brought together, Joseph Archer Crowe, then serving as consul general in Leipzig, had written in the journal Grenzboten: "It can scarcely be disputed that the work hanging in Darmstadt is an original, executed long before its Dresden replica. Yet two questions, still quite variously answered, persist: whether the


XIII The Dresden Holbein Debate

Darmstadt version is indeed superior in composition, draftsmanship, and characterization; and whether the Dresden replica is the work of Holbein himself, or of his school, or a much later copyist." While Dresdeners, often out of patriotic and sentimental urges, made their vague aesthetic appeals, connoisseurs such as Crowe — who of course epitomized the disinterested critic — were able to deal with questions of quality and originality, which in Crowe's case at least led to the essential point that "the central issue should be technique. Decisions should rest entirely on establishing the exact criteria according to which Holbein may be considered the creator of both paintings in question." Here, in fact, Crowe demonstrated that the bin¬ ding medium of the pigment in the Dresden picture should alone have discredited it. In 1870 the Berlin critic Bruno Meyer (erroneously cited in an American art journal as a descendent of the burgomaster himself) reached the later widely accepted verdict: "If the planned confrontation of the two Madonnas takes place in Dresden this fall, as I eagerly hope it will, I think we shall soon come to regard the Dresden 'Holbein' as the intriguing monument to an elaborate misunderstanding." The commission in Dresden came to precisely this conclusion in its statement of September 5, 1871, on the genuineness of the Darmstadt painting. In a passage in the fourth volume of his Geschichte der Kunst, Karl Woermann, the Dresden Gallery's director, would seem to have brought to a conclusion one of the most suspenseful and interesting episodes in German art historiography: "The celebrated 'Burgomaster Meyer Madonna' in Darmstadt, a work of 1525 [sic], whose excellent if somewhat badly altered replica in Dresden was, before the research of Zahn, Woltmann, Bayersdorfer, and the author, long considered the original, is now regarded as the only version by Holbein. The Dresden copy, as Ernst Major has proved, was made for the French queen Maria Medici [sic] in Amsterdam around 1636 by the court painter, Bartholomaus Sarburgh." It is still highly instructive to compare the two Madonnas, and to compare them fur¬ ther with Mauritius Steinla's 1841 copy of the Dresden painting. To use the language of Wolfflin's Principles of Art History, the anachronistic elements of the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century versions are apparent in the altered relations of figure and space and in the shifted direction of the elder son's gaze (slightly askance in the first copy, straight out at the viewer in the second). But Wolfflin's systematic method, developed a half century later, goes back to the accomplishments of the very authorities we have just been citing. The Holbein debate vindicated the claims of art history to furnish objectively valid conclusions and practically derived solutions. As Albert von Zahn boasted in his account of the event: "From examining the Holbein exhibition ... it is evident to all concerned that collective effort has actually shed new light on the master's work — all his work, moreover, not merely the fourteen canvases authenticated in Dresden, thanks to the new critical stand¬ ards. ... The merits of group scholarship have perhaps never been as forcefully demonstrated as here."4 The reign of source criticism and of Romantic intuition had come to an end. Art history had proved its coming-of-age in an impressive show of methodological rigor.




he chromatic experimentation of Impressionist painting brought new content and a new sense of freedom to art; and art historiography, often in direct contact with Im¬

pressionism, placed new emphasis on the art of past eras. The Viennese art historian Franz Wickhoff, for example, brought his involvement with Impressionism to bear on analagous stylistic phases of prior eras, such as Roman art, and in general late phases of styles that had formerly been considered unworthy of scholarly attention. The art historian Richard Hamann (1879-1961) wrote an extensive, indeed overambitious, "sketch" entitled Der Impressionismus in Leben und Kunst, which attempted to relate contemporary art to efforts in earlier times, particularly to the late styles of Rembrandt, Beethoven, and Goethe.1 In addition, he treated Impressionism as the very terminus of style itself. Like Wickhoff, Hamann used criteria drawn from Impressionist art to elucidate Hellenistic art, Roman imperial art, and the Rococo. And in keeping with the synaesthetic urges of his day, he also included analogies to classical music, literature, and philosophy along with painting. Henry Thode, on the other hand, represented an official stance toward Impressionism: he found it inartistic, immoral, and "un-German." He termed it "cabaret art" and won the hearty approval of the German public in so doing. This moralistic backlash spread at a time when French art historians were at last able to legitimize the Impressionist movement with some finality, as in Theodore Duret's Histoire des peintres impressionistes, published in 1878.

THE GONCOURT BROTHERS The climate that fostered Impressionism also permitted a reappraisal of the art of the eigh¬ teenth century. The Goncourt brothers, Edmond (1822-1896) and Jules (1830-1870), writers, painters, graphic artists, and art historians, published their imposing L'Art du XVllle siecle between 1856 and 1865 (a complete edition in three volumes appeared in 1906).2 In addi¬ tion, their Etudes dart and reviews of the Salons of the 1850s testify to the important role they played in art history in nineteenth-century France, chiefly in the vogue they helped create for Japanese art, with a monograph on Utamaro in 1891 and one on Hokusai in 1896. Their magnum opus, L'Art du XVllle siecle, was a triumph of historical presentation as well as of the brothers' relaxed style. It focused on the few artists whose works they regarded as crystallizations of eighteenth-century artistry: Watteau, Chardin, Boucher, La Tour, Greuze, and the Saint-Aubin brothers. The importance of the study lay beyond its vivid descrip-


XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

tiveness, however; it entered the canon of art history because of its extensive and apt use of letters and other documentary material.

WALTER PATER AND THE RENAISSANCE Like the Goncourts, Walter Pater (1839-1894) was essentially an essayist and critic rather than a scholar of art.3 Won over to art by Ruskin's Modem Painters, he became one of the most influential aesthetic arbiters in the Anglo-Saxon world. After studying in England and Germany, he traveled to Italy in 1865. His passion for the Italian Renaissance, sparked by Ruskin and fed by his immediate contact with its art, led to reassessments of Botticelli, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and others in his first book. Studies in the History of the Renaissance, published in 1873. Pater had previously written essays for various periodicals, among them, the celebrated portrait of Winckelmann published in the Westminster Review of 1866; but his often-reprinted volume on the Renaissance, one of the most widely read books on art in the English-speaking world, became something of a sacred text, enormously influential on writers such as Oscar Wilde (who called it his "golden book"), Arthur Symons, William Butler Yeats, and Bernard Berenson. Marius the Epicurean, the philosophical novel that Pater had begun in 1878 and more or less completed in Rome in 1882, was published in 1885 in two volumes. Bernard Beren¬ son, the American art historian, spoke of it as his vade mecum to the aesthetic life. Yet it was this extremely refined vision of life rather than Pater's actual writings that no doubt influenced most of his contemporaries, particularly the younger ones. Unlike Jakob Burckhardt, whose interests Pater shared — Burckhardt's Geschichte der Renaissance in Italien had been published in 1867 — but much like the Goncourts, Pater had a direct involvement with contemporary art. It was largely through his influence that the French Impressionists were successfully received in England. As his vision of Watteau in the Imaginary Portraits, in the tale "A Prince Among Court Painters," vividly makes clear, Pater admitted no division between life, the world, and the aesthetic sphere. He was a master of historical atmosphere, of conveying the transient qualities of an age rather than its overt facts and dates. The German literary scholar Wolfgang Iser characterized Pater's imagina¬ tion as one that "infiltrates a given object to ransom it from its mere factualness. The process exemplifies the Impressionist optic' which consults an object-world only with the aim of transforming it."4 Passages by Pater on Titian, Tintoretto, or Rubens, for instance, clearly reveal his af¬ finity with the luminosity of the Impressionists. "These essential pictorial qualities must first of all delight the sense, delight it as directly and sensuously as a fragment of Venetian glass.... In its primary aspect, a great picture has no more definite message for us than an accidental play of sunlight and shadow for a few moments on the wall or floor...." Pater has often been faulted for propagating art-for-art's-sake, for having insufficient technical knowledge, and for lacking historical precision. Yet it would be hard to overestimate the impact his ideas exerted on the sense of form of twentieth-century art and criticism. A final quotation from the preface to History of the Renaissance may best represent Pater's view of the critic's role: The aesthetic critic, then, regards all the objects with which he has to do, all works of art, and the fairer forms of nature and human life, as powers or forces produc150

XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

ing pleasurable sensations, each of a more or less peculiar and unique kind.... And the function of the aesthetic critic is to distinguish, analyse, and separate from its adjuncts, the virtue by which a picture, a landscape, a fair personality in life or in a book, produces this special impression of beauty or pleasure, to indicate what the source of that impression is, and under what conditions it is experienced. His end is reached when he has disengaged that virtue, and noted it, as a chemist notes some natural element, for himself and others... .What is important, then, is not that the critic should possess a correct abstract definition of beauty for the intellect, but a certain kind of temperament, the power of being deeply moved by the presence of beautiful objects.

THE INTEGRATION OF AESTHETICS AND ART HISTORY Wilhelm Waetzoldt once referred to Robert Vischer (1847-1933) as "one of the most brilliant Impressionists of art historiography," and indeed Vischer, son of the philosopher Friedrich Theodor Vischer, did much to make art history a true science.5 He himself, of course, was significantly guided in his early development by his famous father and by the frequent presence of men like the poet Eduard Morike, or his godfathers, the writer Ludwig Uhland and the theologian David F. Strauss. Vischer completed his doctoral studies at Tubingen in 1872, with the thesis Ueber das optische Formgefuhl, published the following year in Stuttgart with the subtitle Ein Beitrag zur Aesthetik, inspired by his fathers then-well-known theories, though also, in several matters, going far beyond them. He minutely analyzed seeing and looking, defined the notion of empathy, and, to further elucidate the artistic process itself, divided apperception into highly nuanced and untranslatable components of sense or feeling (Fuhlung): Anfuhlung, Nachfuhlung, Zufiihlung. Some of his conceptual pairs — draftsmanlike (zeichnerisch) and painterly (plastisch-malerisch), for instance — herald certain later distinctions in Wolfflin. Here it already becomes clear that the way to the actual work of art originates in aesthetics, that is, in a philosophical discipline. Largely guided by the example of Wilhelm Wundt, Vischer confidently mingled methods of examination in aesthetics, psychology, and art history. Vischer was never one to keep within the limits of a single field. Hermann Glockner credited him with setting the direction of modem aesthetics. His impact on art history has been in¬ adequately appreciated, primarily because of the harsh criticism given essays such as "Der asthetische Akt und die reine Form"6 or "Ueber asthetische Naturbetrachtung."7 In these essays Robert Vischer proved unwilling to remain the mere aesthetician his father had been and eagerly took up concrete problems. Vischer's academic appointments would seem to be the only significant biographical facts of his maturity. From 1875 to 1879 he was an instructor (Scriptor) at the Vienna Academy; in 1880 he became a lecturer (Privatdozent) at the University of Munich and in 1882 an associate professor at the University of Breslau, moving to the Technische Hochschule at Aachen in 1885. In 1892 he was made a full professor at Gottingen, where he taught until 1911. Though sometimes treated patronizingly by his colleagues, Vischer influenced many young art historians. One, Werner Weisbach, wrote of his first dealings with him: There was a placid quality about his burly form and heavy gait; his massive head, with its pointed beard, was most impressive. Yet it was hard to feel at ease with the diffidence and hesitation he registered at the start of any acquaintance. Only 151

XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

after, when one had passed the test, he unwound and became generous, lively, eloquent. Yet he guarded his privacy to the point of reclusiveness and demanded full respect and attention with, I must say, sometimes less than full reciprocity. A Southern German to the core, he rather looked down on Northerners, and it was an irony of fate that when he finally won his professorship it should be as far north as Gottingen, where he made his discomfort quite plain. He never once concealed the fact that he viewed his appointment to that rather gray and arid Prussian outpost as exile_His deep need for independence estranged him from both the military and professorial character that many academicians there seemed to combine. Free of the fussy antiquarianism that abounded there, he was in the best sense a dilettante a la Burckhardt — who, by the way, had a similar contempt for Bismarckian Prussia in the reign of Wilhelm II. Vischer wanted no part of its swagger and arrogance and rampant materialism; his resistance kept him from ever once visiting Berlin, despite the lure of its vast new museum system — Bodes operation simply put him off. Then too, he could not forgive the connoisseurs and the leading genetic historians there for their attacks on his writing. Anyone who came close to Vischer soon had to learn to put up with unending invective against his critics. The brief essay "Kunstgeschichte und Humanismus, Beitrage zur Klarung" best states Vischer's aims. Already in the preface he pleads against the artificial barrier between art history and aesthetics, which he sought to pull down. He considered that the art historian should strive for a totality: "I should like to suggest that the art historian, far from thinking it his complete business to stockpile certain facts, should be involved not only with the main tenets of aesthetics but the whole flesh-and-blood person: the eyes, the feelings, the fan¬ tasies, and the soul." Vischer could lash out temperamentally at times against the critics of his efforts to see art history and aesthetics as a unity. He wanted aesthetics to be treated not as something icy, dull, or dead, but as something filled with life and thus to contribute to pushing art history again toward greater coherence. Like Justi, he was unsparing towards academic philistinism: "In the great mid-nineteenth-century shed of art history, various proud young turkeys began gobbling and putting up a fuss against all that Mother Philosophy was putting in their feed." All naturalism, as distinct from realism, struck the staunchly idealistic Vischer as an aberration, and he demanded an accord between art history and its object: "But since all genuine art is ideal, art history fails to do justice to its object when it regards it as merely material, external, nonideal; the more it mistakes the true nature of its subject matter, the less rigorous and exact it becomes." Today this polemic against purely material concerns of art historians tends to sound a bit alarmist: Those who find nothing more interesting in art than dates, facts, and objects — parchments, brushes, pigments — scarcely do more than ape medieval calendar makers, stone carvers, plasterers, chroniclers and pamphleteers. If art history is this self-defeating, no wonder it goes unrecognized; and if it goes on making a laughingstock of itself by a myopic attention to cataloguing, fact checking, source hunting, footnote compiling, bogged down in questions ot technique, then it should not be surprised when uneducated artists scorn it as intellectual busywork and


XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

hack writing. Then only those who can actually paint, mold, or build can speak with authority, and the art dealer can take pride in his precious eye which has learned to know and value the works of a master. And then all hot words prove massive ignorance, and empty phrases take the place of true knowledge. Vischer appealed for an internal unity in art-historical research, which must extend in dif¬ ferent directions and use various methods. In 1886 Vischer published his Studien zur Kunstgeschichte. One essay in it, "Zur Kritik mittelalterlicher Kunst," offered a programmatic and Impressionist-inspired polemic against the notion of "decadent" eras. He wanted to rehabilitate the image of late Byzantine paint¬ ing. His further defenses of late Gothic and Baroque, other eras then held in official disrepute, anticipated several aspects of the work of Alois Riegl and the Vienna School. Vischer reserved his greatest enthusiasm for the painting of Rubens, whose sensuousness appealed to him as it had to Burckhardt and Wilhelm Heinse. Vischer subtitled his monograph on Rubens, which he published in 1904, Ein Biichlein fur unziinftige Kunstfreunde. As his foreword explains: "The following material is for laymen, and I use that term not only for others but for myself as well, for I include myself among them since I am not a painter and cannot as yet lay claim to having seen all the artist's works." After a brief preliminary biography of Rubens, the text bursts out with: "Who does not feel the artist's fiery temperament, flaring, rearing, bristling in these pictures? This is art that grips and elates us like a brisk ride on horseback!" It is a sentence often quoted to illustrate the characteristic style of impressionistic criticism; yet whatever else one may think of it, it is hard not to admire its freshness and verve, the genuine modesty of its appre¬ ciativeness, rivaled only by its real feeling for the material. The writing itself is as gripping and elating as "a brisk ride on horseback." Vischer's book displays considerable erudition without intimidating a general audience. It remains eminently readable, with an impact ex¬ tending beyond the close circle of the discipline. In the Rubens monograph that Jakob Burckhardt published almost simultaneously, the art lover was similarly allowed to prevail over the art scholar; and though Burckhardt was a sworn enemy of Impressionist art, the color, vitality, and sensuality he brought to writing on art was decidely Impressionist. It was no accident, of course, that Vischer's writing often focused on the effects of color and technique. The art of the day, which had rediscovered pure color, corresponded to arthistorical writing in which color was seen in a new way, indeed was consciously included in criticism for the first time. Here again Vischer's prose could grow rhapsodic: "His palette glows with all the health of blood and milk, a vision of plump, robust children at their bath." Vischer's vitality did much to restore the connection of art history both to aesthetics and to contemporary life. His thought and terminology paved the way for a so-called arthistory-without-names, for Wolfflin and the Vienna School; and his theoretical refinements on the role of color proved valuable to modem art criticism.

THE PRESENT AS NORM As demonstrated throughout this book, the art-historical insights of artists and writers often precede the work of art historians. Baudelaire offers a prime example. The painter Camille Pissaro also had extraordinary historical insights. In a letter of February 17, 1884, to his son, he wrote concerning Daumier: 153

XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

My dear son, To clarify what I mean when I speak of "creativity," I sent you some lithographs by Daumier. I know you received them but, not having heard from you, can only conclude they failed to impress you very much. Yet in every way they are utterly miraculous works, and I cannot look at them without having a sense of the colossal importance of their creator. Consider this at least: if we speak of them as "finished" works, it is mainly because they have been fully thought out, fully "constructed." His handling of arms, legs, and feet is worthy of the greatest of great masters.... Pissarro's appreciation of Daumier's importance was almost unique for the time, an¬ ticipating the critical favor the artist first found with Julius Meier-Graefe (1867-1935), one of the leading critical reformers of the turn of the century and another figure whose insight into contemporary works changed our vision of the art of other eras.8 Meier-Graefe, the son of a civil servant, was born in the Banat to a West¬ phalian family. He began his studies in Munich in 1888, spent a semester in Zurich in 1889, and went on for further study in Liittich. That same year he made his first trip to Paris, where he began to write fiction. In 1890 he traveled to Berlin, studing art history with Herman Grimm and attending lectures by Georg Simmel, Heinrich von Treitschke, and Adolf Wagner. His first novella, Ein Abend bei Laura, came out in 1890, followed by the novel Nach Norden in 1893, published by the prestigious Fischer Verlag. In Berlin his friends included Otto Julius Bierbaum, Richard Dehmel, Stanislaw Przybyczewski, August Strind¬ berg, and Edvard Munch. In fact, Munch's work was the subject of Meier-Graefe's Julius Meier-Graefe

first art criticism. In 1894 Meier-Graefe founded the important journal Pan, in which he would soon be publishing his own writings beside those of Baron von Bodenhausen, Count Kessler, and Wilhelm von Bode. At least the last of these distinguished men viewed the young art historian with some suspicion, for as Bode recounted: "Owing to my close association with well-to-do collectors and patrons in Berlin, the actual organizers [of Pan] considered my support of their project indispensible, and they had Julius Meier-Graefe, the review's ap¬ pointed editor, solicit it — which he did repeatedly and in such a queer and brazen manner that, even though I quite welcomed the idea of an ambitious new art journal, I found myself able to assist only very grudgingly." In any case, Meier-Graefe soon resigned as editor of Pan when he moved to Paris in 1895; there, with Henry van de Velde, he founded Maison modeme. Two more novels of his were published in the same year: Piirst Lichtenarm and Der Prinz. In the following year he founded another journal, Dekorative Kunst, and published his study of the graphic artist Felix Vallotton. His book Manet und der Impressionismus came out in 1897-98. It was in Paris too that Meier-Graefe began an exhaustive history of modem art, com¬ pleted in 1903, which offered a new assessment of nineteenth-century French painting and placed Delacroix, Manet, Monet, Cezanne, and van Gogh within the development of art history. His later works were mostly an elaboration of the canon of artists set up in his Entwicklungsgeschichte der modemen Kunst: a study of Renoir was published in 1911, another on Manet in 1912, one on Delacroix in 1913, and a new edition of the Entwicklungsgeschichte was published in 1914. Cezanne und sein Kreis appeared in 1918, Degas in 1920, Vincent in 1922, and a volume of collected essays called Die doppelte Kurve in 1924.


XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

Meier-Graefe was well aware of his role as a mediator between artists and the public. He was one of the great explorers in the world of art and discoverer of the almost wholly uncharted realm of nineteenth-century French art; his unprecedented study on Hans von Marees attested to his interest in German art as well. Not that this was enough to correct his reputation as a francophile who was considered a "national traitor” in Germany: the painter Emil Nolde branded him an enemy of German art.” As he grew older, Meier-Graefe lost much of his receptivity to new artistic developments: he remained indifferent or perhaps even resistant to Rousseau, Picasso, and Klee. It has rightly been said of him that "he re¬ mained bound to his own era —and yet 'his own era' is inconceivable without him."9 In Der Fall Bocklin und die Lehre von den Einheiten of 1905 Meier-Graefe hoped to show German-speaking philistines that they were flattering themselves in vain by accepting the Swiss painter as a modem; they were victims of a delusion. As he explained, Bocklin's appeal lay rather in his offering the public, at a time when genuine painting left them cold, images with "solid, universal ideas and sure associations, as in the past when a Madonna could still lead the viewer to thoughts of God — not to this or that artist, critic, dealer, finan¬ cier. .. .And if one could not still be led to God, was it not still possible to reach the mighty, and all too comfortable, domain of truth and beauty? There it was for the having, their German art — the rolling eyes and heaving bosoms." An amusing story Meier-Graefe tells shows how little this diatribe against Bocklin was understood by those for whom it was intended: I was lecturing in Hamburg, thundering up on the podium, and between Richard Dehmel and Alfred Lichtwark I could see an old dowager seated, with snowwhite hair and very animate features, who never took her eyes off me. At moments of particular rancor, when the venom was flowing, I thought I could hear that noble creature making soft sounds of approval. Then, at the end of the lecture, as everyone else in the audience shuffled out rather dejectedly, she alone approached me, slowly and with great poise stared me straight in the eye, and declared: "You have read my very thoughts: for me, too, he stands above anyone else. Germans on the whole were constitutionally incapable of following Meier-Graefe's crusade against Bocklin, which was, in all fairness, at least partially due to his near-total absorption in French painting: "Bocklin has to consult obscure scenarios for his material or nothing would take place in his pictures. He bends over backwards to make the strange as strange as it can be, twists everything into grimaces: it is a fictive world materialized. His horrific battle scenes, for instance, attempt to numb the viewer with their carnage, his horsemen of the apocalypse are calculated to nauseate." Though tainted by bias and false premises, Meier-Graefe's view of Bocklin was understandably a would-be corrective for the far worse motives that made Bocklin the favorite artist of his generation. It is irrelevant to Meier-Graefe's stature as an art historian that he denied being one at all, or at least being a "professional" one. Despite certain limitations, he saw the art of his age with remarkable clarity and fully understood the ascendant role that nineteenthcentury French painting would assume in the history of art. In an obituary for Meier-Graefe, Benno Reifenberg wrote: "One may safely say that the French themselves first came to ap¬ preciate their own artists through the values he taught them, that it took a foreigner, and a German at that, to make them see the international significance of the achievements of their artists."


XIV Impressionist Aesthetics

It was Meier-Graefe's great merit to have openly revealed and, so in a sense, created existing realities, to have weighed his facts by first transcending the common assumptions of the era. This freedom could come only from seeing the past and present as an indissoluble whole, as his own writing attests: "One must first love Poussin to love Paris." The conquests of impressionistic art history and criticism were made with fervor, strength, and affirmativeness. Amid testimonial statements for Meier-Graefe's sixtieth birthday, the playwright Gerhart Hauptmann remarked: "Meier-Graefe has an artist's temperament, which is to say affirmative rather than negative. When he affirms, he is always convincing — when he negates, he can be a little less so." On the same occasion Hugo von Hofmannsthal praised the power of his intuitive analyses, "which no mere art historian could attain." Emil Waldmann said of the artistic canon Meier-Graefe bequeathed to the next genera¬ tion of art historians and critics: "It was an aesthetic sprung from modernity, from a Manet that none of us knew, yet that seemed to contain the whole of French art history; when it was revealed to us, suddenly Delacroix, Fragonard, Rubens — even Tintoretto, Velazquez, El Greco — leapt from the canvas like contemporaries. And that was the art history lesson we most needed."




ike Florence in the sixteenth century, Rome in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and Berlin in the first half of the nineteenth century, fin-de-siecle Vienna became the

center for art-historical research and debate. Its methods and findings are still much with us. The home of Sigmund Freud, Karl Kraus, and Adolf Loos, Vienna, combining its Baroque tradition with a modem critical spirit, was a natural breeding ground for scholarly innova¬ tion. Art historians there demanded both extreme historical precision and personal familiarity with original works, giving equal weight to the two terms that made up the compound "art history," its specifically artistic and specifically historical aspects. Horizons well beyond the bounds of traditional art history opened up in the process, including new attention on the part of scholars to the practical question of the preservation of monuments. The influence of the school extended far beyond Austria, particularly to England and the United States, and can best be summed up by the names Bode, Thode, Berliner, Sobotka, Saxl, Kris, Frohlich-Bum, Kaufmann, Sedlmayr, Pacht, Tolnay, Hahnloser, Kurz, and Gombrich. Of the many accounts of the school's development written by its members, those of Julius von Schlosser and Dagobert Frey probably remain the most valuable.1 The diversity of interpretations of the school by its own members is not surprising, given not only its wide range of interests but its power plays and personal intrigues as well. In his essay "Die Wiener Schule der Kunstgeschichte — Riickblick auf ein Sakulum deutscher Gelehrtenarbeit in Oesterreich," Julius von Schlosser divided the phases of the school into the customary ages of art historiography, with a prehistory and forebears. Middle Ages, Renaissance, Baroque, and as yet unknown heirs.

THE BACKGROUND OF THE SCHOOL Julius von Schlosser set the inception of the Vienna School, or in any case its "prehistory," much further back than Frey did when he referred to G. A. von Heider as its founder. Heider (1819-1897), like several of his North German contemporaries, came to art history after a legal education; as a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Education, he had considerable power to influence cultural reforms. In this respect his life somewhat resembles that of his near-contemporary, Franz Kugler, though, whereas Kugler's revolutionary beginnings bore almost instantaneous scholarly results, the work of the Vienna School was to reach its pin¬ nacle only after several decades. Like Kugler, too, Heider pursued his work in art and architectural history alongside his administrative duties. In 1855 he published his study of the church of Schongrabem, a town outside Vienna.


XV The Vienna School

Like members of the Berlin School and contemporary French art historians, Heider first sought to understand his own artistic tradition, to make sense of a past that was im¬ periled, works that were badly in need of restoration: a practical situation we have seen occur throughout the nineteenth century. Beginning in 1856 Heider edited the journal Mitteilungen samt Jahrbuch der k.k. Zentralkommission zur Erforschung und Erhaltung der Kunst- und historischen Denkmale. The yearbook became the leading publication not only for Austrian scholars but also for foreigners such as Carl Schnaase, Wilhelm Liibke, and Anton Springer.

RUDOLF VON EITELBERGER If Julius von Schlosser considered Heider a precursor of the Vienna School, he referred to Rudolf von Eitelberger as its actual founding father.2 Eitelberger (1817-1885), bom in Olmiitz, also studied law at first, then transferred into the field of Romance philology, in which he lectured from 1839 to 1848. His acquaintance with Joseph Daniel Bohm, whose private art collection became the cornerstone for the Austrian Museum, was to be of crucial impor¬ tance to the young scholar. Eitelberger began his curatorial career in 1846 by mounting a large and quite successful historically oriented show of Old Master paintings. In 1847 he was given an instructorship in art history and theory. In 1848 he was active as a pro-Revolutionary newspaper editor; he later brought much of his political fervor to his art teaching and criticized the more staid methods of the academy director Ferdinand Waldmiiller, in his publication Die Reform des Kunstunterrichts und Professor Waldmullers Lehrmethode. It was a polemic only against the director's pedagogy, not his art, an assault on an almost mechanical copying of nature. Eitelberger accepted an invitation in 1850 to give a lecture series on the history of art, which he inaugurated with the talk "Die Bildungsanstalten fur Kiinstler und ihre historische Entwicklung." With his organizing talents Eitelberger also tried to reform the study of art history itself. He was assisted in this by the government minister Leo Thun, who had influence over most official cultural projects in Austria. For all that, the emperor refused Thun's request to have Eitel¬ berger be granted a full professorship, and did so without any explana¬ tion. Thun did however manage to secure his protege a travel grant to Italy, and on a second try he convinced Franz Joseph to give him full tenure in Vienna as professor of art history and archaeology. Eitelberger, having traveled beyond Italy to France and England, received the good news of his appointment while in London. Doubtless the emperor's first refusal went back to Eitelberger's sub¬ versive activity in 1848. Thun apparently knew just how to allay the emperor's doubts. In any case, there was no one in Vienna more qualified to present art history as a rigorous academic discipline. Eitelberger himself had made very sound, precise suggestions to Thun about administration, and it was obviously attractive for Vienna to keep pace with Berlin where a university chair in art history had been created for Waagen in 1844. Eitelberger's first pedagogical concern was to build a solid visual Rudolf von Eitelberger


foundation for his courses, and so original works were always on view

XV The Vienna School

for his students. Meanwhile, in addition to his scholarly activities, he continued to write as a journalist about political matters. By working with Thun on curriculum expansion in art history, he was also able to draw experts in other disciplines to the university in Vienna. The creation in 1854 of the Austrian Institute for Historical Research was especially crucial to the development of iconographic study. But Eitelberger's greatest achievement was founding the Austrian Museum for Art and Industry, officially celebrated at a ball in the Imperial Palace on May 24, 1864, but actually completed and opened in its own building in 1871. It was a project that only Eitelberger was vigorous enough to conceive and carry through, inspired as he was by the newly founded Victoria and Albert Museum which he had seen while visiting the 1862 World Exposition in London. The Austrian Museum was the first museum of applied arts on the Continent, and Eitelberger helped shape its objectives by editing its journal, Mitteilungen des Oesterreichischen Museums, and delivering lectures there every Thursday. It was Eitelberger who started a tradition in the Vienna School of cooperation between the university and the museum. In an effort to avoid academic abstraction, all lectures and seminars were conducted with close examination of works in the museums of the city and in other collections. This was a policy later taken over by Thausing and Wickhoff and main¬ tained throughout the school's existence by Julius von Schlosser. In old age Eitelberger proudly declared: "Almost all the important art experts in Austria today were students of mine at some point, and the few that were not will no doubt admit how gladly, and how impartially, I helped whatever art-historical efforts I considered worthwhile." The fact that many im¬ portant German art historians — Robert Vischer, Justus Brinckmann, Hugo von Tschudi, and Hubert Janitschek, among others — traveled to Vienna for their training confirms Eitelberger's boast. It was the union of museum and university that created the invaluable and still highly useful journal, the Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des allerhochsten Kaiserhauses. In 1871 Eitelberger also began to publish Quellenschriften fur Kunstgeschichte und Kunsttechnik des Mittelalters und der Renaissance, thereby launching that branch of the school devoted to the history of art historiography itself, which was later brilliantly continued by Julius von Schlosser. Between 1858 and 1860 Eitelberger's publication in Stuttgart of the two-volume atlas Mittelalterliche Kunstdenkmaler des osterreichischen Kaiserstaates, the first such work in German-speaking countries, also opened up the field of art topography.

MORITZ THAUSING AND HIS RELATION TO MORELLI Eitelberger led the Vienna School into maturity and "middle age" with the help of a colleague nearly two decades his junior. Moritz Thausing (1835-1884) began his education in Prague but transferred to Vienna to study German literature and philology.3 Heider and Eitelberger inspired him to go into the field of art history, and eventually he became a professor at the Austrian Institute for Historical Research. In 1875 Thausing published a pioneering monograph on Durer that met with great success in France and England. The term "hero," in Thomas Carlyle's sense, was here applied to the work of an artist. Immediately after, Thausing was named director of the Albertina, the great graphic art collection of Vienna, where he had worked since 1864. An important model for modem museums, the Albertina offered Thausing,

Moritz Thausing


XV The Vienna School

in the words of Anton Springer's obituary, "all the joys of art collecting and none of its woes." Thausing's casual encounter there one day with the Italian senator Giovanni Morelli was to prove an event, as Schlosser later remarked, "of major importance to the progress of the Vienna School." Morelli found the Vienna School naturally receptive to his revolutionary methods, which Thausing's articles in the Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst expounded and endorsed. Schlosser, as late as 1934, wrote rhapsodically of his first meeting with Morelli, which had been ar¬ ranged by Wickhoff, as one of the best moments of his life. Thausing, a deeply neurotic man, ended his days in a sanatorium in Rome. Morelli visited him there in 1884, the year he died, perhaps by suicide.

THE RENAISSANCE OF THE SCHOOL Franz Wickhoff (1853-1909) is generally regarded as the real founder of the Vienna School.4 His student Julius von Schlosser credits him with creating its "Renaissance era." Described by most of his contemporaries as a strong, versatile, and charismatic personality, Wickhoff began his art history career as a student of Eitelberger and Thausing, focusing on periods traditionally labeled decadent. Theodor von Sickel (1826-1908) was another important teacher of his. Yet for all his range, Wickhoff had a special devotion to the Renaissance and, with it, classical antiquity. Thausing set an example here, both through his own work on Raphael and Diirer and through his advocacy of Morelli's methods, which Wickhoff took even fur¬ ther than his teacher and which in fact had been devised around Renaissance painting. In addition to applying Morelli's method to his own work and helping to disseminate it through scholarly articles, Wickhoff made it an essential part of his teaching. While Morelli himself had various objections to his admirer, he still realized that Wickhoff was the scholar whose thinking was closest to his own, as he wrote to Jean Paul Richter (on May 7, 1885): "I must admit that, of all my German-speaking colleagues, Wickhoff is the most appealing. He is a splendid person to work with, with a superb eye and real erudition, and, despite some interpretative peculiarities, quite willing to take criticism." Wickhoff championed the Italian senator at a time when museum officials in Berlin, such as Bode and Max J. Friedlander, were sharply attacking him. Wickhoff was an equally avid supporter of contemporary art, quite ahead of official opinion at the time in his ad¬ miration for early functionalist architecture (the so-called engineer's architecture), to say nothing of Impressionist painting and the work of Gustav Klimt. His remarkable sense of the aesthetic value of new technology is apparent, for instance in his statement that".. .many of the despised products of modern industry — train stations, large bridges, huge iron constructions — are far more impressive than most actual works of architecture. The new style that architecture is forever in search of has in fact already been created, and we would do better to have engineers build our buildings these days than architects." Contemporary art helped Wickhoff reassess art of the past, to appreciate elements in Roman art, which, in contrast to Greek art, had been seen as unworthy of art history. Wickhoff's first important book, Wiener Genesis, published in 1895, dealt with a highly specialized topic, which its author considered to be only a first chapter in an on-going survey of Roman art. Wickhoff managed to note analogies between what he had greatly admired in Renaissance art and what was usually dismissed as decadent in Roman antiquity, and


XV The Vienna School

Franz Wickoff

he understood that these labels were basically symptomatic of the nineteenth century's obses¬ sion with "progress": "Our old schoolmasters would all too easily have us believe that literature and art evolve in straight lines, from peaks to valleys. Their overviews' flatter them into thinking they have reached the top of some pyramid that places them an arm's length from Sophocles and Phidias."5 Wickhoff was also able to see the limitations of an art history confined to the West. In 1898, in a Festschrift for M. Biidinger, a scholar he much admired, Wickhoff submitted an essay titled "Ueber die historische Einheitlichkeit der gesamten Kunstentwicklung." In 1900 he sketched a program for future art history that would stretch far beyond existing cultural frontiers, and in an essay on arts and crafts printed in Die Jugend6 he wrote: The work of a few major scholars has recently shown us that East Asian art was no less influenced at the start by Greek examples than other Western art was, and that from the fourth and fifth centuries B.C. until well into the Roman Empire, perhaps, Greek motifs filtered over India into the Far East only to be eventually subsumed by increasingly independent art production in China and later in Japan. "Advanced" artists in late nineteenth-century London and Paris were amazed to find their efforts anticipated many centuries ago by the Japanese, a people whose aesthetic sense could be rivaled only by the Greeks, always able to derive their decorative forms directly from nature. Wickhoff thus shared the cultural insights of Art Nouveau or "Jugendstil" that art history would have to extend itself to all cultures. Wickhoff's recognition of this fact made him a true pioneer, and his polemics on this theme, launched in a journal he edited from 1903 on, Kunstgeschichtliche Anzeigen, "set a standard for scholarly criticism through their clarity and trenchancy, an unprecedented standard that remains exemplary.''7 Wickhoff, a bachelor, led an ideal scholar's life; he possessed a universal education and built up a remarkable library. In later years he also took up painting — successfully, in fact, according to Schlosser. Wickhoff wrote literature, and one work, a completion of Goethe's "Pandora," was well received in Vienna.


XV The Vienna School

THE CONCEPT OF ARTISTIC INTENTION (KUNSTWOLLEN) Although the Vienna School was already underway for some decades, Alois Riegl (1858-1905) is also regarded as one of its founders, appropriately so if the School is to be portrayed in all its diversity and include new developments that gave it its international prestige.8 Like many of his colleagues, Riegl first studied law, then moved into philosophy and history, and finally art history. In 1883 he began to work for the Institut fur Oesterreichische Geschichtsforschung in Vienna. Three years later he began curatorial training in the Austrian Museum for Art and Industry; there, from 1887 to 1897 he occupied Wickhoff's former post as the director of its department of textile art. Whereas Wickhoff was basically a humanist with a Burckhardtian range of erudition, Riegl was an intellectual, an abstract thinker who set the tone for a great deal of twentieth-century scholarship. He developed and legitimized the intellectual premises first adumbrated in Carl Schnaase's Geschichte der bildenden Kunste. Thus, Riegl's work belongs to the tum-of-the-century ferment typified by Henri Bergson in France, Benedetto Croce in Italy, and Christian von Ehrenfels in Austria. In his essay "Randglossen zu einer Stelle Montaignes" Schlosser deftly characterized Riegl in relation to Semper: "Riegl's views diametrically oppose the naturalistic theorems of Semper by con¬ sistently reducing everything to the given subjective facts. His thought is, so to speak, vitalistic, issuing from an inherent formal impulse in man, from 'something human that finds pleasure in formal beauty, geometric and linear combinations, and does so quite independently of any material mediations.'" Whereas Semper held to a functionalist view of the work of art, Riegl saw it as the product of "a specific and purposeful artistic intention (Kunstwollen) fundamentally at odds with usefulness, raw material, and technique." He went on: "The role these three factors play is not, as materialist theory would have it, positive and creative but merely negative and constraining: they are nothing but the 'friction agents' (Reibungskoeffizienten) within any final product." Riegl adhered to Dvorak's seeming paradox that "the best art historian is the one who has no personal taste." This appeared to be a reductio ad absurdum of the earlier standards of art history, a challenge to the cult of subjective judgment that had reigned at least since the achievements of Burckhardt. But Riegl should not be seen only on this superficial level. Quite the contrary: it was not that he wanted to eliminate value categories as such, but that the criteria he sought were transindividual ones, denoting laws of evolution that would do away with historical cliches like "Dark Ages" for Late Antiquity or "Decadence" for the Baroque. As August Schmarsow summed up: "Riegl's greatest contribution was that of having rescued the arts of late antiquity from the scorn and oblivion of an ahistoric ideal of beauty." Riegl devised new rules and concepts for the objective comparison of the style of various ages. His book Stilfragen, published in 1893, growing out of a study of Oriental carpets, introduced the notion of Kunstwollen, or artistic intention, a transindividual basis for understanding the particular spiritual aspirations of an age.9 This influential term, not to be confused with a concern for subjective will, was meant to show how dominant formal impulses in specific periods and


XV The Vienna School

places were the force behind artistic production, thereby eliminating the distinction between fine and applied arts. As Hans Tietze noted, Riegl "made psychic dynamics the core of all art production and art criticism"; his refusal to separate "higher" and "lower" art forms in distant historical settings read like a scholarly version of current Jugendstil polemics. Riegl, convinced his method could delve beneath surface appearances, sought new ex¬ planations for the relation of part to whole. As Hans Sedlmayr pointed out, it would be wrong to conclude that Riegl's work ignored or abolished questions of quality — but it did try to keep the notions of quality in one age from interfering with those in another, and to deny any qualitative distinctions between various styles, as most theories of "decadence" did. Sedlmayr notes something more basic to Riegl's importance: "Beyond the brilliant em¬ pirical and comparative study and the innovative theories of styles and their history that come out of it, [Riegl's work] created an entirely new theoretical field, namely typology, the nucleus at least for a historical 'cinematic' of art." Besides positing an original aesthetic, the method created a sociology of art. For Sedlmayr, writing in 1928, Riegl's work offered the broadest possible system for uniting the existing branches of art history to date. In 1897 Riegl was made a full professor at the university in Vienna, after two years on the faculty there. To his regret, he had to leave his museum post, and the move no doubt fostered his penchant for psychologizing and for abstract thought. In 1897-98 Riegl wrote his Historische Grammatik der bildenden Kiinste, which was not published until 1966. In this book, Riegl searched for a basic clarification of his art-historical system. The result was a theory of art history, which, based on Riegl's background in history, included natural philosophy, aesthetics, and cultural morphology. The first sentence of the book, "The human hand forms works from dead material exactly analogous to the same formal principles as in nature," is characteristic of the style and personality of Alois Riegl. The publication of the first volume of Spatromische Kunstindustrie in 1901 guided him further to the phenomenon of Baroque art, which, as another supposedly decadent phase, Riegl reevaluated through his basic concepts of the haptic and the optic. The haptic, that is, tactile, properties of objects were studied in contrast to the optic, or visible, properties such as color and light — a binary opposition that would greatly influence the work of Schmarsow and Wolfflin, though perhaps fail to do justice to other vital aspects of works of art, as Ernst Heidrich soon pointed out. Riegl's career in Vienna was meteoric. After ten years of teaching, he died suddenly in 1905, at the age of forty-seven. As late as 1902 in "Eine neue Kunstgeschichte," a review of Cornelius Gurlitt's Geschichte der Kunst, Riegl attempted to gain an overview of the development of art history from a new angle. He represented art history metaphorically: like the dome of Saint Peter's in Rome, art history as a scientific discipline is firmly supported by four piers, of which the first was the new view of antiquity promulgated by Winckelmann, who had gone far beond his predecessors. According to Riegl, "What made Winckelmann the first art historian were his efforts to establish and to emphasize what was common to all available antique works of art. He was not interested in the existence of individual works of art in themselves but in the existence of the common bond that connects individual works with each other and unites them to something higher, even if only in abstract terms." This was a view that Burckhardt had expressed earlier when he discussed the cathedral of Trieste in the Cicerone. He spoke about the man "to whom above all others art history owes the key to comparative methodology, indeed, owes its very existence." According to Riegl the first pillar of art history was the stylistic analysis of classical art as created by Winckelmann. "The second principal pillar was thought to be the Italian Renaissance, yet through the ef¬ forts of the Romantics it was superseded in part by the third pillar, the Middle Ages." Riegl


XV The Vienna School

saw the fourth pillar in the so-called painterly styles, and then went on to a review of Gurlitt's work. Today, though, one could easily emend this and term Riegl's own work the fourth pillar supporting present-day art history, a structure that has expanded by many more wings, many of them built with the tools he created in his attempt to understand art history in its entirety. Or, as he stated: "What does it mean for there to be unity in change, what creates the seeming change that is part of unity? That is the question modem art history must address — the crowning dome." This was Riegl's basic plan, left half-built by his untimely death. His posthumous publica¬ tions were to read like prophecies for the next generations of art historians and remain such, in Austria as well as in America, Russia, England, Germany, and Italy.

NEW AREAS OF STUDY Franz Wickhoff survived his younger colleague by four years. His death in 1909 left the school temporarily without leadership. For some time it looked as though his successor might be a candidate from Graz, Joseph Strzygowski (1862-1941), but instead they chose a Czech art historian. Max Dvorak (1874-1921). The controversy surrounding the appointment helped to bring out differences within the school. A compromise was reached: a second chair would be created, and both Strzygowski and Dvorak instated, though only Dvofak would be the school's official head. The two scholars brought with them diametrically opposed methods, styles, and vocabularies, had practically nothing to do with one another, and stirred up a lot of petty intrigue and debate among their disciples. The orthodox historians of the school supported Dvorak and repudiated the work of Strzygowski: Schlosser categorically refused to count him as part of the school; Frey, however, though a young student of Dvorak's throughout this odd interregnum, dealt with Strzygowski more leniently in his later account of the school. Frey's memoirs make it clear, nonetheless, that students were expected to make an either/or commitment. It was impossible to take courses with both men. Though Frey faults Strzygowski for frequent inaccuracy in details, he acknowledges that he made a decisive contribution to the field with his studies in Oriental, and later Northern European, art. Strzygowski did indeed create a comparative art history, transgressing every limit his predecessors had carefully set for the discipline.10 Idiosyncratic as an art historian, he could be taxing to deal with in personal life, too; even his followers and close colleagues have attested to his impulsiveness. Strzygowski was bom in 1862 in Czechoslovakia, in Kunzendorf. After secondary school he worked for a time in his father's textile mill until he decided in 1882 to study in Vienna. He attended the lectures of Thausing and Eitelberger, and later transferred to Berlin for study with Grimm and to Munich to work with Riehl, Carriere, and Brunn. Immediately on finishing his doctorate Strzygowski headed to Southern and Southeastern Europe, including Greece, Turkey, Armenia, and Russia. This academically virgin territory offered a field day for his legendary energy. The art of the Orient, of Russia, Persia, and Armenia was a total revelation to him, and he was determined to relate it to the more wellknown art of the West. Perhaps the errors in source materials for which he was always attacked were due to the furious pace of his work method, or, quite understandably, to the sheer novelty of the material he was exploring.


XV The Vienna School

But Strzygowski also had enemies of a more basic nature: Bernard Berenson, rooted as he was in Italian and Mediterranean culture, railed as late as 1941 against this man he called "the Attila of art history." He maintained that Strzygowski had "for the last thirty years of his life bitterly and hatefully campaigned against everything that Mediterranean culture stood for... like the invading Hun who was called 'the scourge of God' by the Chris¬ tians of his day." Berenson viewed his work as the product of a maniacally proto-Nazi racism, and marveled only that Strzygowski's writing, which met with remarkable success in France, America, and England, found practically no audience in Germany. In objective terms today, it is clear that Strzygowski's work was a geographic exten¬ sion of the cultural research of Burckhardt and Justi, and of the antiparochialism of Wickhoff. As Strzygowski stated the goals of his institution in 1913: The Art Historical Institute of the University of Vienna, as newly conceived, represents a hitherto nonexistent and urgently needed kind of research in¬ stitute. To be sure, it keeps its philological and historical foundation, but regards it only as a necessary path to its real concern, a chronological ordering of geographically divided material. These ancillary tools serve the Euro¬ pean scholar for his own cultural domain, but the moment he moves beyond it, beyond the relatively small bounds of the Latin world and into classical and Oriental sites, even archaeological knowledge matters less and less. The further east the art historian goes, the less his philological and historical training helps; all reference to the milestones of Western art is unavailing.... One moment of triumph for Strzygowski came when he was asked to organize and lead the seventh International Art History Congress in Darmstadt in 1907. He suggested a basic international collaboration in which teams of researchers would address the prob¬ lems acknowledged as being most important. Although this enormous undertaking met with little success, many areas of discussion and new modes of collaboration were opened up. As one example of group effort, Strzygowski published in 1910 his joint work with Max von Berchem and Gertrud L. Bell, Amida, subtitled Beitrage zur Kunst des Mittelalters von Nordmesopotamien, Hellas und dem Abendlande.


XV The Vienna School

In 1907 Strzygowski published a survey of contemporary art. Die bildende Kunst der Gegenwart, Ein Biichlein fur Jedermann. After discussing recent architecture the book took up sculpture, painting, and the applied arts, considered in relation both to Western tradi¬ tion and to analagous styles in the art of Persia, Japan, and Egypt. Not content merely to catalogue and describe the new art around him, he posed the question of art education in an appendix entitled "Kunststreit, Reichstag und Liebermann," in which he criticized the king of Prussia and Max Liebermann, Germany's major Impressionist painter, and closed with the statement that "there has never been as great a schism between art and the monarchy as there is today in Germany." Despite formidable personal foibles and difficulties in his private life, Strzygowski con¬ tinued to gain recognition. Divorced in 1908, he brought his six children, the youngest of whom was only one year old, to Vienna to rear by himself. His inaugural lecture "Die Kunstgeschichte an der Wiener Universitat" was a veritable minefield of polemics. The First World War naturally took its toll on Strzygowski's productivity, but after 1918 he found his international reputation gaining steadily as he turned from his Oriental studies to pioneering work on Nordic art, which was tainted, however with nationalistic prejudices and an implicit anti-Semitism. In 1922 Strzygowski was invited to lecture throughout the United States. It is typical of his unflagging energy that he managed during this trip to dictate an entire book to his secretary, Dr. Weibel. It appeared in Vienna in the following year as Die Krisis der Geisteszoissenschaften, a major document in its field. Subtitled Ein grundsatzlicher Rahmenversuch, and dedicated to the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore and his colleagues at Harvard and Princeton, the work ends with an appeal for the creation of an international center for com¬ parative study in the visual arts, essentially carrying on the principles of the Vienna Institute. The proposal followed the guidelines Strzygowski had set down in 1913, and which are seldom adhered to today: 1. Starting with the art of Europe, the institute should study the art of Asia and, in principle, that of the whole world. 2. It should study the visual arts within the context of cultural history. 3. It should find a systematic balance between historical materials, peripheral fields, and general cultural research. Strzygowski's desiderata were framed in opposition to usual administrative and academic divisions and strikingly anticipated later American efforts to restructure art history study and to leave the coordination of basic research in the hands of scholars, not bureaucrats. By the end of his life, when he had begun to give up his own investigations, Strzygowski was a legendary figure; despite and because of the controversy he generated in the Art Historical Institute in Vienna, he initiated trends in the discipline that were to have interna¬ tional repercussions.

ART HISTORY AS GE1STESGESCHICHTE Strzygowski's adversary, his compatriot Max Dvorak, won Wickhoff's chair thanks to the support of Julius von Schlosser and held his post in Vienna until 1921.11 Dvorak succeeded in earning an international reputation of his own. His private life was no happier than that of his rival, darkened particularly by the deaths of his wife and his sister.


XV The Vienna School

Wickhoff once said: "It is a pity Dvorak did not become a cultural historian and not just an art historian." He would unquestionably have changed our notions of modem civiliza¬ tion, now that it was no longer a matter of neatly and hygienically segregating fields of study but seeing them all in their unity. Dvorak considered this synoptic viewpoint one of the most urgent needs of art history and, in 1914, stated its goals abstractly yet quite precisely: "an interpenetration of all areas of research, reflection on the means for ascer¬ taining historical facts, a thoroughgoing critique of existing historical disciplines and their methods, the formation of a historical approach to the question of style, not simply as the necessary corrective for all critical inquiry but also as the prerequisite for all art-historical research that goes beyond mere critical assessment and ordering of canonical works." Dvorak believed that a sense for history, like a sense for poetry, was something that could not be taught. Nevertheless, he wanted to instill in those who studied it a clear understanding of its parameters and its responsibilities, above all the goal of "a maximum degree of objectivity towards verifiable facts." Dvorak's early work, published in 1904, Das Ratsel der Bruder van Eyck, was in the tradition of Wickhoff and made consummate use of Morelli's method. Dvorak belonged to the mainstream of his era and was usually regarded as a synthesis of Wickhoff and Riegl, a scholar of critical periods in art history, of transitional eras whose turbulence mir¬ rored that of his own day. Artists between the Middle Ages and Renaissance, as well as El Greco, Tintoretto, Bruegel, and Goya, were models for early twentieth-century Vienna. As Hans Tietze wrote of his chief work, Idealismus und Naturalismus in der gotischen

16 7

XV The Vienna School

Malerei und Plastik: "Dvorak has not merely presented brilliantly intuited information in a neglected and vitally important area; our late and much-missed colleague has given us a classic in our field, one of the milestones in art historiography." If Strzygowski's work paralleled the abstract painting that came into being around 1910, then Dvorak, with his concern for cruxes and historical crises, could be seen as a critical spokesman for Expressionist art, one of its spiritual fathers or star witnesses, perhaps, although he had no direct involvement with the movement or with individual artists. His implicit expressionism is most apparent in a posthumous book his students brought out entitled Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte,12 In an essay entitled "Max Dvoraks Stellung in der Kunstgeschichte,"13 Dagobert Frey memorably summed up his teacher's method: If present-day sensibility has managed to resuscitate the past, it must be pointed out that an understanding of the past has in turn shaped the spiritual develop¬ ment of the present. This is not to suggest that the value of history consists in its furnishing models for us — in its being "monumental" or "heroic," as Nietzsche put it — but rather in a far more complex psychic process. The affinity between certain spiritual types creates an inner empathy, harmonizes, so to speak, various related tones in the unconscious, which by means of vibrations and interference bring out even the subtlest frequency curves— It is this sense of a prophetic strain in historical trajectories that qualifies Dvorak as an expressionist historiographer, and it is no coincidence that his last essay, written in 1921, is devoted to an artist he had come to know well, Oskar Kokoschka. By contrasting the work of Monet and Kokoschka in formal and iconographical terms, he defined the dif¬ ferences between Impressionism and Expressionism. The total shift in imagery from the one to the other spoke for a vast change in sensibility; as Dvorak wrote: "There is a world of difference between these two artists... an upheaval in the notion of the role of art that cannot be underestimated. But more than merely art, the difference involves nothing short of an entirely altered view of the world." Dvorak focuses on the artist's relation to the individual work. "His relation to each work was, in the highest sense, naive, that is, uniquely close to real, hidden knowledge: an unconditional, rapt surrender to the work."14 Dvorak's sense of history is stamped with the experiences of his day, the lacerations of World War I and its engulfing chaos. No wonder that divisions in the Vienna School coincided with the war years, or that during the same years Dvorak's view of history, first pragmatic and genetic, came more and more to include a sense of mystery, of wild vicissitude.

JULIUS VON SCHLOSSER When Max Dvorak died in 1921 (shortly after being offered a professorship in Cologne) and his prestigious post had to be filled, his friends were naturally eager that it fall to some¬ one equally fit to rival Strzygowski. That man was Julius von Schlosser (1866-1938), whom Dvorak had urged for at least a decade to take over the post.15 As Schlosser himself put it, the appointment was actually a smooth transition in the Vienna School's politics, "a bedand-board arrangement with a promise of eventual reconciliation." Schlosser, a curator at heart and little disposed to lecture giving, was half-Italian, and emphatically so: Frey reports that Schlosser made Italian a prerequisite language for his


XV The Vienna School

university students. As with Wickhoff and Riegl, theory and practice formed an indissoluble whole in Schlosser's career. He was the director of the sculpture and applied art division at the museum in Vienna and organized most of his courses around the study of original works. A central factor in Schlosser's aesthetic orientation was his friendship with the philosopher Benedetto Croce, whose works Schlosser translated from Italian into German and whose theory finds practical corollaries in Schlosser's work: a turn from mechanistic and materialistic accounts of the work of art to a new idealistic interpretation. Schlosser's decisive contribution was in his revitalization of source studies (Quellenkunde), culminating in the book of art-historical documents called Die Kunstliteratur (or La letteratura artistica in the Italian version),16 a consolidation and reinterpretation of all prior collections of classic texts on and by artists. Besides Julius von Schlosser, a major personality within the Viennese School was Hans Tietze (1880-1954).17 A student of Franz Wickhoff, he was one of the outstanding scholars both in the area of the art of the Renaissance and of modem times. His Methode der Kunstgeschichte of 1913 was a thorough examination of the art history of its time. In an extensive review of a publication edited by Otto Pacht, the Kunstwissenschaftliche Forschungen, Meyer Schapiro introduced the notion of a "New Viennese School."18 While showing the vitality of the school, Schapiro disputed the principles of its newest represen¬ tatives, chiefly Hans Sedlmayr, Pacht himself, Michael V. Alpatov, and Emil Kaufmann. He especially disapproved of Sedlmayr's plea, in an essay entitled "Zu einer strengen Kunstwissenschaft," for a sharp separation of factual research and formal interpretation. As Schapiro rightly remarked, the "scientific" method produces only a slight difference be¬ tween the best work of the so-called first and second branches of art history.19 Hans Sedlmayr, Schlosser's successor from 1936 to 1945, was an authority on Baroque architecture. He also attempted to introduce the methods of Gestalt psychology into art history. Based on his earlier research in his book Die Entstehung der Kathedrale (1950),


XV The Vienna School

he developed theories that initiated content-oriented interpretation. After he moved to Ger¬ many and underwent a religious conversion, however, his work became a vehicle chiefly for his spiritual discontent with the twentieth century at large. In his Architecture in the Age of Reason Emil Kaufmann observed that Sedlmayr's book Verlust derMitte was mostly based on misunderstandings of the results of Kaufmann's earlier researches. The spirit of the Vienna School has spread quite far. Its continuation in Vienna itself was represented by Otto Benesch (1896-1964), Otto Pacht, and Karl Maria Swoboda (1889-1977). Ernst H. Gombrich, long-time director of the Warburg Institute in London, integrated the tradition of the Vienna School with Warburgian iconology. Ernst Kris sought to apply the findings of psychoanalysis to art history. Emil Kaufmann (1891-1953) studied visionary and revolutionary architecture, which he wrote about especially in his book Ar¬ chitecture in the Age of Reason, published posthumously. His earlier study, Von Ledoux bis Le Corbusier of 1933, was the first to interconnect eighteenth-century with twentiethcentury developments. Among the many international scholars who were clearly influenced by the school, the Russian Michael V. Alpatov, the Swiss Hans R. Hahnloser (an authority on medieval architecture), Karl von Tolnay, who later called himself Charles de Tolnay (a Michelangelo specialist), and Frohlich-Bum (Parmigianino and Mannerism) could also be mentioned. Art history was one of the many facets of Vienna's remarkable achievements during the early twentieth century. This Viennese tradition continued that which had flourished earlier in Florence, Rome, Berlin, and Basel and remains with us today, especially in the important research centers of New York, Princeton, and London.



ART AS THE EXPLORATION OF REALITY hereas the mid-nineteenth century developed a predominently materialist approach to the work of art, preoccupied with its technique, the end of the century harkened back instead to the aesthetic principles of German Idealism: to the writings of Schelling and Holderlin, to Goethe, and ultimately to Kant's aesthetics. Goethe initiated the view of form as the visualization, the making visible, of something vital, rather than as something imposed from without. Morelli's method was an important later development in applying objective criteria to works of art. The formal concerns of Burckhardt and Robert Vischer found a more programmatic formulation in the writings of Conrad Fiedler (1841-1895). Herbert Read and Roberto Salvini have hailed his work as a turning point in art criticism, decisive for art theory in the twentieth century.1 Fiedler was first an art patron, and an intimate of Hans von Marees and Adolf von Hildebrand. His close observation of artists' working methods convinced him that art had to do more with questioning reality than with mere naturalistic illusionism. Fiedler's early interests reached well beyond law, which he had been obliged to study. His acquaintance with the painter Marees, whose importance he recognized even before seeing his works, was crucial for him. Marees's personality alone was enough to win the life-long dedication of Fiedler, who wrote: "He seemed possessed of an unshakeable belief in what he was do¬ ing ... he had a strength of temperament that visibly takes hold of whatever environment it is in, so that anyone, whether he knew Marees's painting or not, would succumb to the force of this rare figure." Hans von Marees (1837-1887), in addition to painting, was given to theoretical state¬ ments, and one of his fundamental maxims, "To learn to see is everything," (like that of Alexander von Villers from 1868, "Seeing is not seeing, it is know¬ ing"), summed up his primary concern for the specific laws that govern the visibility of reality. Marees attempted to understand the relation of man in general and the artist in particular to the lawfulness of nature, and thus to contribute to a documentation of the artistic process. He was convinced that artistic activity concerned a process of knowledge. From these ideas, and through penetrating conversations with Marees and the sculptor Adolf von Hildebrand (1847-1921), Conrad Fiedler arrived at his fundamentally new concept. In the following writings Fiedler developed his position against identifying aesthetics with specifically artistic consid¬ erations: Ueber die Beurteilung von Werken der bildenden Kunst (1876), Bemerkungen uber IAlesen und Geschichte der Baukunst (1878), and Ueber den Ursprung der kiinstlerischen Tdtigkeit (1887).

Conrad Fiedler


XVI The Discovery of Form

One feels that many misunderstandings, extending even into the present day, might have been avoided if art critics had heeded Fiedler's words: "The concept of the beautiful should not be excluded from the realm of aesthetics; on the contrary, it is the fundamental concept of aesthetics. But aesthetics should be excluded from the study of works of art, for it has nothing to do with them." For Fiedler, works of art fulfilled quite a different and specific function: "The work of art should take the place of nature. Then and only then will we stop expecting to see art revealed as though it were nature and learn to see nature by means of art." It was this turn in Fiedler's thought that Herbert Read, as late as 1953, termed a "rather revolutionary theory." In 1874 Fiedler was offered, and turned down, the post of director of the print room in Berlin. He was wary of becoming an art bureaucrat and of losing direct ties to active artists, or as he stated in a letter from Italy: "The closer this quiet stay in Florence brings me to an understanding of the artistic process, the less the business of art, particularly that of a museum director, appeals to me. So much effort that remains completely external to the real concerns of art! It is in sharp contradiction to everything I desire and everything I have managed to attain here this winter." Art for Fiedler was something infinite, each work of art only a "fragmentary expression for something that cannot be expressed in its totality." It is a view reminiscent of Goethe and Diirer. The following statement is especially Goethean: "One can paint, chisel, versify, and make music without ever making art. This is something the art-history manuals ignore, busy as they are documenting their field from all angles for 'comprehensiveness' — neglecting any real history of art, that is, a history of knowledge obtained and revealed through art." Of his affinity with Goethe, both in his language and in his interest in the artistic pro¬ cess, Fiedler himself commented: "Goethe is an instructive example because, rather than squander all his time seeking some inner essence of artistic creation, he humbly seized on the lessons every work of art imparted to him in some degree, knowing full well it could never be fitted into some imagined whole by theory alone." Against the standard art historiography of his day Fiedler urged finding a new form of criticism reflecting a new attitude to the work of art: "The chief characteristic of modem art criticism is a negative one: an evasion of individual works, as though their meaning could be taken for granted. The worst result of this is that it has flattered the public into thinking it too can automatically understand works of which it actually has no sense at all. An essential task is to shake the complacency of the historical school, to reestablish a proper respect, a caution, towards individual works that alone can yield a productive understanding of art." Fiedler, then, led a resistance against the subjectivism and historicism that were theoretical versions of the realistic methods that connoisseurs such as Giovanni Morelli, Nicholas Ralph Womum, Otto Miindler, Crowe and Cavalcaselle used to distinguish original works from copies. Practically, too, Fiedler offered art criticism new criteria for defining an artist's specific qualities. For instance, he had the brilliant insight that "it is always individuals who, as it were, reinvent art, who start it from scratch, who create the world of art rather than enter it as newcomers. These are the true artists; and far from being regarded merely as greater figures in the history of art, they should be seen in a more essential way, as excep¬ tions who overhaul existing terms of comparison and create wholly new standards." Fiedler summed up the likely consequences of his approach: "Adopting my point of view, one would recognize that, for all their differences, the great figures in art history are in the end related because they have a common point of origin. It is simply that art practice


XVI The Discovery of Form

compels them and sends them off in drastically different directions that mask their basic kinship. The few artists who matter inevitably find their way despite the vagaries of this practice, while those who think they can find their way with the help of others just as inevi¬ tably end in triviality or caprice. So-called correct tradition, even when it is more pleasant than pernicious, is closer to becoming just that than it is of becoming real art_" Fiedler established objectivity as the basis for understanding just this "real art."

SCHMARSOW'S SYSTEM Like his predecessor Conrad Fiedler and his contemporary Benedetto Croce, the art historian August Schmarsow (1853-1936) was concerned with defining an essence of art that went against all prevailing notions of the Grlinderzeit.2 His works revolved around the development of art-historical terminology. In addition, he came to an understanding of the interrelation of shapes through his study of form. Though Schmarsow in his youth wanted to study with Jakob Burckhardt in Basel, his actual teachers and mentors were Rudolf Rahn, Anton Springer, and Carl Justi. He hoped not only to reach a systematic understanding of art but to be able to relate it to contem¬ porary sensibility. A series of lectures he gave in Leipzig in 1903 on art and education, called "Unser Verhaltnis zu den bildenden Kiinsten," sounded a death knell for the dominion of the natural sciences and located new artistic inspiration in a changing attitude towards the body: "Art is likeliest to come in the future from the playgrounds of our youth and from the physical culture of young and old alike. Aesthetic education will take place in our bathing establishments, not our classrooms; in our fencing rooms, not in lecture halls nor even in drawing classes, but during outdoor recesses, in playtime under the open skies." It was a full-scale assault on the so-called morality of the late nineteenth cenury. Schmarsow claimed kinship with his colleagues Riegl and Wickhoff — something they both strenuously disclaimed. Wickhoff, for instance, felt that Schmarsow's chief work, Grundbegriffe der Kunstwissenschaft, a critique of the Vienna School, grossly misrepresented his aims. Wickhoff wrote of his younger colleague: "What a blight on the profession and on the art-history chair at Leipzig — a university with such a strong sense of history — that a man with no grasp of history and the basic questions it poses should be allowed to continue his career." But here, what we really find is an evident clash between two totally incompatible methods and outlooks, one based on broad historical developments, the other formal and analytic. Schmarsow defined his position in a piece published in 1891, Die Kunstgeschichte an unseren Hochschulen. Here he advocated art-historical training in all schools at university level and in all other professional and adult education curricula as well as drawing and formal appreciation training. As Siegfried Giedion would also much later conclude, Schmarsow pointed out the value that a sharpened visual sense could have for doctors, scientists, and other professionals. Schmarsow, who taught in Gottingen and then in Leipzig, was a popular, or in any case prominent, lecturer. He held seminars in Florence in the fall of 1889 on Masaccio and Italian sculpture, partly

August Schmarsow


XVI The Discovery of Form

to demonstrate the necessity of an institute of art history in Florence. Among his pupils were Aby Warburg and Ernst J. Friedlander. Werner Weisbach (1873-1953), who also studied with Schmarsow, described his teacher: He was always very correct and reserved, with all the traits one would expect of him as a Mecklenburg Hof rat. Nothing could ruffle him. His first lectures, on art theory, were ill-conceived, incongruous affairs. He was deeply positivistic, rationalistic, working out mathematical formulas for the various arts. His remarks on style and history were far more palatable, yet one felt immediately that his feeling for art was shallow. I, in any case, was already involved with the kind of training I had received in Munich, with the work of Robert Vischer, Burckhardt, Justi, and Wolfflin; Schmarsow's held little interest, and he was just as fussy and pedantic as certain artists were making him out to be. Yet we should note that Weisbach's profile was written, in a sense, under duress, out of the frustration of being an involuntary student of Schmarsow's. Oscar Wulff gives a much more enthusiastic account of Schmarsow's teaching: "I can still remember the stir that Schmarsow's first class created among an audience mostly un¬ trained in philosophy and ignorant of the recent psychological trends in aesthetics. People were completely dumbfounded. Likewise, his inaugural lecture, 'Das Wesen der architektonischen Schopfung' was baffling in its novelty, and set off an almost universal opposition to his barely disguised disapproval of all theoretical instruction." Schmarsow's magnum opus, Grundbegriffe der Kunstwissenschaft, was published in Berlin and Leipzig in 1905. It is an attempt to work out a conceptual system for art based on a specific historical framework, namely, Riegl's: the transition from antiquity to the middle ages. From the introduction on, Schmarsow emphasized the relativity of the principles of art history, their constant need of readjustment to changing artistic climates: "The principles of art history always depend on the reigning notions of what art is and what constitutes creativity. The former cannot help but adapt to changes in the latter." Schmarsow offered new definitions of historical concepts because he felt that the art history of his day, basically a materialist discipline, was undergoing a transition that reflected changes in art itself. For this reason he kept abreast of modem art and, even more, the way it was being taught. His other, extremely diverse interests —in theater, music, literature — were up-tothe-minute; for example, he was interested in Jugendstil. His notion of contemporary art was organic, concerned both with the "organism" of the artistic milieu and of the individual work; as such, he opposed the repetition of established styles and forms: "How inconceivably backward and confused are the values of 'folkishness' and 'Germanness' we are brought up on! Even now, after 1870, indeed more than ever, even through the wars of independence. How myopic even the evangelists of art and education are when they urge us to emulate dead formal terms — to think, for example, as though we still lived in the age of Winckelmann." Yet despite this Schmarsow was able to recognize the worth of doctrines like those of Gottfried Semper, and he felt it imperative to "save" Semper from his would-be disciples: "The whole little troop that rallies around his name ought to be punished for using that name in vain. The catechism they chant bears very little resemblance to the teachings of the master." Not that Schmarsow was totally content with Semper's system. Inspired by the recent work of Leo Frobenius, who submitted African bamboo huts to architectural analysis, Schmarsow was eager to extend the range of his discipline beyond the usual Italian


XVI The Discovery of Form

Renaissance orbit. His own fields of expertise — beyond painting and sculpture, the trecento, early Christian architecture. Baroque and Rococo, and ancient Greece and Egypt — began to include art of so-called primitive peoples. For bending the traditional canon, for integrating art history with aesthetics, and theory with pedagogy, he earned the title of "the Nestor of art scholars" from Oscar Wulff in 1933. The similarity in title of the great work by Wolfflin — Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe

that would appear ten years after Schmarsow's book is but one obvious clue to

the considerable influence Schmarsow would have on twentieth-century German art historiography. In an article on "Kunstwissenschaft" (in the encyclopedia Atlantis Buck der Kunst) Ernst Gombrich took Schmarsow to task for maintaining a "distance from his material," a fault which he felt Wolfflin managed to rectify. This certainly neglects the remarkable ground Schmarsow opened up. Paul Frankl was more generous in comparing the two figures, in 1914 and again in 1938, in his ambitious System der Kunstwissenschaft.

INTUITION The Italian philosopher Benedetto Croce (1866-1952) had a decisive impact on art history.3 He went beyond rationalist historiography to include the irrational mode of intuition as the basis of artistic experience. Croce's philosophy was anything but isolated from the reality of his day. A near con¬ temporary of the artists of Jugendstil, Croce was extremely active in Italian political life; he was an early and vocal opponent of Fascism and Mussolini, during whose regime he nevertheless published such important books as La poesia (1935) and La storia come pensiero e come azione (1938). His fame was legendary; the Italian government even put his portrait on a forty-lira postage stamp. Croce's philosophy, most decisively stated in his Estetica, which appeared in 1900, is ahistoric and as such radically questions the usefulness of art history and so-called Kunstwissenschaft. His doctrine of intuition, an indivisible faculty, was a refutation of nineteenth-century mechanistic and materialistic philosophies. The unitary nature of intui¬ tion made any formal distinctions in the arts irrelevant — Croce spoke of "Lessing's great error" — and made the chief value of works the process of their genesis, which eluded ra¬ tional analysis. Art for him was a living whole, which precluded any sort of pigeonholing into genres and subgenres. In 1911, as a foil to these "scholastic dissections of the indivisible," Croce held up the example of Conrad Fiedler and his theory of pure visibility, which had fused the acts of viewing and image making. Croce stated emphatically: "This notion is the one absolute essential for anyone who would wish to understand or recount the history of art — as so many haplessly try to do by abandoning it for the history of ideas, or of the emotions, of material needs, biography or the psychology of the artist."4 Croce, then, was fanatical about form: "The aesthetic act is...form and nothing but form." He opposed the reigning dichotomy of form and content, the notion of a work of art as a relation of content to form, with each recognizably separate. For him the work of art necessarily became more insulated and, however interesting its extraformal aspects might be, never derived its artistic character from content.

Benedetto Croce



The Discovery of Form

As there could be no historical contexts, art history became a contradiction in terms: "Art is intuition, intuition is individuality, and individuality is unrepeatable." Not that Croce ceased to deal with art history, or to suggest reforms that he thought the discipline needed, as he did for instance in a paper published in 1917 on the reform of art and literary history. Here he asserted that works and artists could be characterized but never eras, much less longer historical trajectories. One of his most famous statements was that people ought to explain Giotto not out of the context of the trecento, but the trecento out of the works of Giotto. It was less art history as such that he opposed than the hasty contextualizing of every work before it could even be determined that, and how, it was a work of art. The boundaries of Croce's aesthetic were extremely limited, basically confined to classicism. The chief shortcoming of Croce's views on art lie in this refusal to honor the art of the Middle Ages, Mannerism, and the Baroque. Croce's quarrel with the work of Wolfflin is well-known: Croce accused Wolfflin of concocting abstractions and simply spinning "fables about line and color" in an "inner history that is only pseudohistory." There, however, he was making a valid point: the lines and color Wolfflin always invoked never served individual examples. This new method, close as it was to the spirit of abstract art of the same period, was necessarily contrary to Croce's thought. Another of Croce's limitations is his scant interest in architecture (which was the point of departure for both Burckhardt and Wolfflin). In a comparative study of Croce and Wolfflin by the Swiss art historian Joseph Gantner, it is Wolfflin who emerges as the more modern, the true contemporary of the great modem painters, for creating a new vision of the past through his abstract conceptual system.

WOLFFLIN'S KUNSTGESCHICHTLICHE GRUNDBEGRIFFE Heinrich Wolfflin (1864-1945) took up the tradition of Marees, Fiedler, and Hildebrand, further systematizing their formal concerns. It is rather surprising that the two famous op¬ ponents, Croce and Wolfflin, both so strongly emphasized the importance of Conrad Fiedler.5 Wolfflin enlisted abstract schemes to identify and explain the formal vocabulary of art. While at first he kept to the period preferred by his teacher Burckhardt, that of the Italian Renaissance, he would eventually include it in a comparative study of the Baroque. Wolfflin was born in Switzerland, in Winterthur, in the canton of Zurich. He wrote a thesis entitled "Prolegomena zu einer Psychologie der Architektur," followed in 1888 by Renaissance und Barock, which adapted Burckhardt's method to his own individual approach. His psychological accounts of stylistic change were largely influenced by the empathetic psychology (Einfiihlungspsychologie) of Theodor Lipps. But whatever its sources, Wolfflin's early work inaugurated his dedication to the question of style: for it was understanding changes in style that Wolfflin later declared to be the chief aim of art history. It was on the strength of Renaissance und Barock that in 1893 Wolfflin was appointed to Burckhardt's chair in Basel, thus heightening what was to be a lifelong concern for the master's work by the student who considered himself his rightful successor. Between the time of the appointment and Burckhardt's death in 1897, Wolfflin often spoke with him about fundamental issues and was later called on to lecture and write about him. Die klassische Kunst, published in 1897, is dedicated to Burckhardt. Wolfflin correctly believed that Burckhardt's legacy consisted in laying the ground¬ work for a more systematic art history. In an address to the Berlin Academy in 1930, "Jakob



The Discovery of Form

Burckhardt und die systematische Kunstgeschichte," Wolfflin tried to summarize Burckhardt's ideas in three points: the major responsibilities of art, art as an immediate experience, and the history of the development of art based on form. In 1901 Wolfflin was asked to take over Herman Grimm's post in Berlin and began an extremely successful teaching vocation which influenced generations of art historians. It was during his years there that he published two famous books: Die Kunst Albrecht Diirers in 1905 and Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe in 1915, the latter setting a new standard for systematic thinking, a summa in the field and in Wolffliris career. As controversy flared around the work, Wolfflin was often required to defend it and its notion of formal development. In an essay of 1920, "Zur Rechtfertigung meiner kunstgeschichtlichen Grundbegriffe," he specifically tried to clarify what had aroused the most critical protest: The real bone of contention has been my notion of an art-history-without-names. I do not remember how the term came to me; I think it fair to say it was something in the air — which in any case should suggest a desire to represent something basic to individuals. At which point the usual objection arises: "If the personality is what matters in the history of art, does the extinction of the subject not impoverish art, reduce it to bloodless abstractions, and so on." Now there could not be a grosser misunderstanding than this — as though the worth of the individual were ever in question! Rather than present a history of art that claims to invalidate all those before it, I am merely trying to find a new framework for it, guidelines for greater certainty of our criteria. Whether this effort is a success or failure is quite beside the point; I insist that art history set itself a goal beyond that of ascer¬ taining external facts.6



The Discovery of Form

The "principles" were therefore meant as tools, as heuristic devices, for a more exact knowledge of the vital fabric of artistic experience. As Wolfflin wryly put it: "I am grateful for having it pointed out to me that in German art history, to take one example, nothing develops along a straight line, but backwards or forwards or every which way—yet it is something I was already aware of, and which in any case is quite secondary." Wolfflin's classic text does, as he claims, establish new criteria for the "facts" of art history. In keeping with the systems of Hildebrand and Riegl (and contrary to the practice of Schmarsow) Wolfflin relies on binary oppositions: Renaissance and Baroque to begin with, and, in formal matters, the linear and the painterly, flatness and depth, closed and open form, multiplicity and unity, clarity and complexity. All these formal dichotomies were used to distinguish Baroque and Renaissance, what the book's subtitle referred to as "The Problem of the Development of Style in Later Art." Whatever Wolfflin's abstract plan may suggest, his book is always oriented toward the individual work of art and the creative process of the artist. It was not his main concern to authenticate and reattribute specific works of art. As Ludwig Baldass emphasized: "What Wolfflin proved to art historians is that their ultimate consideration must be the work of art itself and they must always make sure their real allegiance is explaining artistic effects, not some meaning that better belongs to another humanistic field." To achieve just this purity of method Wolfflin sacrificed displaying his vast erudition to focus on the relatively narrow domain of Renaissance art and omitted all digression in cultural history and characterizations of whole eras. All that mattered were precise under¬ standing of historical development and clear designation of the eras themselves. One of the most severe criticisms of Wolfflin's concept came from a fellow country¬ man, the director of the Basel Kunstmuseum, Georg Schmidt (1896-1965). Amidst otherwise salutary remarks after Wolfflin's death, in an article of 1946 entitled "Heinrich Wolfflin: His Meaning for Europe," Schmidt wrote: We cannot help realizing how a failure to think historically made it possible for Wolfflin to stick to the Renaissance as thesis and the Baroque as antithesis... .we are aware that although, for example, the contrast between Raphael and Rubens can be expressed as a contrast between a "linear" and a "painterly"approach, Raphael on the one hand is painterly in relation to Masaccio and Rubens on the other is linear in relation to Tiepolo. Going further back, Giotto is linear in relation to Masaccio, and going forward the Impressionists are painterly in relation to Tiepolo. Going back beyond Giotto to the Romanesque, however, and coming forward from Impression to modem art, Wolfflin's "fundamentals" lose even their purely relative meaning. Wolfflin's categories are as useless to describe all preclassical art before it became naturalistic as they are to describe all postclassical art after it ceased to be naturalistic. Yet largely on account of Cezanne, these are the very periods that concern the art historian of the post-Wolfflin era. Wolfflin considered himself the formalist among his contemporaries. In the introduction to his book Gedanken zur Kunstgeschichte he wrote: "I accept this label with pride, since it means I am fulfilling my most important function as an art historian, namely, analyzing perceptible forms." Formal analysis enabled Wolfflin to penetrate major masterpieces, although, as Adolph Goldschmidt noted in an essay written in honor of Wolfflin's sixtieth birthday, it provided only an empty phraseology for lesser interpreters.



The Discovery of Form

Wilhelm Waetzoldt, one of Wolfflin's students, had a different assessment: "Wolfflin's lecture rooms had a feeling of the artist's workshop about them/' What he meant, of course, was the air of visual concentration. "The work of art history begins with seeing and ends in describing. Seeing is the necessary step towards describing, just as describing is the test of seeing. Both of these operations, at once extremely simple and extremely complex, are preliminary steps in any serious 'explanation' of a work of art." Other students have left memorable accounts of Wolfflin as a pedagogue. Theodor Hetzer has reminisced: No one who heard Wolfflin lecture, even if only a few times, can easily forget his remarkable personality: his tall, imposing presence, his terse, deliberate speech when describing art. Every lecture in his thematic cycles, which would last the semester, was complete in itself, tailored to the lecture hour, yet coherent with the others. I have never encountered such a mastery of presentation in any other professor — or any for whom form is such a profound, and well-satisfied, need. He held his audiences spellbound with his descriptions of art works, would jux¬ tapose good and bad examples to back up his claims, and often, not to show off but to better explain his work methods, would share with us stories of how he wrote and rewrote his books. It was only one way of warning us against filling the library shelves with more "dead letters." In private life Wolfflin was extremely reserved. Max Dessoir, in his memoirs, described him as "one long wall without an entrance." This discrete quality is something Wolfflin's student Kurt Gerstenberg noted even in the master's handwriting, in his tendency to break into printing, "staggering single letters or pairs of letters, always breaking the flow." Yet Gerstenberg also captures something of the whimsicality of this Alemannian-in-Berlin by recalling his appearance as an Arab sheik, burnous and all, at a costume ball in 1913. At a carnival party once, Wolfflin relaxed for a moment and let the poet Ricarda Huch use the more intimate du with him. When she greeted him the next morning with "Lieber Heinrich, zvie geht es dir?" Wolfflin glanced at her for a moment and dryly asked, "Should we not go back to the more familiar Sie?" Though Wolfflin's Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe and his account of the develop¬ ment of style was wholly rejected by aestheticians like Croce and was contested in several ways by colleagues like Erwin Panofsky, Oscar Wulff, and Georg Dehio, he nonetheless influenced scholars well beyond the bounds of art history, above all, classical archaeologists, literary historians (Fritz Strich), and musicologists. In view of the continuity of method, Wolfflin's impact can clearly be recognized in Paul Frankl, Nikolaus Pevsner, Siegfried Giedion, Wilhelm Worringer, Johnny Roosval, Henry Russell Hitchcock, Joseph Gantner, Gotthard Jedlicka, Kurt Gerstenberg, and many others. The new rigor Wolfflin's method brought to art history mostly consisted of its transin¬ dividual vision, in direct opposition to the method of his predecessor in Berlin, Herman Grimm. At its worst, Wolfflin's system could be charged with one-sidedness. In 1912, Wolfflin accepted the prestigious position as professor at the university in Munich where, as in Berlin, he remained for twelve years. Later he returned to Switzerland, teaching in Zurich until 1934 — at an increasing distance from his students and colleagues. At his last lecture, on his seventieth birthday (June 21,1934), Wolfflin emphatically argued against his greatness as an art historian — out of weariness, perhaps, or resignation, or possibly from an always-stifled desire to be considered an artist instead.


XVI The Discovery of Form

That same year he retired to his family estate, Waldhof. He often toyed with the idea of a voyage to India as a means of "gaining a new perspective on European art." When Kurt Gerstenberg asked him whether he had considered visiting the major American art collections, Wolfflin replied: "What is the point? It is nothing but an accelerated version of Europe. India and Japan, on the other hand, are marvels: they at least can give one new concepts, new ideas!" The Wolfflinian method was soon challenged by Adolph Goldschmidt, his successor in Berlin; by Aby Warburg in Hamburg; and by Wilhelm Voge in Freiburg. Warburg supplied a very necessary complement with iconology, while the others developed the basic research in the objective study of the work of art. At the same time, other com¬ pletely unrelated areas were being explored, not the least of which was prehistoric art, that were incompatible with Wolfflin's method.

SIGNIFICANT FORM Roger Fry (1866-1934), another formalist scholar of classic and contemporary art, was trained also as a natural scientist and as a painter.7 He studied painting in his native England, in France, and in Italy; his early thinking about art was entirely rooted in the Italian Renaissance, and the books by Giovanni Morelli were his guides. Fry lectured on Italian art through the 1890s and as a summation of that experience published a monograph on Giovanni Bellini (1899), a book written under the direct influence of Bernard Berenson. In 1904 he traveled in Germany and met Wilhelm von Bode and Georg Gronau, and the following year he became the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Over the next years — sometimes together with John Pierpont Morgan — he was often in Italy hunting for acquisitions for the Metropolitan Museum. During this time he also discovered the work of Cezanne, one of whose self-portraits he would copy in 1925. In 1910 he organized the first exhibition of Post-Impressionists in London, including the work of Cezanne, Gauguin, van Gogh, Picasso, Signac, Derain, Friesz, and Matisse. It ended in a scandal. He resigned his Metropolitan Museum post in the same year after difficulties with J.P. Morgan. His book Vision and Design was published in 1919, Transformations in 1926, and Flemish Art in 1927. In 1933 he was given a professorship at Cambridge University. His inaugural lecture was entitled "Art History as an Academic Subject." Fry's Last Lectures, edited by Kenneth Clark, appeared in 1939. Fry became a major aesthetic authority in the Anglo-Saxon world. Virginia Woolf, Fry's biographer, said of his impact: "Naturally, artists and art critics being what they are, he was bitterly attacked. He was accused of caring only for the Old Masters or only for the latest fashions. He was always changing his mind and he was obstinately prejudiced in favour of his friends' work. In spite of failings that should have made his opinion wor¬ thless, it had weight — for some reason or other Roger Fry had influence, more influence, it was agreed, than any critic since Ruskin at the height of his fame." Form was at the core of his aesthetic, yet like Ruskin he attempted to include the reality of his day into a vision that, like Burckhardt's or Wolfflin's, abided by classical standards and never stinted the formal aspects of art. He wrote: "I considered the form of a work its most essential quality, yet believed too that form is the direct result of the artist's grasp of a feeling of real life....Form and the feeling it conveys were indissolubly joined for me into an aesthetic whole." Quality thus was made of central importance. From Fry one can


XVI The Discovery of Form

learn to distinguish between works of art and works of craft. Consequently Fry arrived at a new level of understanding in regard to African sculpture, which he — to the horror of his French colleagues — compared with Greek sculpture. Clive Bell (1881-1964) carried on the tradition of his friend Fry, whom he had met in 1910.8 He had assisted him in selecting the paintings for the Post-Impressionist show; later, through Gertrude Stein, he was introduced to Picasso, who became a lifelong friend. Bell was strongly influenced by the group of Bloomsbury artists and writers which included Leonard and Virginia Woolf, Lytton Strachey, and the philosopher G.E. Moore. Clive Bell's book Art, published in 1914, was a theoretical manifesto that brought the notion of "significant form" into currency. He asked: "What quality is shared by all objects that provoke our aesthetic emotions? What quality is common to Hagia Sophia and the windows at Chartres, Mexican sculpture, a Persian bowl, Chinese carpets, Giotto's frescoes at Padua, and the masterpieces of Poussin, Piero della Francesca, and Cezanne? Only one answer seems possible — significant form." Whereas formal aspects of works of art were all-important to Bell, the context of their creation remained secondary, symptomatic, mere index. On certain occasions he went so far as to ignore subject matter in art completely: "The representational element in a work of art may be or may be not harmful: always it is irrelevant. For, to appreciate a work of art we need bring with us nothing from life, no knowledge of its ideas and affairs, no familiarity with its emotions. Art transports us from the world of man's activity to a world of aesthetic exaltation." Understandably this exclusively formalistically oriented approach was soon seen critically and challenged by equally one-sided notions of symbol research and the new developments of iconography and iconology. The reverberations of Bell's for¬ malism nevertheless remained strong.



The Discovery of Form

Beyond his direct contact with the Post-Impressionists and other painters and sculptors. Bell was friendly with Igor Stravinsky and Erik Satie, as well as with Virginia Woolf, whose sister Vanessa he married. All this contributed to making him, along with Fry, one of the decisive arbiters of taste in early twentieth-century England.

THE LIFE OF FORMS Comparable to the works of Wolfflin in Germany and Fry and Bell in England, the work of Henri Focillon (1881-1943) is a milestone in formal studies.9 In contrast to the dominant French iconographic tradition, exemplified by Emile Male, Focillon in his book Vie des formes of 1934 makes form the center of his study. Focillon taught at the Sorbonne and Yale University, directed the art museum in Lyons, and was instrumental in setting up the cultural organizations of the League of Nations. Rene Huyghe sums up the motive for Focillon's formal concerns as "a show of permanent surprise over the fact that art as such cannot be explained away by history, can neither 'mirror' it nor 'emanate' from it." Hence Focillon's pronouncement: "The work of art exists only by virtue of being form." It is the credo for a study of the meaning of forms, their interrelationship, their materiality. Even iconography is seen in formalistic terms. In Vie des formes Focillon wrote: "One can see iconography in different ways, either as the variation of forms in regard to one and the same meaning, or as the variation of meanings in regard to one and the same form." While Focillon surveyed a universal range of works, he also certainly had preferred examples, as evidenced by his first book on Benvenuto Cellini10 and subsequent studies on Piero della Francesca, Raphael, Piranesi, Callot, Diirer, Rembrandt, Tiepolo, and Hokusai, as well as on Buddhist art. All these interests merged into one qualitative standard. Formal integrity binds the study of Western and Oriental, ancient and modem art: "Synthesis re¬ mains the goal of research which in lesser hands would easily fly apart into tiny fragments."11 Like Wolfflin, Focillon focused on the creative process, on artists' thoughts: an effort of reconstruction, therefore, or, as he said, "to think like an artist — that is my main goal." His small book L'eloge de la main (1939) emblematically sums up the insight of a lifetime: "The mind guides the hand, the hand the mind."12 Focillon's dazzling, typically French critical style, even if it sometimes made him suspect among his colleagues, placed his work in the tradition of French art criticism and art history. As one of his students, Charles Sterling, suggested: "Focillon's brilliance places him at the summit of French art criticism, as the peer of Fromentin, Baudelaire, and Courajod." Rene Huyghe concurred, and added the names of Louis Gillet and Emile Male to the great French tradition that Focillon synthesized. Duncan Phillips spoke of him as a great artist, an artist whose materials were the eloquence, intuition, logic, and structual sense of French criticism. In the years of the Second World War when Focillon was a visiting professor at Yale University, he became influential among American art historians such as George Henri Focillon


Kubler, G.H. Hamilton, Carroll Meeks, and many others (see chapter 20).

XVI The Discovery of Form

THEODOR HETZER Theodor Hetzer (1890-1946) belongs to the German school of thought begun by Conrad Fiedler.13 Bom in Kharkov in Russia of German parents, he moved to Switzerland with his mother after the death of his father. He started off as one of Voge's students in Freiburg, and from 1910 studied in Munich and Berlin with Wolfflin, Goldschmidt, Hildebrand, Heidrich, and Weisbach; but his primary mentor was Friedrich Rintelen, his eventual doc¬ toral advisor, whom he first met in Berlin and followed to Basel in 1914. His professorship in Leipzig, assumed in 1934, was punctuated with bouts of illness after 1941, and he died in 1946 in Ueberlingen, on Lake Constance. Like many artists and art historians of the period, Hetzer made form his central topic. He addressed that topic in his work on a by-now-familiar canon of painters: Giotto, Raphael, Diirer, Titian, Poussin, Goya, and —of greatest interest in Hetzer's last years, as his posthumous writings show — Cezanne. Hetzer considered himself something more than one of the"AttribuzzlerBurckhardt's derisive term for the pedants around him. In the preface to his 1939 appreciation Diirers Bildhoheit, Hetzer stated emphatically: "I have not discovered drawings, I have not changed any chronologies and have not reinterpreted 'Melancholia.'...What follows is the distilla¬ tion of much time spent joyfully admiring the works of Diirer." After Rintelen gave his student a solid foundation in Giotto, Hetzer's studies ranged over the art of the next five centuries, always with the problems of modern art in mind. In his book on Titian, Hetzer speculated that "one of the urgent tasks awaiting art history is to deal with the relation between space and surface plane. The still-widespread opinion that since the development of perspective in the fifteenth century deep space has super¬ seded surface is false, and it has led to a sad misconception of the nature and history of modern painting." Hetzer worked out an original terminology that centered on a distinction between the pictorial figure (Bildfigur) and the pictorial motif (Bildmotif), which he explained as follows: "...the pictorial figure is like, but not identical with, the pictorial motif. Whereas the pictorial motif signifies a unity of forms and picture parts in relation to the picture boundaries, and is crucial in creating a total impres¬ sion, the pictorial figure is only partial." Unlike his predecessors, Hetzer put great stress on the role of color. This, in fact, was his most original contribution: the Titian monograph has been called a treatise on European color schemes. Hetzer admitted the delicacy of this operation in a lecture of 1934: "It is hard to describe colors, even absurd. They bear describing as little as sounds in music do, and so they point to a certain poverty in language that no invention of terminology can repair." Yet Hetzer was thoroughly convinced that the question of color had to be addressed, "...both its role within a painting and how art¬ ists' color sense changes....It is pointless for me to start, say, enumerating the colors in a Titian object by object as if that could yield an adequate description; but it is something else to note that at a certain time Titian uses pure, intense, even tones, high contrasts and abstract skin coloring to suit an ideal style of forms and motions, yet at another prefers subtle gradations, nuances, complementary

Theodor Hetzer


XVI The Discovery of Form

colors, and mutes his oppositions to suit more formal images of repose." Hetzer, strongly committed to mediating between art history and contemporary art, understood to what extent Cezanne returned to traditional sources; in this regard he came to conclusions that were close to those of another great pupil of Wilhelm Voge, Kurt Badt. Yet he also realized that historians like Burckhardt and Grimm had done more to revive interest in Raphael than formal imitations of his work by even the greatest artists. Remarks from Hetzer's posthumous papers neatly sum up his attitudes: A masterpiece has an order all its own, its parts add up to a whole. Its order is dictated by genius, by the artist's particular formative power: that is its actual artistic element. It is made of some material — words, sounds, colors, lines, paper, bronze, and so forth — and it respects the essential nature, the inherent will, of that material. It emerges as an object. How the artist deals with this object is a matter of temperament — as classicist, romanticist, realist, whatever — but temperament by itself cannot make a work great, distinct as it may be in a Raphael, Rem¬ brandt, Diirer, or Velazquez. One thing alone makes a work great, and it is not theories or precepts or norms but simply the degree of an artist's integrity. There can be normative or experimental artists, many different manners and schools. This rich period between Fiedler and Hetzer, the period of Wolfflin's "art-historywithout-names" put greatest emphasis on movements, individual capacities, concepts, tenden¬ cies. At the same time art historians became aware that their priorities were close to those of active artists — further proof of the claim Wolfflin made in 1914: "Art and art history work in a parallel manner."





rt history in France, though studied as actively as in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, was generally narrower in its scope and limited to French art: it ranged

from archeologie (the study of medieval art and architecture) to work on the French tradi¬ tion in art from the fifteenth to the seventeenth century. Werner Weisbach, while visiting France, noted a polarity similar to that in German research between cultural history and connoisseurship of single works: "Molinier and Muntz can be considered as representative of two trends in French art history, one devoted to stylistics and connoisseurship, the other to genetic method and archival research (though of course a strict division between the two would be impossible). But there is no equivalent for the philosophically and aesthetically oriented formal methods or the Geisteswissenschaft approach as we know them in German¬ speaking countries, through the work of Burckhardt, Justi, Vischer, Wolfflin, Fiedler, Riegl, and others." Weisbach ultimately decided French scholarship had nothing to offer him, and he focused instead on the french critics who made imporatant contributions to art history: the Goncourts, Fromentin, Baudelaire. Nevertheless, art history as an acknowledged discipline has a long history in France, dating back to the work of Seroux d'Agincourt, Alexandre Lenoir, and Vivant Denon at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The work of these pioneers was continued by Count Charles de Lasteyrie-Dusaillant (1800-1879), inspector of street and bridge construction under Louis Philippe and an expert in stained glass and goldsmithing technique. His con¬ temporary A. de Caumont (1801-1872), a specialist in medieval architecture, was one of the first scholars of Romanesque style. His six-volume Cours d'antiquite monumentales, published in 1836, is a milestone for the period, along with Cahier and Martin's 1841 study on the stained glass of Bourges. Adolphe-Napoleon Didron (1806-1867) concentrated his research on Christian iconography and published Iconographie chretienne-histoire de Dieu (1843) and Manual d'iconographie chretienne, grecque et latine (1843), which remained a pioneering work in this field. Henri Delaborde (1811-1899) came to art history by way of a painting apprenticeship with Delaroche. A curator of the print collection of the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris from 1855, his works include the two-volume Etudes sur les beaux-arts en France et en Italie (1864), Ingres (1870), and Marc Antoine Raimondi (1887). Jules Etienne Quicherat (1814-1882) had been a professor at the Ecole des Chartes, an extremely influential academy in the methodology of research in history, which opened in 1847; there he made an impor¬ tant contribution to the reawakening of the French tradition. Rene Huyghe wrote of this fertile field of important scholars: "It gave works of art their 'vital statistics,' a date that fixed them to a place in time and the certainty of belonging to a school'; the influences attributed to them brought these works in the central canon of art history."1 185

XVII Art History at the Turn of the Century

Andre Michel

>' ,-pm,

Emile Male


But French art history achieved its first pinnacle only in the latter half of the nineteenth century, with the work of Louis Courajod (1841-1896).2 Courajod extended his research beyond archeologie to include French art of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, as in his catalogue raisonne of the sculptor Jean Warin3 and in a three-volume work dedicated to Alexandre Lenoir, the creator of the Musee des Monuments Frangais in Paris. Like Carl Justi in Germany, Courajod was interested in the early art historiography of his own heritage. French art history reached a "Renaissance" stage with the work of Eugene Muntz (1845-1902). Like several German art historians in the nineteenth century, Muntz also began his studies in the field of law and only later, after his appointment as a member of the French Academy in Rome, turned to art history. Muntz, similar in many ways to Burckhardt, charted vast historical concepts, such as art under the papacy or Renaissance civilization. His in¬ fluential series of monographs — on Donatello in 1885, on Verrocchio in 1891, on Raphael in 1900, and on Leonardo da Vinci in 1902 — reveals both Muntz's scholarly development and his limitations. Like Courajod, Muntz was also concerned with understand¬ ing art history as an institution, especially the history of art collecting, as exem¬ plified by the Medici collections and Paolo Giovio's museum in Como. Andre Michel (1853-1925), a student of Courajod's and Hippolyte Taines's, was appointed a curator at the Louvre in 1896.4 After 1905 until his death in 1925, he worked on a seventeen-volume Histoire de I’art, still one of the major works of French art historiography, completed in 1929 by Paul Vitry. Yet French art history undoubtedly found its greatest practitioner, and greatest reformer, in Emile Male (1862-1954).5 Above all Male brought about a new understanding of French religious art. His teaching at the Sorbonne, where he was made a full professor in 1912, made iconography one of the leading concerns of French art history. His masterpiece, L'art religieux du XHIe siecle en France (1898), received great acclaim abroad as well, on its publication in England in 1902 and in Germany in 1907. Among its many points of interest were its information on materials and on the role of ecclesiastical patronage of large-scale projects. During the First World War, Male intervened in a highly unpleas¬ ant, no doubt politically motivated, quarrel between French and German art historians, in which he sided with his compatriots in dismissing German medieval architecture as derivative.6 As an early iconographer, Male has relevance today as the founder of a branch of study that has gained great currency over the last few decades. But even if iconography were less fashionable, Male's study of medieval symbolism would have to rank as one of France's greatest art-historical achievements. The work of Elie Faure (1873-1937) bridged classical and con¬ temporary art, the so-called primitive art of all cultures with that of the twentieth century.7 Faure was a connoisseur of individual works — whether by anonymous Indians, famous Chinese painters, Velazquez, Goya, or Cezanne — and his method greatly influenced the works of Andre Malraux and Rene Huyghe. Faure was a follower of Henri Bergson. He was engaged in the defense of Colonel Dreyfus and demanded new universities for workers; he taught art history at one of these from 1905 to 1909. In 1909 the first volume of his Histoire

XVII Art History at the Turn of the Century

de lart appeared, which was completed only in 1921; it had a brilliant inter¬ national success and is enthusiastically mentioned in many writings of Henry Miller. Like Emile Male, Salomon Reinach (1858-1932) was concerned with the symbolism of myths, ritual, and religion, putting a new emphasis on early history. His five-volume Mythes, cultes et religions was first published be¬ tween 1905 and 1912. Reinach had already dealt comprehensively with Greek and Roman art in Apollo: Histoire generale des arts plastiques, published in 1904, which actually surveyed art from its origins to the present day: Art Nouveau and the new sensibility evident in the work of Rodin and Meunier. Reinach's cosmopolitan outlook let him see the debt of Art Nouveau to English art and Ruskin's aesthetics, and modem art's debt to Japan. In an effort to find other sources for understanding twentieth-century

Elie Faure

art, Reinach considered the rise of technology: "What artist today, even if he had the imitative genius of a van Eyck, would dare compete with light-sensitive plates? What we should therefore demand of art is precisely what photography cannot provide: suggestive beauty of forms, of movements, dazzling brightness or mysterious darkness of color — in a word, everything that poetry is in relation to literature."8 Reinach's remarks on coming tendencies in art, made in 1904, were clearly prophetic: "I am convinced that art in the twentieth century will be as poetic and idealistic as it will be popular and folkish: a perpetual longing on the part of the individual to satisfy all of mankind with all that is lacking in day-to-day existence, to adorn it with the real luxury our spirits crave and which no material progress alone can satisfy." In an essay of 1903, "L'art et la magie," Reinach elaborated on these nonmaterial forces: "It would be an exaggeration to claim that magic alone is the origin of art and to deny the role played by the mimetic instincts, or the desire for ornamentation, or the urge to com¬ municate thoughts. And yet it seems that in the so-called Age du Renne the development of magic was indeed the chief reason for art." This change in the way of viewing art had already been introduced by Paul Gauguin in 1887. Reinach was the director of the Musee des Antiquites Nationales in Saint-Germain-enLaye. Officially he was an archaeologist and paleontologist. Alongside the explorer of cave art Henri Breuil (1877-1961), Reinach's elemental and magical view of art was quite conso¬ nant with the art trends of his day. Breuil's and Reinach's interests in content, however, link them as scholars to Male. The further development of art history in France was determined by Camille Enlart, Louis Brehier, Rene Huyghe, Paul Vitry, Louis Hautecoeur, Marcel Aubert, Louis Grodecki, Jean Seznec, Jean Adhemar, Louis Gillet, Jurgis Baltrusaitis, and Andre Chastel.

VENTURI AND RICCI In nineteenth-century Italy, connoisseurs like Morelli and Cavalcaselle had managed to create interest in the individual work of art, particularly where questions of authenticity arose. It was to this tradition that Adolfo Venturi (1856-1941) and Corrado Ricci (1858-1934) belonged. Venturi had been a student of Cavalcaselle's, whose obituary he wrote in 1898 for the Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst.9 A native of Modena, Venturi quickly rebelled against the


XVII Art History at the Turn of the Century

Adolfo Venturi

Corrado Ricci

excessively abstract, system-bound nature of art history as he was taught it. When he wrote about the civic art gallery of Modena in 1883, or the private collection of Rudolf II in Prague in 1885, or Gentile da Fabriano and Pisanello in 1896, it was always with a concern for individual works. In 1901 Venturi published the first volume of his monumental Storia dell arte italiana, which, by 1940, one year before his death, would grow to twenty-five volumes, the largest such history of the art of any single nation. Between 1888 and 1898, Venturi was chief inspector of fine arts in Rome. Besides being a professor at the University of Rome and working steadily on his Storia (which of course made him a leading figure among Italian art historians), Venturi was concerned with in¬ dividual artists, publishing books on Raphael in 1920, Francesco di Giorgio Martini in 1925, Correggio in 1926, and Giovanni Pisano in 1928. Venturi's career reads like a compendium of the best aspects of Italian scholarship. The Romanian art historian Virgil Vata§ianu once wrote that Adolfo Venturi, when asked why he concentrated exclusively on Italian art, answered that Italian art in itself had such complexity and such importance that in com¬ parison the development of art in other countries was of no interest to him. Corrado Ricci, another important representative of Italian connoisseurship, was a long¬ time director of the Pinacoteca di Brera in Milan, later becoming director of the museums in Florence and finally the general director of antiquities and fine arts in Rome. His History of Northern Italian Art is a standard work, and his other publications — on Baroque archi¬ tecture and sculpture, Alberti's Tempio Malatestiano, and Correggio — reveal equal mastery. It is a mastery limited — as was Venturi's — to the art of Italy, and as such it belongs to a tradition that goes all the way back to Vasari. Ricci's work rested unabashedly on the premise that "no country in the world can boast a greater artistic heritage." The patriotism of such a claim was often in conflict with scholarly objectivity. It would take time, in fact, for the influence of Croce and the Vienna School to rid Italian art historiography of a residual chauvinism — to reach the objective maturity of scholars like Roberto Pane, Giuseppe Fiocco,



Art History at the Turn of the Century

Mario Salmi, Roberto Longhi, Carlo Ludovico Ragghianti, Rodolfo Pallucchini, or Roberto Salvini. More recent criticism, such as the writings of Giulio Carlo Argan, Manfredo Tafuri, and Paolo Portoghesi, tends to find new perspectives on the art of the past through contem¬ porary culture.

BERNARD BERENSON If Adolfo Venturi was the spiritual heir to Cavalcaselle, Bernard Berenson (1865-1959) was heir to Giovanni Morelli. Bom in Vilna, Berenson emigrated to the United States and, with Arthur Kingsley Porter and Charles Rufus Morey, helped to shape the course of art history in America.10 Berenson graduated from Harvard University in 1887. Even in his student days he was in contact with the architect Ralph Adams Cram and with wealthy American collectors, especially Isabella Stewart Gardner, whose art collecting he supervised. When he left Harvard, his friends raised $750, enough at the time for him to spend a year in Europe. This of course was an investment in an art historian who became an indispensible expert for rich patrons, for whom collecting meant great social prestige. Franz Wickhoff began following Berenson's career from the time his monograph on Lorenzo Lotto appeared in 1901, and he wrote then of the young "Lermolieffian": "One could say that he leaves nothing of an artist or a painting but the bare bones — the artistic skeleton — having no regard for historical, cultural, or in¬ tellectual context. He distills an artist's essence by tossing away his entire personality, oblivious to, or embarassed by, the fact that he is a living, breathing human being." Berenson's efforts in Italy were under constant scrutiny, and though some of his clients were dissatisfied with his results, Mrs. Gardner continued to support him. In a diary entry of October 31, 1950, Berenson recalled his first stay in Rome: "I first visited Rome in the autumn of 1888. For several months I did nothing but walk through that city from early

morning until bedtime. Caffe latte cost five soldi, I often went without lunch_I slept in the studio of an acquaintance, who had hired a bed for me... .Looking and reading were enough for me —but mostly looking." The publication in 1903 of his book on the drawings of Florentine painters made Berenson instantly famous. Franz Wickhoff himself was obliged to rank it with the best work of Cavalcaselle. Berenson, soon enough able to sign himself simply as "B.B.," was immediately acknowledged as one of the most important art experts in Italy. His friend Edith Wharton fashioned the hero of one of her novels after him; Marcel Proust mined Berenson's book for artistic material for his work. A descendent of rabbis, Berenson was an elegant, aristocratic figure, impeccable in his bearing and highly articulate, with an allegedly Dantean command of Italian. According to one story, a Venetian gondolier who took Berenson down the wrong canal was so delighted by the eloquence of his passenger's insults that he simply forgot to be offended. Having become legend, Berenson created a virtual court around himself in Horence in his Villa I Tatti. The English architect Geoffrey Scott was for a time his secretary and librarian, and was deeply influenced by Berenson in his thoughts about architec¬ ture. Kenneth Clark, who served as an assistant to Berenson around 1926, described in his autobiography the influence of William James to whom Berenson was dedicated

Bernard Berenson


XVII Art History at the Turn of the Century

in those times. Visitors from all over the world consulted Berenson. His verdicts on Italian Old Masters were decisive in their day, and, indeed, Berenson's attributions were often cor¬ roborated by documents found later. Though his writings on Italian art were far from exhaustive, Berenson had other ar¬ tistic interests, as his collection of Greek antiquities and Chinese bronzes testifies. He also had the merit of being the first important critic to write enthusiastically about Cezanne, and he was one of the first admirers of Matisse. In spite of the fact that he had a clear theoretical grasp of their art and the historical coherence of modern art, he chose to ignore its further development. In Aesthetics and History, published in 1948, Berenson states: "The past has become the personal history of every individual, that is of every cultivated person, harboring fertile soil for the future for anyone who will not mystify or romanticize it." And later: "All interest in the past is intricately tied to problems of the present; like the present, it changes, its typical features alter, and with it our opinions about particular works of art. It is for this reason — not because new facts are found about art, valuable as these often are — that history must continually be rewritten."

ENGLAND, SCANDINAVIA, HOLLAND, AND RUSSIA Erwin Panofsky termed Campbell Dodgson (1867-1948) "one of the giants of art history."11 He belonged to the remarkable generation of scholars that included Emile Male, Adolph Goldschmidt, Wilhelm Voge, Bernard Berenson, Roger Fry, Aby Warburg, and Heinrich Wolfflin, and who had such a decisive impact on art history of the twentieth century. Dodgson, like most members of that generation, concentrated on the objective exploration of individual works. His major concentration was on the art of Albrecht Diirer and other artists of the Renaissance, but he was also capable of writing about his contemporaries. In England, this approach to art already existed as an undercurrent. It was cultivated, in contradistinction to that of Ruskin, Pater, Wilde, and Fry, by museum art historians such as Nicholas Ralph Wornum, one of the first experts enlisted in the Dresden Holbein con¬ troversy (he doubted its authenticity), and Charles Eastlake, author of the first survey of Neo-Gothic art in England, A History of the Gothic Revival (1872). Other distinguished members of this other tradition include Tancred Borenius, A. Gardner, E.S. Prior, E.G. Millar, Lady Dilke, and Herbert Horne. Werner Weisbach set Campbell Dodgson at the forefront of English historians: Since art history was unknown then in England as an academic discipline, Dodgson was essentially forced to teach himself. Because he came from a well-to-do family, he was able to find the leisure both to study on his own and to travel, which gave him a very solid foundation in art history. Temperamentally he was suited to specialization, and he happily accepted becoming an expert in graphic arts; he approached this with painstaking precision and an almost sacred seriousness. An Englishman to the core, he was a restrained man, a bit stiff, easing up only gradually, yet of course remaining always the proper gentleman, though never coldly so: he was a naturally kind man. As a private amateur he built up a con¬ siderable collection of modern English graphic works, and when I visited him he was quite obliging and helpful, explaining art with which I was very unfamiliar.



Art History at the Turn of the Century

He kept a cozy house, his elderly mother lived with him, and there was an oldfashioned spirit about the place. Dodgson continued the tradition of interest in book production and graphic design begun by William Morris. His chief works, a study of Diirer and a bibliography of Cranach, are masterpieces of a certain very narrow area of expertise. Herbert Horne (1864-1916) was an outstanding scholar of Botticelli. His pioneering book Alessandro Filipepi, Called Sandro Botticelli, Painter of Florence, published in 1908 and re-edited with an introduction by John Pope-Hennessy in 1980, led to a re-evaluation of the artist. The turn of the century saw an increase in the number of outstanding scholars in countries that had never before been known to produce them: not only Finland and Sweden but also Russia, Holland, and Belgium. The chief figure to cite here is J.J. Tikkanen of Finland (1857-1931), a groundbreaking expert in Giotto, who between 1895 and 1900 produced a major work Die Psalterillustrationen im Mittelalter. Also of importance was his book

Ueber die Beinstellungen in der Kunstgeschichte, published in 1912, in which he arrived at new knowledge from a seemingly peripheral angle. The man usually credited with establishing art history in Sweden, Johnny Roosval (1879-1965), had received his training under Wolfflin, Goldschmidt, and Frankl and specialized in the medieval art of Northern Europe, particularly of Gotland (Die Kirchen Gotlands, 1911; Die Steinmeister Gotlands, 1918). As a professor in Stockholm from 1920, he influenced an entire generation of Swedish art historians, specifically by his monumental work Sveriges

Kyrkov which he began to publish in 1912. Henrik Cornell (1890-1981) continued the tradition of his teacher Johnny Roosval, concentrating on late medieval wall painting in central Sweden. His findings in this area were published in collaboration with Sigurd Wall during the years from 1917 to 1972. Cornell was professor (Ordinarius) for art history at the University of Stockholm between 1931 and 1957. Another influential figure, Osvald Siren (1879-1966), was a leading curator of the National Museum in Stockholm as well as professor at the university there. He was one of the rare art historians who attempted to cover all the major areas of art production in the world. In 1908 he published a study on Giottino, and in 1922 on Tuscan painting of the thirteenth century. After these, however. Siren dealt more and more with the art of East Asia, in important works such as The Walls and Gates of Peking (1924), Histoire des

arts anciens de la Chine (1929-30), Flistoire de la peinture chinoise (1935), The Chinese on the Art of Painting (1936), and Gardens of China (1949). As an authority on the common denominators of Asian and European culture, Siren may offer crucial lessons to future art historians. Another representative of the Swedish tradition, Gregor Paulsson (born 1889), specialized in contemporary art and the sociological aspects of the history of art. In 1930 he was made the superintendent of exhibitions in Stockholm, and was a professor at the University of Uppsala from 1934 to 1956, where his students included Anton Kriesis, who continued his teacher's work in urban planning, and Rudolf Zeitler, a specialist in early nineteenth-century art. Russian art history, largely influenced by the Vienna School, is best represented by the work of Igor Emanuilovich Grabar (1871-1960), N.P. Kondakov (1844-1925), D. Ainalov, Michael V. Alpatov (1902-1986), Nikolai Brunov (1898-1971), and Nekrassov. Alpatov in particular has contributed to a reevaluation of Eastern European art. In 1925 he edited, in collaboration with Oscar Wulff, the volume Denkmaler der Ikonenmalerei; in 1932 he



Art History at the Turn of the Century

Abraham Bredius

Cornelius Hofstede de Groot

published, in collaboration with Brunov, Geschichte der altrussischen Kunst. Alpatov later became intensely involved in Byzantine and Western European art (Italian Art during the Epoch of Dante and Giotto, 1939; Die Kunstprobleme der Renaissancekunst, 1976). The Belgian Max Rooses (1839-1914), known to his contempcraries as "the Flemish Taine,"12 constructed large historical syntheses of Flemish art, paving the way for a school of Belgian art history which would include Leo van Puyvelde (1882-1965), Marguerite Devigne (1884-1965), and Raimond van Marie (1887-1936), and influencing both academic and museum practices.13 The Dutchmen who best interpreted their own vast native art tradition were Abraham Bredius (1855-1946), Wilhelm Martin (1876-1954), and Cornelis Hofstede de Groot (1863-1930). Hofstede de Groot, who was director of the Mauritshuis in the Hague and

Hofstede de Groot and his students, standing left to right: Kaufmann, Valentiner, Lilienfeld, Stechow, Erasmus, Bauch, Wichmann, Hirschmann, Plietzsch. Sitting: Hofstede de Groot and Elena Neurdenburg


XVII Art History at the Turn of the Century

of the print collection in Amsterdam, had a decisive impact on German art historians, as manifested in his pupils Wolfgang Stechow, Emil Kaufmann, Kurt Bauch, Otto Hirschmann, Plietsch, and W.R. Valentiner. Major works by Hofstede de Groot are his eight-volume

Rembrandt (1897-1905), with Wilhelm von Bode, and his ten-volume Beschreibendes und kritisches Verzeichnis der hollandischen Maler des 17. Jahrhunderts (1907-28).14 Later out¬ standing art historians from Holland include H.E. van Gelder, G J. Hoogewerff, Horst Gerson, and William S. Heckscher, who worked in Utrecht for several years. (See chapter 20.)

ADOLPH GOLDSCHMIDT After the expansion of German art history into system building and cultural history, Adolph Goldschmidt (1863-1944) gave the discipline a new foundation by concentrating on the material to be investigated; he thereby created an epoch-making school that influenced research methods well beyond Germany.15 Active as a professor in Berlin and Halle and possessed, in Otto von Taube's words, of "pedagogical genius," Goldschmidt overcame the dangerous crisis of theoretical scholarship in art history with his uncompromising striving for exactitude and objectivity. For Goldschmidt, experiencing a work of art was the absolute precondition for seeking the objectively attainable facts by a scientific method. Goldschmidt came to art history by way of finance, a career that his father had urged on him. In 1883 he took a banking job in London. Meanwhile, though, he was painting. A year later he gave up finance altogether, returned to Germany, and spent three years at the University of Jena, where he moved into the history of art by way of classical studies. After a term in Kiel in 1886 he transferred to Leipzig to study with Anton Springer; in 1889 he finished a thesis on the painting and sculpture of Liibeck. Delicate health often forced Goldschmidt to travel south, to Switzerland and Italy. While convalescing in Sicily in 1890 he studied the art of the Norman kings; his findings were published in the late 1890s. In 1891 he toured France, England, Holland, and Belgium. He won an academic position in 1892 with a work published three years later in Berlin en¬ titled Der Albani Psalter in Hildesheim und seine Beziehung zur symbolischen Kirchenskulptur

des 12. Jahrhunderts. Goldschmidt began his academic career as a reader and instructor in Berlin, then was offered the position of professor of art history at Halle in 1904. While beginning his ex¬ tremely successful academic career he also was involved in contemporary art at the Halle Kunstverein (Art Association) and was a cofounder of the town's theater association. Goldschmidt became a specialist in medieval art, opening up new areas of inquiry with definitive studies of, above all, book illumination and ivory carving, topics with which Goldschmidt's name will always be connected. Hans Jantzen has compared Goldschmidt's special merits with those of Wolfflin and Voge: "Goldschmidt had neither the eloquence of Voge nor the sweeping sense of basic principles of Wolfflin. He never fleshes out the well-stripped skeleton of his observations. He points instead to the decisive places, the intersections of any given material. He never presents facts in a cut-and-dried fashion but allows their historical truth to emerge." In 1912 Goldschmidt's accomplishments won him Wolfflin's chair in Berlin; here he was able to extend the work he had begun in Halle and in the process achieve an international reputation. He was soon given the honorary title Geheimrat



Art History at the Turn of the Century

Adolph Goldschmidt and Kuno Franke (sitting) in front of the Golden Portal

and made a member of the Academy of Sciefices. It would be difficult to name all the art historians directly influenced by his work, but those closest to him included Adolf Behne, Ernst Gall, Alexander Dorner, Georg Troscher, Hans Kauffmann, Erwin Panofsky, Ludwig Baldass, Harms Szwarzenski, E.F. Bange, Erich Meyer, Rudolf Wittkower, Alfred Neumeyer, Leopold Reidemeister, and Walter Paatz. Goldschmidt's exhaustive research on ivory sculpture appeared piecemeal, in 1912,1914, 1918, and 1923. These publications were followed by works on Romanesque and Gothic sculpture, on bronze doors, on Dutch portraiture of the seventeenth century, and on the survival of antique form in the Middle Ages. This last-named topic was the subject of a lecture that Goldschmidt gave in 1921 at the Warburg Library in Hamburg, where he was invited back later to deliver another lecture, "Fruhmittelalterliche illustrierte Enzyklopadien." He also lectured at the Prussian Academy of Sciences in Berlin ("Ueber mittelalterliche Schachfiguren" and to the Berlin Art-Historical Society ("Ueber das Verhaltnis von Malerei und Plastik im Mittelalter"). In addition, he did research on Carolingian and Ottoman book illumination in Germany and on the bronze doors of Novgorod and Gnesen. The result of these studies was a demonstration of the continuity between Byzantine art and that of the later Middle Ages. The fascinating diversity of Goldschmidt's interests is further attested to by his discus¬ sions and writings on Max Liebermann and other artists in his circle, by his participation in founding the German Art-Historical Association, and by his involvement with the monumental publication on German art treasures, the Corpus monumentorum artis ger-

maniae. Goldschmidt was a lively participant in all the important debates of his profession as well as being a friend of important cultural figures outside the field, such as the writer Ernst Hardt. He had great musical sensitivity and was a gourmet cook (helped in the latter perhaps by being a bachelor). Panofsky has written amusingly of Goldschmidt's wry sense of humor, particularly during his first few years as a professor in Berlin when he continually had to face the skep-



Art History at the Turn of the Century

ticism of Wolfflin's disciples. At seminars held in the former Kaiser Friedrich Museum Goldschmidt had to pry many students loose from excessively rigid formalism. He asked one, for instance, simply to describe what he saw in a certain Ruisdael landscape, and was told, "A horizontal intersected by a diagonal," to which he replied, "Curious, but I seem to see much more there!" The following semester, during one particularly long-winded preface to a report on the art theory of Saint Augustine, Goldschmidt cut in repeatedly with: "Get to the point!" When the point finally came out —"... this figure could be compared to the church steeples of the same period" — Goldschmidt said quietly, "Which steeple from that time do you know?" On another occasion, as a dandified student from Bonn was delivering some rather rash and extravagant theories about the Bernward doors in Hildesheim, pointing to diagrams with the gilded tip of his walking stick, Goldschmidt abruptly asked him: "Did Professor Clemen tell you any of this?" "No," the student answered proudly, "these are all my own ideas." "I am very relieved to hear that," answered Goldschmidt. Carl Georg Heise recounts that "Papa Goldschmidt" was a prolific book reviewer, par¬ ticularly of books written by former students. One of these that Goldschmidt offered to review was Heise's own Norddeutsche Malerei. "It started positively, indeed amiably, enough," noted Heise. "But by the end of the review Goldschmidt was accusing me of forcing conclu¬ sions, of being much too sure of myself — or, as he memorably put it, The author would have us believe he once served as secretary to God.'" It was a sentence Heise convinced his teacher to moderate slightly for the publication, but one he could never erase from his own memory. After the First World War Goldschmidt was the first German art historian invited to lecture in the United States. This was in 1921, and it is fair to say that Goldschmidt virtually transplanted German art history to America — and this despite the fact that he was still less known and less celebrated in his own country than Wolfflin or Thode. Panofsky recounted of this visit: "Goldschmidt endeared himself to the Americans, and they in turn appreciated far more than the Germans his special blend of authority and humility, the quiet elegance of his appearance, his charming self-irony, his utter lack of pomposity, his refusal to be doctrinaire." He added: "Every aspect of American life (Hollywood included) fascinated Goldschmidt, and even when he responded critically to various details of it, it was couched in language so tactful that those his criticism pertained to only liked him all the more." In one such episode, a highly competent American art historian was demonstrating the advantages of ultraviolet rays for determining the authenticity and date of a work. In the presence of Goldschmidt, the world's greatest expert on ivory, this professor applied his new method to ivory pieces. Finally he asked his guest what he thought of all this. Goldschmidt carefully examined various pieces, looked up and said with a smile: "First, Dr. X., you must show me a genuine ivory." Goldschmidt was given emeritus status in 1930; and though concerned Americans warned him against returning to Germany when he visited the United States again in 1936-37, and enticed him to stay with offers of the most distinguished academic posts, he refused to con¬ sider emigrating. As he argued: "How long will I be of use to them? And why should the Americans, who owe me nothing, care for me in my old age? But I have served the Prussian state for over forty years, and it owes me something in return." When the worsening political situation forced Goldschmidt into exile in 1939, he fled to Basel, where he remained until his death in 1944.


XVII Art History at the Turn of the Century

ART HISTORY AND THE EVALUATION OF QUALITY The outstanding work of Wilhelm Voge (1868-1952), synthesized the diverse research methods of Goldschmidt and Wolfflin, bringing together the study of materials with the methods of formal analysis.16 Panofsky commented that Voge's "method was as all-inclusive as his personal involvement in art was individualistic. It combined the feeling for materials of a connoisseur with the accuracy of a bibliographer, paleographer, and document researcher and with the exegetical demands of a historian, psychologist, and iconologist." Voge's highly individual style was in part due to an uncommonly ambidextrous museum and university career. Like Goldschmidt, Voge studied with Anton Springer in Leipzig. While a student he also spent a good deal of time in the Berlin museums, where he was eventually to work for many years. He transferred for a few semesters to attend the classes of Justi and Thode in Bonn, where he also became friendly with Paul Clemen, Aby Warburg, and Karl Lamprecht. After advanced work in Strasbourg with Hubert Janitschek, he traveled in France to continue research on his main interest, French sculpture of the twelfth century. Above all he was concerned with the crucial transition between Romanesque and Gothic style, which he saw best exemplified by the royal portal at Chartres. His dissertation, completed in 1890 under Janitschek in Strasbourg, was entitled Tine deutsche Malerschule um die Wende des ersten Jahrtausends" and was published in 1891. While in Italy in 1894, where he spent part of his time with Adolph Goldschmidt, Voge gathered materials for a book that would be published two years later, Raphael und Donatello. Voge's method, which was directed towards questions of quality, led to the following con¬ clusion: concepts of style must be derived from the masters of a movement and not from their imitators. This study of the work of geniuses, said Voge, "in no way violates the idea of 'organic' evolution in art. It is simply the greatest artists who represent 'evolution,' not the others, who scarcely matter. That heady potion the poet says geniuses pass to each other in golden cups goes high over the heads of the others." These sentences are good examples of Voge's aphoristic verve when wrapping up an argument. Later his prose would turn almost expressionistic, as in an essay Zu Konrad Meit: The way, for example, that the upper lip is rendered in tiny folds and turned up (the comers of the mouth!) and how energetic the expression is, are strangely similar [... ] In this tomb of the mother, only the putto on the right bears the mark of Meit. The rest is a feebler sort of mummery — feebler in the figure of Psyche, say, with an almost stuffed-looking body and coy, overtentative hands. No exclamation points, parentheses, or brackets were spared to get the point across in these descriptions. But new means of expression were justifiable if Voge was to create a frankly evaluative form of art-history writing. This project found its full realization in his study Die Anfange des monumentalen Stib im Mittelalter, published in 1894. Two years later Voge was made a lecturer in Strasbourg; after a year there, however, he was asked to join the staff of the Berlin museums. For ten years he worked as an administrative assistant there; his chief accomplishment, a catalogue of German sculpture, remained definitive for many decades. Voge would probably have stayed in the museum much longer if it were not for his bad relations with Wilhelm von Bode. His verse squib "Bode und ich" suggests the formidable pressure he must have been under in those years.



Art History at the Turn of the Century

Werner Weisbach left the following portrait of Voge: "A student of Janitschek's, he had the general reputation of being one of the most promising new art historians. He knew an extraordinary amount about medieval art and had an unusually fine eye, though he never went beyond stylistic analysis. He had a dignified, noble air about him, and he always managed to stay above the petty intrigues and backbiting that we later knew as 'museum warfare.' He did well to give up his museum work for a professorship at Freiburg, for he was much more suited temperamentally to teaching than to officialdom Among the small and select group of students who had access to Voge during his years at the University of Freiburg were Erwin Panofsky, Kurt Badt, Erich von der Bercken, Friedrich Winkler, and Helmut Theodor Bossert. Carl Georg Heise, whom Aby Warburg had urged to attend Freiburg just to hear Voge's lectures, later wrote of them: "At the outset I believe I understood practically nothing of Voge's lectures. The subtlest mind ever to instruct aspir¬ ing art historians — I use the superlative unhesitatingly — lectured for three hours a week on Diirer. It was only at the end of the semester that, having at last supplied what he con¬ sidered a basic introduction to the artist, his final slide was the well-known silverpoint drawing Diirer made at the age of thirteen." Panofsky wrote of Voge: "He was one of those men who go on looking very young even into middle age, so that strangers to his seminars, when he would open the door for them, would ask him to point out the professor to them. Well into his old age his delightful smile conveyed both a sense of skeptical detachment and — I can find no other term for it —a childlike innocence. Only his eyes told how little he slept." Just as Voge's museum activity in Berlin ended with a catastrophe, his teaching in Freiburg did not come to a harmonious conclusion. This time the determining factor was personal. A nervous breakdown forced Voge to retire from teaching in 1916 and to enter a sanatorium.



Art History at the Turn of the Century

which he eventually left without any sign of improvement. For more than ten years he con¬ valesced in the quiet town of Ballenstedt, in the Harz region, never publishing. He was visited only by a few friends, including Aby Warburg, who would soon suffer himself from a similar illness. Yet Voge, like Warburg, did eventually recover and resumed his research around 1930. The results showed no slackening of mental powers: in 1931 he published a book-length study of Niclas Hagnover, the master of the high altar at Isenheim, and later wrote essays on Nikolaus Gerhaert and on German medal engravers. Another book, on Jorg Syrlin, ap¬ peared only much later, in 1950. In the thirties, Voge's aversion to National Socialism, which he later referred to in a letter as "the official philosophy of encephalomalacia," cost him scholarly employment. In 1945, when Ballenstedt was occupied by Russian troops, Voge's small three-room dwelling had to accommodate ten people. The publication of the Syrlin monograph in Berlin, shortly before Voge's death (in Ballenstedt in 1952), may have been one of the few consola¬ tions of his final years. In 1958 the republication of Voge's Bildhauer des Mittelalters sparked interest in his other works. Panofsky boldly credited Die Anfdnge des monumentalen Stils im Mittelalter as being one of the finest books in the German language, and Martin Gosebruch placed Voge's work beside "the highest achievements of modem art." Whatever the merits of these claims, Voge certainly deserves full republication and translation. The 1860s had given birth to a generation of remarkably creative art historians who would decisively shape the course of their profession for well into the next century: Wolfflin and Goldschmidt, Voge and Warburg, Berenson, Dodgson, Fry, Male, and Hofstede de Groot. They advanced a tradition that paralleled that of Klimt, Kandinsky, Mondrian, Brancusi, and Frank Lloyd Wright.



A QUEST FOR THE ELEMENTAL s art drastically changed at the start of the twentieth century, so did the demands placed on art historians: the new art was going in search of its past. "A curious and rather exciting turnabout took place," wrote the historian Felix Alexander Dargel, "whereby creators suddenly called upon scholars to testify to the total naturalness of an unnaturalistic art."1 Johannes Jahn elaborates: It was the advent of Expressionism. Young artists were struggling with all their might to pull themselves out of a stultifying bog of traditions; their souls were yearning for the primitive, and so they found the primitive. Art history followed suit, if albeit only a few historians explored primitive art. But precisely because we had forged a vital link between Expressionism and the primitive, there was a danger of viewing it too expressionistically, with all-too-Western eyes. Primitivism and Expressionism are by no means identical, but it was easy to overlook that in our first enthusiasm; the interpretations of Worringer and [Carl] Einstein, for instance, were first attempts on the part of a quite Western Expres¬ sionism to get a second glimpse into an exotic world.... The turn of the century's new regard for African sculpture, and for Japanese, Chinese, and pre-Columbian art, and its ethnological interests were inspired to a large extent by contemporary artists: by Gauguin, Toorop, Picasso, Derain, Vlaminck, Kirchner, Heckel, and Schmidt-Rottluff; by figures as disparate as Frank Lloyd Wright and Gustav Klimt. Gauguin's voyage to Tahiti, beyond its elemental fusion of life and art, brought him a new historical perspective: "Bear in mind the Persians, the natives of Cambodia, and even the Egyptians, and you will soon see that Greek art, for all its beauty, is the great error." It was a point that would be expanded upon by authors such as Guillaume Apollinaire, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, Theodor Daubler, Eckart von Sydow, Franz Kafka, and Carl Einstein. Wilhelm Uhde (1874-1947) broadened the horizon by evaluating the painting of amateurs as art. He discovered Rousseau, Vivin, and Seraphine for art history. He was also one of the first critics to appreciate Picasso's Demoiselles dAvignon, which he saw in 1907, the year it was painted. Hans Prinzhom (1886-1933) further extended the range of what was considered interesting art by examining the works of mental patients in 1922 and of prisoners in 1926. The present itself was considered and sometimes used as a weapon against the past — a trend that Karl Scheffler tried to discourage by pointing out: "It must not be forgotten that art history, whether it views art historically, formalistically, or psychologically, still only states the case. It can only enter into the production of art empirically, viewing it from a



Art History of Expressionism

certain distance. So it can hardly have a will of its own, a programmatic intent; as a type of 'natural history' it first stifles all personal affections or antipathies for the object in ques¬ tion." Scheffler further appealed to the words of his mentor Wilhelm Wundt: "Prognosis is not a task for art historians, nor prescription, nor any form of partisanship." Not that these warnings had great effect. The programmatic claim at the start of Oswald Spengler's Untergang des Abendlandes served as a dominant inspiration for fervent side¬ taking: "The present book represents a first bold attempt to predict history." Art history of the Expressionist era, with its roots in Riegl, Dvorak, Voge, and Croce, and culminating in Worringer, Burger, Heidrich, and Rintelen, was a fascinating, often too seductive, phase in art history. The later works of someone like Wilhelm Pinder testify to its many pitfalls. The limits of this brief and often very instructive period are perhaps best summed up by the slogan that was used above all by Dvorak in his posthumous work: "Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte," art history as the history of ideas. Sedlmayr, whose later writings fully reflect the dangers of Expressionist aspirations — he wanted to compare art with the truth of revelation — wrote as late as 1949: "This motto, though it stated an authentic need, has still been acted upon only imperfectly or falsely." Not that narrow Ex¬ pressionist doctrine could fulfill such high ambitions. It would take a newer and different conception, such as the iconology of Warburg and Panofsky, to overcome its limitations.

THE EL GRECO REVIVAL In an article "Das Barock Grecos" that appeared in 1912 in the periodical Kunst und Kiinstler, Julius Meier-Graefe asserted: "El Greco has become a test case for the value of present-day art history." El Greco, in fact, at the time of his rediscovery and reacceptance was being shunted from one stylistic category to another: he was labeled everything from Gothic to Renaissance, Mannerist, and Baroque, and even called Classical, Impressionist, and Expres¬ sionist. A report by Halldor Soehner on the state of El Greco research concluded: "It offers a classic instance of the constant danger in art history of debasing and making nonsense of its concepts of style."2 The artist had long ago faded into obscurity; Julius Meier-Graefe was right to claim that appreciation for El Greco came later than for Manet. El Greco was revived chiefly by artists, whose own innovations enabled them to rethink the art of the past. Delacroix was the first of them — he may even have owned a painting by El Greco. After a trip to Spain in 1865 Manet encouraged the dealer Theodore Duret to buy several too. The El Greco that Millet owned is said to have become Degas's property after the artist's death. Zacharias Astruc likewise brought several El Grecos into France. Artists in this era championed unknown works and those painters who were scorned or neglected. When the Spanish art historian Manuel Cossio (1858-1935) gave his first interpretation of the painter he had rediscovered, his work was simply ridiculed as "unscientific" and as "unworthy of the profession." As late as 1881, F. de Madrazo, the director of the Prado, dismissed El Greco's works as absurd caricatures. Fortunately Cossio persisted in his work and showed that the painter deserved to be ranked among Spanish artists such as Ribera, Zurbaran, Velazquez, and Murillo. The great El Greco show that the Prado mounted in 1902 finally gave him a much wider public recognition. Research on the painter began with Cossio's two-volume study which appeared in Madrid in 1908. In it Cossio distinguished five stylistic phases, two Italian and three Spanish. The



Art History of Expressionism

book included a very carefully prepared catalogue of his works and collected documents. The paucity of facts about the artist's life explains why Cossio titled his first chapter "What No One Knows About El Greco's Life." It was only later, from about 1910 to 1927, that the scholar San Roman turned up further information, the most important being the inven¬ tory of 265 pictures, dated August 7, 1621, compiled by the artist's son. Partisans of contemporary art — Modesto Lafuente, for example — applauded Cossio's book. In a review of it Julius Meier-Graefe commented: Here is something curious: in the midst of debate over Impressionism and all that has come in its wake, over Cezanne and Renoir, over Marees and van Gogh, suddenly out of oblivion steps a certain pupil of Titian, offered up to critics and public alike as though he were a newcomer just starting out. To be sure he shows traces of his origins in the greatest age known to painting, but at the same time he reveals other remarkable traits we had hitherto thought unique to the art of our time. But these confirm something many friends of modem art had also long suspected: that everything valuable being done today has its antecedents, relates to a set of prior existing values. Such traits, one might think, should do much to bridge the contradictions between reigning opinions; strangely enough, they have the opposite effect. El Greco's works drew the ridicule and insults usually reserved for contemporary art¬ ists. Medical examiners were asked to decide if the artist's distortions of figures reflected actual physical defects in his subjects, or his own insanity. One of these inquisitors believed him to have been a hashish smoker; another identified his models as the mad population of Toledo. In 1912 the French author Maurice Barres championed the painter in a work entitled Le Greco ou le secret de Toledo. Still, most critics sided with the negative judgment Carl Justi had cast on the artist in his Diego Velazquez und sein Jahrhundert — Justi, Bode, and countless other art historians of the time were appalled by the strange proportions of El Greco's figures and were unable to feel the expressive force behind them. For decades Justi's verdict would hold that El Greco's ...amorphous painting can only be considered as a reflection and an epitome of painterly degeneracy. His brush strokes obey the logic of some bad dream; the revelation he would propose is nothing but the twisted incubus that lodges in a fevered brain. His burning fingers create figures twelve heads tall that might be made of rubber, dangling, unmodeled, uncountered, hacked, and slashed into being to float on a surface in a strange symmetry, colored ice-blue and sulphur, flailing on the canvas against assaults of white and deep purple. The sort of optic dysfunction we know afflicted Turner in his old age is likely here; as psychological causes we can easily suppose a desperate drive for originality, delusions of grandeur, the pretensions of a would-be virtuoso, sporadic poverty and illness, and the burden of being foreign. These conditions, common enough in artists' careers, found a peculiarly rich breeding ground in the neuropathic El Greco. The fateful label of "degeneracy" linked Justi's contempt for El Greco with that of modem art as such: he thought both were detestable. By calling El Greco "a prophet of modernity" Justi was not praising him, but rather consigning him to psychiatrists and opthalmologists.



Art History of Expressionism

Justi's attitudes are still quite discernible in the following passage from Adolf Rosenberg's Handbuch der Kunstgeschichte, a publication from 1924 in which El Greco is directly linked to Expressionist art: "His vital appeal to modem taste lies in his impassioned personality and in the jarring harmonies of his colors, a highly original palette of brownish reds, golden ochers, madder, white, and black. A decisive influence on Cezanne, he may be considered the spiritual father also of modem Expressionism — or perhaps its saddest precursor. What separates him from his late enthusiasts, in any case, is his visionary expression, his genuine religiosity. What was purest in him reduces in modem painting to mere pose and deceit." In the second volume of his history of art, however, Richard Muther placed El Greco at the forefront of great Spanish painting, describing him as "the most Spanish of all Spanish painters, an artist altogether loyal to his native artistic principles." Yet Muther's imagination was no less swept up in the artist's "beautiful Jewesses, autos-da-fe, blood-thirsty archbishops and battling Moors, the Cid and Falstaff's Toledan swordsmanship, torture and Inquisi¬ tion!" With evidently sincere regret he noticed in regard to El Greco's portraits: "Women do not appear. Just once he painted a female figure, his daughter. Otherwise, we see only a succession of prelates, priests, and monks." Yet the attention to content did not distract Muther entirely from the master's formal and stylistic anticipation of modern painters, par¬ ticularly van Gogh. In his book Der Geist der Gotik Karl Scheffler placed El Greco within a tradition that included Griinewald, Gothic cathedrals, the mosaics of Ravenna, and monuments of In¬ dian architecture. Hermann Bahr's study Expressionismus (1920), on the other hand, associated him with Botticelli and ranked him with the great masters, naming him in one breath with Raphael, Michelangelo, Velazquez, Rubens, and van Dyck, and elsewhere with Diirer, Cezanne, Griinewald, and Rembrandt. From this it can be seen what excitement El Greco's name evoked within the Expressionist era. Dvorak's method of Geistesgeschichte in his work on El Greco and Mannerism gave the artist a more stable stylistic niche, soon reinforced by August L. Mayer's book on Spanish painting and by Hugo Kehrer's publication Greco als Gestalt des Manierismus of 1939. Gotthard Jedlicka similarly assigned his work to Late Mannerism, while most British historians held to Meier-Graefe's notion of him as a Baroque painter. Horst W. Janson, in his History of Art, points out that El Greco's fame was never greater than it is today; yet the waning of Expressionism since Janson's publication also suggests how retractable critical fortune can be, like that of other painters rediscovered in the early decades of the century: Griinewald, Bruegel, Magnasco, and Bellange.



Wilhelm Worringer (1881-1965) was bom in the generation that would mature in the founding years of Expressionism.3 As an art-history student in Munich he was chiefly influenced by Theodor Lipps and Georg Simmel. The dissertation that he finished under Heinrich Wolfflin in 1907, "Abstraktion und Einfiihlung," made an impact rare at any stage of scholarly pro¬ duction. By the time it appeared as a book its subtitle, Ein Beitrag zur Stilpsychologie, in¬ dicated Worringer's awareness that he had taken a new direction in the way that art was conceived. In the preface he tells how, in posing a problem and attempting to solve it, he has "met the premise of many" who like him "saw through the one-sidedness and the classic European bias of our usual historical conception and evaluation of art."



Art History of Expressionism

Worringer also promptly recognized the relation of his work to contemporary art: “Re¬ cent developments in art make it very plain to me that my problem bears not only upon the art historians who survey and evaluate the past but also on the new expressive goals of present-day artists." Bernard F. Myers, in his book Die Malerei des Expressionismus: eine Generation im Aufbruch, wrote, in 1957: "Worringer held to a subjective view of art founded on intuition. In this he was greatly assisted by a book that had met with great acclaim on its publication in Germany in 1907 and, like Worringer's own, had done much to create an Expressionist ideology: Henri Bergson's Creative Evolution." The dissertation, then, was truly a "revaluation of all values." Much in keeping with artistic and aesthetic concerns of the era, it laid a theoretical foundation for the shift from sensualism to abstraction. Its chief debt in this was to Alois Riegl, as Worringer stated: "At many points my work has been inspired by that of Alois Riegl, particularly the Stilfragen (1893) and Spdtrdmische Kunstindustrie (1901). Though not mandatory, an acquaintance with this work is highly recommended as background to my own. Though I do not agree point for point with Riegl, the method of his inquiry has been germane and extremely stimulating." Without excluding art of the past, Worringer drew new relevance for contemporary art from Riegl's concept of Kunstwollen. He wrote: "The stylistic characteristics or peculiarities of past ages are not due to defective talents, only to a different set of aspirations than our own." Like Fritz Burger, Worringer saw in the art of Ferdinand Hodler a continuation of tradition and regretted the helplessness of the public and the art historians who because of their insufficient tools could not do justice to these new forms of expression. Worringer, on the other hand, understood the continuity that ran between "primitive" civilization and the artistic forms of "high" culture. He understood, for example, that abstract art in principle is art of the masses — as well as that modem man lived bereft of a true sense of "world." Or, as Worringer quoted from Schopenhauer, modem man, like his primitive counterpart, realized "that the visible world in which we had been placed is the work of the Maya, a conjur¬ ing act, an inessential figment of no duration, like a dream or a mirage; a veil about human consciousness, something about which it would be at once true and false to say that it is and yet is not." Worringer's appendix to Abstraktion und Einfiihlung, "Von Transzendenz und Immanenz in der Kunst," examined the con¬ flict between aesthetics and art history: "For the present, and for the future, objective art history and aesthetics are incompatible fields. Faced with either discarding the bulk of one's findings to suit an aesthetic demand or renouncing aesthetic thinking as ex¬ pendable fancy, the art historian generally chooses the latter path, sundering two disciplines that should be closely communicating. Maybe some superstition surrounding the word art is the source of all this trouble. In any case that superstition, in positively criminal fashion, reduces manifold appearance to an unequivocal concept." Worringer's invective echoed the protest of theorists like Robert Vischer and Fiedler against the relatively petty "drudgery" art historians, in their opinions, chose for themselves.

Wilhelm Worringer



Art History of Expressionism

ARTHUR KINGSLEY PORTER Wilhelm Worringer's investigations of Gothic style and of abstraction fell well within general interests of the period.4 In the heyday of Expressionist art the stylistic canon was eventually expanded to include Romanesque art, largely thanks to the work of the American art historian Arthur Kingsley Porter (1883-1933).5 Porter's development might alert us here, inciden¬ tally, to art scholarship underway in North America well before the tide of refugee art historians; colleagues of his included Paul J. Sachs, Charles Rufus Morey, Frank Jewett Mather, Allan Marquand, and Howard C. Butler.6 Porter graduated from Yale University intending to go into law, but while on a world tour that he took with his brother right after graduation, he suddenly interrupted his stay in Europe in order to return to New York to study architecture. Porter nonetheless found himself being increasingly drawn toward art history. At twenty-five he wrote a book on medieval architecture, chiefly European, and was led to a fresh discovery of the Romanesque style in Lombardy. In 1915 he was made a professor at Yale, and soon after, during the war, he was hired by the French government as a director of art and architectural preserva¬ tion. In 1920 he became a professor at Harvard. After eight years of preparation, Porter's ten-volume Romanesque Sculpture of the Pilgrimage Roads was published in 1923 and became the classic work in a field Porter himself created, namely art geography. Unfortunately Porter's next great project, on Byzantine art, was aborted when trunks containing all his notes and photographs disappeared. Kingsley Porter, free of the sense of national restriction that was very common in Europe, ably syn¬ thesized diverse eras. In the case of the medieval art of Europe he linked disparate trends geographically, by routes of pilgrimage. In 1918 Porter wrote on Giotto and the art of his time. In 1920 his book Beyond Ar¬ chitecture condemned Roman architecture — indeed all Roman art — as false and derivative. This controversial and highly idiosyncratic stance suggested an unabashedly subjective spirit, as do Porter's dramatic writings, such as the plays The Seven Who Slept of 1919 and The Virgin and the Clerk of 1929, and his highly original survey of Irish civilization. The Crosses and Culture of Ireland (1931). Borders were irrelevant to Porter. The Romanesque civilization of Europe formed an indissoluble whole for him, divergent though he knew it was. Shortly before his death he bought the estate of Glenveagh Castle in Ireland, and there, like some ancient ocean-crossing seafarer, he built a fishing cabin on an island facing the mainland. It was there, in Inish Bofin, that he drowned at the age of fifty.7

FRITZ BURGER Like his friend Franz Marc, and like Wassily Kandinsky, the art historian Fritz Burger (1877-1916) exalted subjective response to art and made it the means of reevaluating all art of the past and present.8 As A.E. Brinckmann observed in the afterword to Burger's Einfuhrung in die modeme Kunst: "All that has been created I have created as the expression of my spirit_" At the same time Brinckmann had the following criticism: "He was not a historian who objectivized; he forcefully subjectivized his history writing. He created the type of the scientific Expressionist without suspecting that in this title the adjective is being eaten away by the noun, that personal intuition very often tears out the most secret nerves



Art History of Expressionism

of the historical material." Brinckmann treated the book less as a standard guide to modern art than as the diary of one man's experience of it. Burger's earliest training was as a painter, architect, and sculptor, and only later did he study art history and classical history. A piece he published in 1901, Gedanken uber die Darmstadter Kunst, shows that he already understood the revolutionary character of Jugendstil architecture; the ideas he broached here were to be carried out only two decades later, at the Bauhaus in Weimar. In 1901, while an architecture student. Burger was given a gold medal by the University of Heidelberg for an essay on Horentine funeral sculpture, published three years later in Strasbourg as Geschichte des florentinischen Grabmals von den altesten Zeiten bis Michel¬ angelo. In 1903 he graduated from Heidelberg summa cum laude, though, never having completed his qualifying exam, he was required to pass the test as a formality. After a long period of travel through Europe, he qualified as a university lecturer in 1906, at the Univer¬ sity of Munich; the qualification essay, "Vitruv und die Renaissance," appeared in the same year, followed in 1907 by two books, Studien zu Michelangelo and Francesco Laurana, and in 1909 by a study of Palladio's villas, Ueber die Villen des Andrea Palladio. From 1908 to 1912 Burger lectured on Northern European, chiefly German, art. He published a book on the Schack Gallery in 1912; and in 1913 his volume Die deutsche Malerei vom ausgehenden Mittelalter bis zum Ende der Renaissance appeared as part of a series he himself had organized and edited, the Handbuch der Kunstwissenschaft. This thirty-two volume series, which A.E. Brinckmann continued after Burger's death, is still basic today. It fully attests to Burger's accomplishment as a serious scholar. If nothing else, it is a model of organization and collaborative effort, although it falls short of Burger's original aims in the scant space it gives to Asian civilization, as well as to questions of art technique, education, criticism, collecting, and exhibiting.


XVIII Art History of Expressionism

While Burger's work on art of the past was extraordinary, he was also an energetic champion of his contemporaries, as his lectures on modern art in 1912 showed. It was highly apt for him to have two teaching posts in Munich, one at the University, one at the Academy of Fine Arts. In 1912 he devised an excellent practical training course for artists and art historians alike; it grew into his "Systematik der Kunstwissenschaft," a work that never saw publication. Also in 1912 Burger further explored the polarities of modem art in a book entitled Cezanne und Hodler. In the preface Burger claimed to have been always guided by the notion "...that art historians must not only use their historical knowledge to evaluate the present but also use their knowledge of contemporary art to judge the past." Here Burger voiced his objections to Impressionist art and Impressionist art history: "Art after the so-called Im¬ pressionist movement has taken a surprisingly different turn; our one-time dedication to natural science has given way to the rival forces of mysticism." Contemporaries were often highly critical of Burger's enterprise. Robert Hedicke, in his very useful Methodenlehre der Kunstgeschichte, observed: "The artist in Burger seems quite readily to have won out over the art historian. As Burger evolves into an Expressionist artist (he even paints expressionistically) and a wholly contemporary man, he begins to interpret the history of art only from the subjective outlook of present conflicts. Historians, artists, and private journalists part company here. Burger's writing abandons professional criteria; the art historian in him loses hold of his own work." In the preface to Cezanne und Hodler, however. Burger posited a new kind of art history: All of us have historical, not artistic, educations; but it is absurd to imagine that knowing art history and understanding the process of art are automatically related. Historians are usually content to record and classify works, artists, eras, styles, to base value judgments on historical relations that have little or nothing to do with the works of art themselves. Yet this classification, important as it also is, strangely enough passes for a rigorous and objective view of art; book learning is exchanged for practical experience. We demand "historical justness," forgetting that we are judging without a valid set of laws. It is this self-deception on the part of art history that must be unmasked today. Burger wanted to grasp both the specifically artistic features of a work as well as its place in historical evolution. In the grand tradition of Kantian philosophy and of Fiedler, he thought and judged in accordance with the conditions of his own time. In an address to German youth given on the Hohen Meissner in 1913 Burger spoke of spiritual ferment and renewal in German art. During the time he had a chair in Basel shortly before his con¬ scription into the army, Burger concentrated more on paintings. While on the front he wrote an introduction to a global, morphological study of civilization. He died near Verdun on May 22, 1916. What strikes one in Burger's self-portraits is the man's energy and activity. As a painter he was markedly influenced by Hodler, Munch, and Nolde. It would be wrong to treat him as an autodidact who had simply overstepped the bounds of art history. The range of activity, while deeply part of Burger's nature, was also symptomatic of the age. As knowledge of the history of art became an all-embracing problem for him, the ways of understanding it had to be no less so. In an obituary for Burger, Oskar Lang remarked: "Possibly no one else in the field of art history has laid so much emphasis on art as well as history in his work — something



Art History of Expressionism

that cost him the respect of many practicing historians but endeared him to equally as many artists. Lang gave a charming description of Burger ".. .blossoming before a work of art, ignited by its glow and etherealized by his rapture before it. Yet then, as suddenly, his ecstasy would cease as he launched into the sharpest and most thorough deductions and formal analyses." Burger initiated his contemporaries into many hitherto unexplored areas of the Italian Renaissance. Like the most advanced artists of his day, his artistic interests were global; had he lived longer, he would no doubt have further integrated knowledge of the art of Africa, Asia, and pre-Columbian America.

HEIDRICH AND RINTELEN Ernst Heidrich (1881-1915) studied under Wolfflin, completed his doctorate with him in 1905, and through him, qualified as a university lecturer in 1909.9 A year after receiving a professorship in Strasbourg in 1914, he was killed in military action. There was a tragic coincidence — as Heidrich's friend Friedrich Rintelen remarked in an obituary — in the early death of this expert in Hemish art in combat on Flemish soil. In the introduction to Heidrich's Vlamische Malerei (1913), Robert Hedicke termed the work the first full-fledged instance of Geistesgeschichte in the discipline. Heidrich's inaugural lecture in Strasbourg, "Die Anfange der neueren Kunstgeschichtsschreibung," was a preliminary version of the posthumous book Beitrdge zur Geschichte und Methode der Kunstgeschichte (1917). Even decades later Hans Sedlmayr, in his Wissenschaft der Kunstgeschichte historisch betrachtet, borrowed extensively from Heidrich, whom he considered a master of forceful, concise prose. Heidrich, to say the least, had a high regard for his field — he spoke of it as the highest of existing humanistic studies. His combination of the history of art history and reflections on method makes his work a kind of sequel to the fundamental historical accounts of Julius von Schlosser. In his Beitrge zur Geschichte... Heidrich clearly recognized that art historiography customarily seized on aspects of the past that served the demands of the present. For ex¬ ample, he wrote of Renaissance art-history writing: "Nothing could be easier for modern historiography than to ridicule Renaissance forebears for their total lack of system and method, for their lack of scruples and all their vainglory. But despite all that, what marvelous ease they had in description, what rich lives they led, what a direct and forthright approach they had to artistic questions, to say nothing of delight in people and objects!" Though not usually associated with Expressionism, Friedrich Rintelen (1881-1926) should, chiefly on the basis of his Giotto scholarship, also be considered an Expressionist historian.10 In the foreword to his book Giotto und die Giotto-Apokryphen (1912), Rintelen stated that he had no intention of using crude concepts of historical development but of "illuminating the artist's work, its particularity and significance, from certain essential points of view." Thus it was crucial to Rintelen to find adequate language to convey the unique character of Giotto's painting — more crucial, that is, to evoke its essential aspects than to treat his oeuvre comprehensively. For Martin Gosebruch, author of a history of Giotto interpretation, Rintelen's effort was well repaid. "Rintelen managed to convey the 'texture,' the 'feel' of Giotto's paintings. In this, we recognize a true contemporary of Cubism precisely at its most abstract phase



Art History of Expressionism

in 1911, the year, incidentally, Kandinsky wrote his manifesto Ueber das Geistige in der Kunst. In all we note an intense effort to get at the essential." Clearly, then, the mental structures of Expressionist art history resemble those of Ex¬ pressionist art itself. Rintelen's contrastive method was at one with the primary colors of his contemporaries, the stark blacks and whites of the graphic artists. As in Giotto too, gradations, transitions, nuances would have to wait. A student of philosophy, Rintelen moved into art history in 1903. From 1904 to 1906 he worked as an intern at the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florence, and in 1907 did the same at the art museum in Poznan. He qualified as a university lecturer in Berlin in 1909 and was awarded a teaching post in Basel in 1914. In 1925 he was made administrator of that city's municipal art gallery. He was an able, fascinating, meticulous teacher. His student Werner Hager wrote: "His lectures were a blend of finely nuanced perceptions, abundant insights, and absolutely con¬ trolled language; he knew how to wring the subtlest sense from words and was perhaps most brilliant when discussing periods of highest artistic achievement. He did not offer a balanced survey of many different areas, only the art that most appealed to him." Theodor Hetzer, another of Rintelen's students, and one who went on to share his teacher's partiality, remarked of Rintelen's analogies between Giotto and contemporary art:" Legitimate' art historians laugh down Rintelen's 'callow' comparisons between Giotto and Cezanne. Yet such comparison is certainly justified, and I can only think that, in the Elysian fields both artists undoubtedly inhabit, they get along quite well together."


Hans Jantzen (1881-1967), another member of the Expressionist generation, studied with Wolfflin and Goldschmidt and became an expert in medieval art. He was made a professor of art history at Freiburg in 1916, succeeding Wilhelm Voge. From 1931 to 1935 he taught at the University of Frankfurt am Main; from 1935 to 1951 he was Wilhelm Pinder's suc¬ cessor at the University of Munich. After initial work on Dutch architectural paintings, which was criticized in a well-known review by Ernst Heidrich, Jantzen published a series of books on medieval art: Deutsche Bildhauer des 13. Jahrhunderts (1925), Ueber den gotischen Kirchenraum (from a lecture of 1927), Ottonische Kunst (1947), and Kunst der Gotik (1957). In the book on space in Gothic churches, Jantzen developed concepts such as "diaphanous structure of walls," well aware of what Romantic predecessors had perceived: that far more than merely formal experiences Gothic cathedrals were an encompassing, complex reality. His essay closes with the words: "The Christian Middle Ages made this space an entirely new symbolic form for its worship, with its roots in a piety we no longer know. An attempt, however, to construe the prin¬ ciple of the 'diaphanous' from the core of cultic experience must carry the heading: space as symbol of something existing apart from space." Jantzen also did pioneering research on the role of color in art. The distinction he first drew in 1913 between "instrinsic value" and "representational value" brought Hans Jantzen


new conceptual sophistication to a neglected and essential aspect of art. It is significant that such a discovery coincided with the start of abstract painting.

XVIII Art History of Expressionism

In a lecture given in Hamburg in 1950 "Tradition und Stil in der abendlandischen Kunst," Jantzen deliberately sought general terms with which to assess the whole of European art. Of the meaning and effect of tradition, he remarked: Poussin is unthinkable without Raphael, Raphael unthinkable without Masaccio, Masaccio unthinkable without Giotto, and Giotto unthinkable without French Gothic art. Thirteenth-century imagery presupposes knowledge of classical anti¬ quity, Ottoman art makes extensive use of Byzantine and early Christian art work. And since Carolingian art brought the West its richest store of late classical and early Christian Mediterranean culture, we do not even have to turn to the various "classicisms" to find all of postclassical art deriving from a single tradition, regardless of what anyone may say of "autonomous creation of styles."

THE GENERATIONAL ISSUE Two more art historians, Wilhelm Pinder (1878-1947)11 and A.E. Brinckmann (1881-1958), deserve mention as Expressionists, not only because they sought in the art of past eras forms comparable to those in the art of their own day, but also because they framed a new problem, that of the generations. The problem of generations had interested Pinder even before 1900 and became the subject of definitive treatment in his book published in 1926, Das Problem der Generation in der Kunstgeschichte Europas. Pinder's other writings, meanwhile, were devoted to medieval architecture, late medieval sculpture. Baroque art, and works whose spiritual content could be derived from extrapictorial sources. From Pinder's theoretical scaffolding A.E. Brinckmann developed some ideas about the late style of great masters, also continuing work Richard Hamann had done concerning the Impressionists. Brinckmann eventually earned an international and interdisciplinary reputation through his studies on the Baroque and through his books Platz und Monument (1908) and Deutsche Stadtbaukunst in der Vergangenheit (1911). Intergenerational conflict was of course a dominant theme in the literature of the time, particularly in the drama of the German Expressionists, for instance Walter Hasenclever's Der Sohn, first per¬ formed in Dresden in 1916. Just as this drama made an appeal for transformation, Pinder sought to express historical evolution as a multidimensional reality. As Pinder wrote of art-historical "ages": "They are multidimen¬ sional — Zeitraume — spaces of time! They come from the crossover of many diverse and heterogeneous generational entelechies, deter¬ mined also by so-called styles, by the cultural age of the nations and groups involved, by the caliber of artists themselves — from all the factors named above." Art was very much a part of Pinder's background: his father was a museum director, his grandfather was a classical scholar. His ancestors included the painter Friedrich August Tischbein.12 Yet along with many other colleagues, Pinder had gone the familiar route from law to classics to art history. He finished his studies under August Schmarsow, was made an instructor at the Technische Hochschule

Wilhelm Pinder



Art History of Expressionism

in Darmstadt in 1911, and later held teaching posts in Breslau, Leipzig, Munich, and Berlin. In his effort to work within a wider historical context than he had had in his formal training, he pondered the difference between European and Asian artistic production, which he decided rested on the urge to self-transformation: "For us Europeans change is a value unto itself." Pinder's reflections involved an entirely new vocabulary, one of generational rhythms, entelechies, intervals, deceleration and acceleration of rhythmic tempos, development in art, and the fluctuating supremacy of specific genres at particular times. He viewed historical development as a multidimensional phenomenon concerned with process, accommodating also the subjective conceptions of the art historian. The system Pinder that sketched for the development of Western art is one of the highest achievements of the Expressionist era. One great merit is the room it left for intuition. For example, Pinder's own conjectural com¬ pletion of the fragmentary Nordlinger Altar came uncannily close to the real thing when its missing portions were finally discovered. Hans Sedlmayr singled out Pinder's power of evocation: "There are interpreters — Pinder being probably the greatest living master — who have the ability to make their readers see and experience works of art." Pinder's specialization in German art assured him favor after 1933. But the emphasis on the psychic qualities of an artist like Michael Pacher, for instance, soon evolved into a sort of ideological mayhem that had little or nothing to do with understanding art. When Pinder contributed to the essay collection Deutsche Wissenschaft, Arbeit und Aufgabe, which was published in Leipzig in 1939, he did not, as A. Stange did, declare himself unreservedly National Socialist. All the same Pinder did refer to "the heritage of German blood and German history" and bemoaned the plight of Germany before 1933; and in 1938 in the Festschrift prepared for his sixtieth birthday he received the congratulations of Hitler through Hans Sedlmayr. Pinder thus became involved in the pseudoscientific jargon of the era.

REALIGNMENTS Dictatorships bred immigrant art historians even before the Third Reich. Gottfried Kinkel, we have seen, fled to England; Eduard Kolloff to France; and the Austro-Hungarian govern¬ ment persecuted Morelli and Cavalcaselle. The Nazi takeover of Germany in 1933 had dire consequences for art history. For many leading art historians it spelled the end of all free inquiry; cultural and political manipulation was now masked as invigorating renewal. Art history in Germany to this day has scarcely been able to recover from the ravages of Fascist policy. To comprehend the extent of the losses one need only cite some of the scholars forced to leave Germany and Austria after 1933: Erwin Panofsky, Rudolf Wittkower, Charles de Tolnay, Hans Tietze, Erica Tietze-Conrat, Richard Krautheimer, Kurt Badt, Walter Friedlander, Alfred Neumeyer, August L. Mayer, Ernst Kris, Emil Kaufmann, Alexander Dorner, Justus Bier, Nikolaus Pevsner, W.R. Valentiner, Heinrich Schwarz, William S. Heckscher, Paul Zucker, Fritz Saxl, Gisela Marie Augusta Richter, Margarete Bieber, W.E. Suida, Edgar Wind, Rudolf Amheim, E.H. Gombrich, Leopold Ettlinger, Paul Frankl, Lotte Brand Philip, Kurt Weitzmann, and Wolfgang Stechow. Most, of course, found refuge in England and the United States, and only a few returned to Germany after the war. They did much to make the Anglo-Saxon world the center of art research that it is today. Vast shifts of emphasis were bound to take place.





hile Expressionism's reading of the past through the present led to an impasse of excessive subjectivity, iconology, which was developing around the same time, proved to have greater longevity. There were precedents for it, as we have seen, in Emile Male and in Jakob Burckhardt as well as in Alois Riegl and Max Dvorak, who in addition had set precedents for Expressionism. But the field of iconology had the added stimulus of the philosopher Ernst Cassirer's theory of symbolic forms, and of the psychoanalytic theories of Freud, Jung, and their disciples. Aby Warburg (1866-1929) was the real liberator of iconology from the narrow con¬ fines of art history, so much so that for a time iconology was simply referred to as "the Warburgian method."1 Warburg himself once remarked to his friend Gustav Pauli that he felt his real mission was to equip others with the tools for close analysis. But Warburg's immediate task was to counter the limitations of formalism, necessary as he knew such an approach was, by including new areas that would bring the study of art closer to reality. His ideal, then, was to bring together separate disciplines to form a comprehensive science of culture. He first gave this method, which would be based on iconographic study, the name of iconology, in an essay of 1912. Warburg came from a wealthy family, and it was assumed he would one day take over his father's bank. Instead he traded his birthright, in essence, with his younger brother for the promise of unlimited funds for whatever books his future scholarship would require. It seemed a fanciful enough request at first; but at its founder's death, the Warburg Library had grown to 65,000 volumes. Lessing was Warburg's introduction to art study, Justi and Janitschek were among his first teachers, but it was August Schmarsow and Jakob Burckhardt who most influenced him. After his formal studies Warburg spent half a year in Florence, chiefly working on Botticelli. During a stay in North America he visited the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico, whose rituals greatly interested him. For several days Warburg observed their cult dance, a seminal experience for a scholar already interested in the relation between art and religion. After marrying the sculptress Mary Hertz, Warburg spent the next decade in Florence, chiefly studying the art of the first half of the fifteenth century. He did not confine his in¬ vestigations to official art literature, and a great mine of information started to emerge from such extra-artistic areas as astrology, magic practice, costume and ceremonial history, the accounts of festivals and pageants, even business correspondence and contracts. Prosaic business contracts, for instance, revealed to him that representatives of the Medici in Bruges had purchased Flemish tapestries depicting scenes from ancient history. The repertory of gestures that these scenes contained had obviously made their way into Florentine art; it


XIX The Founding of Iconology

was the beginning of Warburg's study of what he would term Pathosformel, the pathos formula. More and more the survival of classical antiquity in the early Italian Renaissance was Warburg's chief area of research. As Cassirer observed: "Where others had seen only sharply delineated, self-contained forms, he saw moving forces and what he would go on to call the great Pathosformel, antiquity's permanent legacy to humanity." Quite in opposition to Winckelmann's image of "calm grandeur," Warburg viewed antiquity as an active and volatile source for all of Western civilization, a demonic and, however invisibly so, influential agent in all our lives. Warburg's first publication came in 1893, Sandro Botticellis "Geburt der Venus" und "Primavera." As the subtitle — Eine Untersuchung iiber die Vorstellungen von der Antike in der italienischen Fruhrenaissance — states, it was a study of classical ideas in the art of the early Renaissance. It is interesting to note that this first effort won great support from the elderly Herman Grimm.

THE LIBRARY IN HAMBURG After his return from Italy in 1901 Warburg began building up his library. He gathered whatever materials he could on fifteenth-century Horence and pagan survivals in its art. He inscribed the word Mnemosyne on the entrance to his house in Hamburg. He worked to incorporate poetry, philology, ethnology, and all other relevant branches of knowledge into his research. By the 1920s his interests had branched out to include unlikely subjects such as aeronautics.


XIX The Founding of Iconology

which, to the puzzlement of his colleagues, was given its place in the library, soon to be followed by timetables, atlases, addresses, and telephone books. Fritz Saxl once accurately described the library and the intentions of Aby Warburg: "The study of philosophy was for Warburg inseparable from that of the so-called primitive mind: neither could be isolated from the study of imagery in religion, literature, and art. These ideas had found expression in the unorthodox arrangement of the books on the shelves." It would have been easy at first to dismiss this library as the whim of a well-to-do art historian — but not for long. The growing ranks of distinguished scholars connected with it made that impossible. Wilhelm Prinz, the first to be taken on there, was an expert in Oriental languages. Wilhelm Waetzoldt (1880-1945) arrived in 1910 and next came Fritz Saxl; the latter would become Warburg's most active colleague and the library's next direc¬ tor, making a crucial contribution to research there during its founder's bout of mental illness. From the outset the library had cordial ties to the University of Hamburg — which War¬ burg had been influential in creating — as well as to Erwin Panofsky and Ernst Cassirer, both of whom eventually became university professors there. Naturally these ties with Ham¬ burg were broken with the advent of National Socialism in 1933, four years after Warburg's death. Saxl began to consider how to save the library from the very imminent threat of book burning, and, when its shipment to America or to institutes in Leiden and Rome proved either too costly or otherwise unfeasible, an offer from the University of London that same year proved irresistible. After much red tape 60,000 books, slides, and furnishings from the library were shipped from Hamburg to London. Its provisional home was to become permanent. Fritz Saxl directed the library until his death in 1948; the eminent Near Eastern specialist Henry Frankfort (1897-1954) became his successor, followed in 1954 by Gertrud Bing (1892-1964), who had worked with War¬ burg since 1922. Ernst H. Gombrich was the head of the Warburg Institute from 1959 to 1976 and in 1970 wrote a biography, a literary monument to Warburg.

WARBURG'S PERSONALITY Aby Warburg was a worldly sort of scholar. As Cassirer said in 1929 in his commemorative address: "Warburg was not a researcher in the sense of standing apart or contemplating life as mirrored in art from some commanding watchtower. He always stood in the midst of the tumult, never sidestepped trouble; he willingly met life's ultimate, tragic problems." In Hamburg, his willing involvement with practical life meant friendship with Gustav Pauli, the director of the city's Kunsthalle, and Fritz Schumacher, its chief city planner. Fur¬ ther, Warburg's interest in philately led him (in vain) to urge Gustav Stresemann to reform German postage stamps. As he had once observed, the figure of Germania on the stamps looked like some got-up scullery maid! And to prove his point Warburg even located the model of Germania, an old housemaid. It is telling, too, that when Hugo Vogel's new frescoes for the great hall of the Hamburg Rathaus were being violently criticized on formal grounds, Warburg took a stand against their forced and affected emotional content. We learn something of Warburg's working method through Carl Georg Heise's remi¬ niscence of a trip to Ferrara with his fellow student Wilhelm Waetzoldt. Much of Warburg's thinking concerning the survival of pagan antiquity in the art of the early Italian Renaissance rested on his study of the frescoes in Ferrara's Palazzo Schifanoia: "Everything was arranged: the special pass for an extended study of the palace, ladders, lamps, rulers, and so on. Warburg


XIX The Founding of Iconology

took to his work like a maniac. Minutely prepared for every detail, he set about examining whether and how his information matched the original works, writing away madly, break¬ ing concentration only when something in the work took him by surprise. To look at him, you would have thought him more a detective than an art lover." As for the demands Warburg made on his work partners, Heise went on to say: I would stand there, bored out of my wits, wander around other rooms in the palace, unimpressed by the frescoes, be bored again. I could not leave, though, being an assistant. So while staring out the window I carelessly leaned against one of the vitrines containing manuscripts with precious miniatures — so carelessly, in fact, I shattered the glass. I have never in my life had such a devastating torrent of abuse heaped on me as Warburg heaped on me then. Chiefly he thundered because of my abuse of hospitality, my ingratitude for an extremely rare privilege I saw fit to repay only with sloppiness and indifference, and because of the harm, rather than help, I was as a result bringing to his work. That was not all, however: What was I doing by the window, anyway, why was I looking there rather than at the art? I had the audacity to reply then that I had seen all I wanted to see of the art and it did not much interest me. That was it for me. "What do I care if these works interest you or not?" he shouted, his face flushed. "They certainly interest me! They interest me enough for this to be my third trip from Hamburg to see them, enough for me to put all my energy into trying to decipher them! I throw myself into this —and you throw yourself against a pane of glass, out of 'boredom,' poor thing, and have the nerve to tell me so, instead of having the sense to realize that something this important to me must be worth understanding, and even if you cannot understand it, trying to do so. And even if you decided to pay attention to it because I am paying so much attention, that should be enough for you!" These words had rung in Heise's ears for more than thirty-five years when he recounted his story in April 1945. Warburg, in fact, made his findings public in 1912, at the International Art Historians' Congress in Rome, with a paper "Italienische Kunst und intemationale Astrologie im Palazzo Schifanoja zu Ferrara." Warburg also had had a hand in organizing and directing this con¬ gress, which was attended by such important scholars as Camille Enlart, Adolfo Venturi, Campbell Dodgson, Comelis Hofstede de Groot, and Andreas Aubert, among others. It was an honor for Warburg to have been asked to chair it, and yet he declined because he believed that in 1912 it was risky for a world organization to be headed by a Jew. Though he did all the preliminary work for the meeting, he had Rudolf Kautzsch preside. Still, Warburg's interests and his personality set the tone for the entire congress, which was to be the last such international gathering for many years to come. The paper on the Palazzo Schifanoia made Warburg, and the new science of iconology he had done so much to advance, famous. The outbreak of World War I had devastating effects on Warburg, however. Typically, at first he absorbed its impact by keeping a dossier on it. But at the end of the war, and in the midst of his research for a book on pagan prophecy in the age of Luther, he suffered a nervous breakdown which, along with the six-year seclusion that followed, most of his biographers shroud in secrecy. After a fairly long stay in a clinic for nervous disorders in Hamburg, he entered a sanatorium in Kreuzlingen.


XIX The Founding of Iconology

For six years Warburg alternated between full lucidity and fits of psychosis. On one occasion he was able to deliver a lecture on the Pueblo serpent cult to his fellow patients; it was also in part a reinterpretation of the Laocoon group. At other times he was convinced the destruction of the war was all his fault. As he confided to Heise, he had played with fire — or magic, and astrology, and superstition — and gotten burned. Or, as he later ex¬ plained to Cassirer, the demons whose hold over humanity he had studied so passionately were taking their vengeance on him. Yet Warburg gradually recovered, though never fully. Later he often spoke of his ill¬ ness quite openly, comparing his improvement to light at the end of a long tunnel. In 1945 Heise remarked of the biographers' silence about his illnesses: "Those who wish to distort the total picture of Warburg by leaving out his years of madness, the period of his harshest trials, banalize his extraordinary spiritual adventure. It is in fact highest proof of the intensity and uncompromisingness that marked all his endeavor." After further work at his institute and other trips to Italy Warburg died in 1929 at the age of sixty-three, in Hamburg. Just an hour before his death he and Cassirer discussed plans for what was to be his crowning achievement: studies on Giordano Bruno. In a eulogy Gustav Pauli said: "Many people are creative, that is, they infuse life into their professions; but few, by the strength of their character, bring grace to it. Warburg was one of those few." In fact Warburg did exert extraordinary fascination on all who knew him. Werner Weisbach has described him in his early days in Florence as "the dashing little man with pitch-black hair and goatee, quick and animated, one of the best, liveliest, and most cap¬ tivating conversationalists around, involving whomever he happened to be speaking with in the whirl of this thoughts, plans, words. When he was in the mood and in the right com¬ pany, he showed a remarkable gift for imitating the accent and manner of people he knew from any number of countries, and quite hilariously, too." Heise, who was always very proud to have been chosen as one of his students, de¬ scribed him in this way: Not very remarkable in outer appearance: small in stature, elegant, animated, given to sudden fits of temper, a little overweight at times from leading such a sedentary life. But what extraordinary eyes! Sometimes sparkling, sometimes melancholy, beneath those heavy eyebrows; how vibrantly they seemed to reflect the whole world, as if lit from within. Yet however unfathomable his gaze could be, it was not oppressive, only warming. He spoke quickly and with a clip, but not jarringly or incoherently, and his words were always well honed; his vocabulary was unusually rich, and very much his own, free of all academic jargon. His eyes twinkled from behind his glasses when he joked, as joke he did, often, and in great jags. It was less to take the edge off moments of tension than to clarify his thoughts, which is what mattered most to him. The barbed quality of his thinking was well expressed by a firm, though in fact rather high-pitched, voice, which even at its most imperious never lost an undercurrent of delicacy, so you were left with an unforgettable duality of his manner: severity and kindness, selfdiscipline and great empathy. Warburg was one of the pioneers of a new conception of art history; his influence is still felt, though his actual literary production was extremely slender, scarcely more than two volumes. But there is great suggestiveness in shorter essays such as "Francesco Sassettas letztwillige Verfiigung" and "Luftschiff und Tauchboot in der mittelalterlichen Vorstellungswelt," and in books like Bildniskunst und florentinisches Burgertum (1902). 215

XIX The Founding of Iconology

At the unveiling in 1958 of a bust of Warburg sculpted by his wife for the Hamburg Kunsthalle, Gertrud Bing, his long-time associate, remarked that Warburg had become almost a mythic figure. Not only the iconological research carried on by men of the stature of Panofsky, Saxl, Gombrich, and Wittkower speak for his efforts, but the course of twentiethcentury art history itself, which had turned toward symbolism and magic and popular im¬ agery. As always, the creative powers of an era exist on one plane. Warburg, it would seem, had as much to tell the artists as he had to tell the scholars of our time.

FRITZ SAXL The tradition of Warburg was carried on by his successor Fritz Saxl (1890-1948). Bom in Senftenberg in Bohemia, he was educated in Prague and Vienna, where he studied with Dvorak, and later in Berlin, where he studied with Wolfflin. He received his doctorate in Vienna in 1912. Linguistically gifted, he had learned Latin at the age of five, Greek and Hebrew at seven and eight, and Sanskrit at eleven. Of his own scholarly role he wrote: "Wolfflin's work reached its maturity a generation ago although he died only in 1947. New ideas have since come into the foreground. The main new problem, at least as I see it, was how to link the history of art with other branches of history, political, literary, religious, or philosophical. Art history as the history of artistic vision can never reach such diverse aspects." After his appointment as Warburg's assistant in Hamburg in 1913 Saxl devoted much of his time to the study of astrological and mythological manuscripts. In later years he focused on Mithraic religion; his book Mithras was published in 1931. In collaboration with Rudolf Wittkower, Saxl published British Art and the Mediterranean in 1948, and with Erwin Panofsky and Raymond Klibansky he wrote Saturn and Melancholy, which came out in 1964; both books reflect Saxl's specific interests. Klaus Berger, one of Warburg's early collaborators, called Saxl "the Indispensable," and said of his relation with Warburg: "He had come to him early on, from Austria, a slight man, rather introverted, but one who took to his new responsibilities and his employer very well. With his considerable erudition and his superb memory he ably assisted Warburg in specific problems, especially the bibliographical ones."2

EDGAR WIND Edgar Wind (1900-1971) joined the staff of the Warburg Library in 1928 and was to re¬ main devoted to its tradition throughout his career. Bom in Berlin, he studied philosophy and art history there, in Freiburg, and in Vienna. It was he who arranged for the transfer of the Warburg Institute to London in 1933, at which time he moved there himself. In 1942 he emigrated to the United States and began teaching at the University of Chicago. Two years later he joined the faculty of Smith College, where he remained until his death. His early publications, devoted primarily to the Italian Renaissance, included the books Bellinis Feast of the Gods (1948) and Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (1948). His major work. Art and Anarchy (1963), presents a forceful thesis about historians of art, "... themselves part of history, and far from immune to the artistic temper of their age." Even Heinrich Wolfflin, considered perhaps, the greatest art-historian of the last generation.


XIX The Founding of Iconology

was so "responsive to the prevailing mood of aesthetic purism that he developed a tech¬ nique of dissociation at least as extreme as that of Remy de Gourmont." In a polemic against Malraux's then much discussed books and ideas. Wind wrote: "What has optimistically been called the 'museum without walls' is in fact a museum on paper — a paper-world of art in which the epic oratory of Malraux proclaims, with the voice of a crier in the market place, that all art is composed in a single key, that huge monuments and small coins have the same plastic eloquence if transferred to the scale of the printed page, that a gouache can equal a fresco." At the end of Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance Wind added a brief appendix entitled "An Observation on Method," expressing some reservations about iconology and, implicitly perhaps, his own work: There are historians, many of them admirable, who stress the importance of the commonplace in history. Their work is salutary and indispensable, because the commonplace is a relentless force. But in so far as their method is specially contrived to examine that particular subject, it is not suited to deal with the exceptional in history, the power of which should also perhaps not be under¬ rated. In a perfect study, both aspects should be present; and it is one of the many weaknesses of this book that, except in one or two cases, it does not show how an adventurous proposition sinks to a platitude, and how genius is engulfed by complacency or inertia.... A method that fits the small work but not the great has obviously started at the wrong end. In geometry, if I may use a remote comparison, it is possible to arrive at Euclidean parallels by reducing the cur¬ vature of a non-Euclidean space to zero, but it is impossible to arrive at a nonEuclidean space by starting out with Euclidean parallels. In the same way, it seems to be a lesson of history that the commonplace may be understood as a reduction of the exceptional, but that the exceptional cannot be understood by amplifying the commonplace. Both logically and causally the exceptional is crucial, because it introduces (however strange it may sound) the more com¬ prehensive category. That this relation is irreversible should be an axiom in any study of art. Since the works of Wilhelm Voge the important question of quality has been neither posed nor adequately understood. The methods of iconology or formal analysis do not automatically solve it.

ERWIN PANOFSKY Erwin Panofsky (1892-1968) continued the tradition that Warburg inaugurated.3 What con¬ cerned him particularly was the flexibility, the adaptability, of the discipline to the shifting demands that each different era imposes. Panofsky studied with Goldschmidt and Voge, became an instructor in Hamburg in 1921 and a professor there in 1926, which is also to say that he had several years of direct contact with Warburg. Among his pupils at the University of Hamburg were Edgar Wind, Ludwig Heinrich Heydenreich, Helen Rosenau, Jan Lauts, and Lise Lotte Moller. After moving to the United States in 1933, and largely because of his activity there, he was considered for several decades a major, perhaps the major, practitioner of art history at the time.


XIX The Founding of Iconology

Panofsky's first works were a direct response to Wolfflin and Riegl; they included his dissertation on Diirer's art theory (TJeber die theoretische Kunstlehre Albrecht Diirers'') written at Freiburg in 1914 and the essays Das Problem des Stils in der bildenden Kunst (1915) and Der Be griff des Kunstwollens (1920). The essay on style was written as a critique of a lecture on "the problem of style" delivered in 1911 by Wolfflin, who, said Panofsky, had given the formulation but not the reasoning for his objects of inquiry: "In other words, the fact that one era 'sees' in a linear way, another in a painterly way is but a phenomenon of style, not a basis and not a cause of style; it is something in need of explanation, not the explana¬ tion itself." Panofsky disputed Riegl's view that we are not "spared the effort of understanding the artistic intention hidden beneath the realm of appearances." He came to the conclusion that "art is not — as one widespread view in defiance of mimetic theory would have one believe — a subjective statement of feeling or the affirmation of existence by various individuals, but the struggle of a formative power having clear, concrete, objective aims with potentially overmastering materials." Panofsky assumed then that merely formal description of a work of art is impossible, that formal description and formal analysis are already an interpretation of form and the analysis of that interpretation. He takes the Isenheim Altar of Matthias Grtinewald as an example:


XIX The Founding of Iconology

If I characterize that bright color complex there in the middle as a "person hover¬ ing in the air with perforated hands and feet," then, as we have said, I pass beyond a mere formal description but remain in an area of sense impression that is ac¬ cessible and familiar for the beholder through his sense of sight, his perception by touch or of movement, in short, by direct experience. If, on the other hand, I characterize that bright color complex as an "ascendant Christ," then I am im¬ posing a cultural fact; whereas someone, say, who had never heard the Gospel story, would get the impression that Leonardo's Last Supper depicts an animated dinner party broken up — because of the purse — by a dispute over money. Returning to the Isenheim Altar, Panofsky continued his examination: Without literary background for it, we cannot in fact have a sense of the meaning of this painting. As a mere phenomenon, we can describe it crudely and obviously as the depiction of a person hovering in the midst of some sort of glow with arms outstretched, a casket beneath him, while others, armed for battle, either squat on the ground looking mortally injured or stagger about as though panic-stricken or blinded. More must be known about the picture, then, than form and content, and such knowledge is an essential component in determining the artistic character of a given work. Panofsky concludes: So it is: To describe a work of art adequately, if only in a purely phenomenal way, we must — even if unconsciously and for a split second — already organize it by some stylistic criteria; for otherwise we can never know whether, in our "suspension in the void," we are to apply standards of modem naturalism or stand¬ ards of medieval spiritualism to the work in question. And it is somewhat surprising that so seemingly simple a sentence as "a person is rising out of a grave" can engender questions as difficult and general as the relation between surface and depth, body and space, the static and the dynamic — in short: that we must already have been considering the work of art by those "fundamental artistic principles" whose specific means of solution add up to what we call "style." The literary context, a passage in the Gospels presumably, must be sought to clarify the painting by Griinewald. And when this exact passage cannot be found, in fact, a search must begin for various other sources: "A thorough investigation of other possible texts is in order; with the aid of typological history we discover that what we have been referring to as 'the Resurrection of Christ by Griinewald' is in fact a highly complex conflation of motifs: the rising from the grave, the ascension, and the so-called transfiguration." With this method Panofsky moves far beyond Wolfflin's "formal" framework but also, as is now better understood, beyond the early forms of iconology in the works of Aby Warburg. Panofsky went on to develop theoretical, methodological, and interpretative ques¬ tions in his work on subjects such as German sculpture from the eleventh through the thir¬ teenth centuries, Diirer's relation to classical antiquity, and the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. More and more he applied his method to individual works of art: Jan van Eyck's Arnolfini portrait, Rembrandt's Danae, Poussin's Et in Arcadia Ego, or Michelangelo's tomb for Pope Julius II. Panofsky, particularly after moving to the United States, also worked at com¬ prehensive presentations of entire periods or bodies of work: a two-volume study of Diirer


XIX The Founding of Iconology

came out in 1943, the small monograph Gothic Art and Scholasticism in 1951, and Early Netherlandish Painting in 1953. But Panofsky also went on contesting the ideas of specific art historians and program¬ matically explaining the aims of iconology. Studies in Iconology: Humanistic Themes in the Art of the Renaissance, first published in 1939, was a sequel work to his seminal Idea of 1924; both are classic statements of methodological questions in contemporary art history. Primarily Panofsky studied the value of meaning in works of art, what Cassirer meant by symbolic values. Ernst Casssirer and Panofsky were colleagues at the University of Hamburg, and Panofsky attended many of Cassirer's courses. It was Cassirer who in his Philosophie der symbolischen Formen (1923-29) pioneered the philosophy of art in the early twentieth century. Panofsky's later research into the symbolic aspects of art is strongly in¬ fluenced by his work. Yet Panofsky was also aware that, just as formal analysis served the needs of a particular historical phase of art historiography, so too iconology is only a method, a provisional and modifiable tool, for getting at periods and problems in art that have been long neglected. Panofsky envisioned his work as a fusion of several methods that would allow a closer understanding of the specifically artistic nature of works. Thus in the introduction to Studies in Iconology he explained: "I have summarized in a synoptical table what I have tried to make clear thus far. But we must bear in mind that the neatly differentiated categories, which in this synoptical table seem to indicate three independent spheres of meaning, refer in reality to aspects of one phenomenon, namely, the work of art as a whole. So that, in actual work, the methods of approach which here appear as three unrelated operations of research merge with each other into one organic and indivisible process." The Festschrift, De artibus opuscula: Essays in Honor of Erwin Panofsky, published in New York in 1961, attests to the worldwide importance of this scholar, the worthy suc¬ cessor to Warburg in his exploration of the past, awareness of modem life and thought, and sense of their vital interrelation. Colin Eisler gave an accurate resume of Panofsky's achievement: "He was one of the few great scholars who could teach a method, impart a sense of special approach, and communicate a certain utilization and employment of cultural resources through his lectures and writings in such a way that the significance of his oeuvre extended far beyond the particular subject to which he had addressed himself."

WALTER FRIEDLANDER The work of Walter Friedlander (1873-1966) has a very important place in art-historical research, both in Germany and in the United States. Though nearly a generation older than Erwin Panofsky both scholars shared many basic convictions and on Occasion substituted teaching each other's courses at the New York University's Institute of Fine Arts. Born in 1873 Friedlander began his career with a rather unusual dissertation on Asian art, "Der mahavrata-Abschnitt des Cankhayana-Aranyaka," which was published in Berlin in 1900. His long and extremely fruitful academic career began when Wilhelm Voge invited him to Freiburg to become a Privatdozent (lecturer). His major area of research was French painting, specifically the work of Poussin, about which Friedlander soon became the international authority. His first book, Nicolas Poussin, was published in Leipzig in 1912, and much of his research over the next fifty years con¬ tinued to be devoted to Poussin.


XIX The Founding of Iconology

A book on Claude Lorrain, another French master of the seven¬ teenth century, followed in 1921; and four years later Friedlander produced a basic new approach in the understanding of the transition between Renaissance and Baroque in Italy, "Die Entstehung des antiklassischen Stils in der italienischen Malerei um 1520," which appeared in the Repertorium fur Kunstwissenschaft. In 1953 Friedlander joined the British art historian and Poussin specialist Anthony Blunt in the authoritative Drawings of Nicolas Poussin, published by the Warburg Institute in London. He also wrote the important Caravaggio Studies (1955). The last two works were written after his emigration to the United States in 1935. He brought with him a reputation as one of the great masters of German art history. Colin Eisler saw the teaching activity of Friedlander as a miracle: Already sixty-three when he arrived in this country in 1935, he was like some great solitary sea turtle washed up on a foreign shore, afflicted with indifferent health and poor hearing and eyesight. His long, creative life in America was to be a triumph of the spirit over the flesh. Voracious, inexhaustible, meddlesome, lovable, witty, and hugely intelligent, Friedlander was obviously a giant among men. Rem¬ iniscent of both Rabelais and Voltaire, he was most interested in the art of the sixteenth through the early nineteenth centuries, embracing the oeuvre of Cara¬ vaggio, Poussin, and the Neo-classic and Romantic generations in France. His lust for life and art, the breadth of his interests, and the depth of his understanding were phenomenal. He brought to his teaching an endless font of intuitive bril¬ liance, good sense, and good humor. As he grew still older, with no family of his own, Friedlander's dependence upon his students grew; they "adopted" him, passing on their distinguished and demanding charge from one generation to the next. Passionately interested in people — "I never stick my nose in my own busi¬ ness" — endowed with a gallic understanding of the Human Comedy, the grand old man's huge curiosity to know all about those he cared for may have driven away some superior students who wanted to share their minds but not their lives, but all in all, possessive though he may have been, Friedlander could always give far more than he received. His endless zest for art — only teaching what he loved — brought an element of pure pleasure into academic investigation which must have come as a welcome surprise to American graduate students who had been brought up in a rather tiresomely objective, impersonal manner. Friedlander loved art, but he certainly did not put it on a pedestal, approaching his subject with an inimitable combina¬ tion of delicacy and directness.4 When his European pupils devoted a Festschrift to him on his ninetieth birthday in 1965, which he celebrated by working the entire day, the international stature of this senior art historian became evident. Among those pupils were Michael V. Alpatov, Kurt Bauch, Otto Benesch, Jan BiaFostocki, Anthony Blunt, Ludwig H. Heydenreich, Hans Kauffmann, Georg Kaufmann, Denis Mahon, Marcel Roethlisberger, Willibald Sauerlander, Jean Seznec, John Shearman, and M. Sterling, prominent art historians of a younger generation venerating their admired model.


XIX The Founding of Iconology

RUDOLF WITTKOWER Like Panofsky, Rudolf Wittkower (1901-1971) received his training with Adolph Goldschmidt, though from early on his interests were very much his own: the postmedieval aspect of Renaissance art, and the Baroque. The two artists who most interested him were Michelangelo and Bernini. His early work was nonetheless decidedly part of a particular scholarly circle, that of Rome's art-history center, the Biblioteca Hertziana. Wittkower was also greatly influenced by the Warburgian method and gave various lectures at the Warburg Institute, which were applications of iconology to architecture. In 1962 he was invited to address the Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei on the subject of Baroque architecture and the history of scholarship on it. Wittkower is best known for his widely translated and reprinted work from 1949, Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism, which goes against traditional opinion in presenting Renaissance architecture as neither solely depending on formal laws nor reflecting a deviation from Christian ideas. He considered it rather an extension of Christian symbolism mediated by Neoplatonic ideas. Through an exact analysis of the relation between Alberti's architectural design and contemporary art theory, Wittkower concludes that Renaissance architecture, which for so long was interpreted strictly as a formal acceptance of the classical canon of simplicity, clarity, and beauty of proportions, should be read in a Christian sense, as the symbolic expression of the conception of God: "Its majestic simplicity, the undisturbed impact of its geometry, the purity of its whiteness are designed to evoke in the congregation a consciousness of the presence of God — of a God who has ordered the universe according to immutable mathematical laws, who has created a uniform and beautifully proportioned world, the consonance and harmony of which is mirrored in His temple below." In this book and others Wittkower devoted great attention to the work of Palladio and to the great influence he exerted in the Anglo-Saxon world. As with his studies of Alberti and other Renaissance architects, Wittkower's examination of the presence of Vitruvius in Palladio's work has a distinctly Warburgian stamp to it. Meaning and the interrelation of hitherto underestimated or even overlooked contexts, for example, the relation between architecture and music theory, are his central concern. In 1958 Wittkower published another important work. Art and Architecture in Italy, 1600-1750, for the Pelican History of Art series edited by Nikolaus Pevsner. A central area of Italian art is elucidated in an extensive survey beginning with the conquest of Mannerism and extending to Classicism. In 1963 he and his wife, Margot, pub¬ lished Bom under Saturn, a broad historical account of the role of Melancholy in the lives and works of major artists.5 Unlike art historians who have sought to have a prescriptive and programmatic influence on practicing architects, in Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism Wittkower managed to seize upon contemporary architectural concerns without direct partisanship of any sort. The conspicuous turn of many architects toward historicizing forms around 1960 was due in part to Wittkower's historical investigations. Stylistic designations, for instance, Reyner Banham's term "neoclassicism," would be unthinkable without the precedent Rudolf Wittkower


of Wittkower.


The Founding of Iconology

Wittkower's work decisively influenced both art historians and architects in the AngloSaxon world. It remains to be seen whether the impact of an art historian on contemporary architecture is positive or negative. The fact that past art has been able to be seen anew in our time is of lasting credit to this scholar.

RICHARD KRAUTHEIMER Though not directly related to the group around Aby Warburg and Erwin Panofsky, Richard Krautheimer (bom 1897) represents the high standards of contemporary art history. His major research is devoted to the iconography of architecture, specifically to the churches of Rome which he documented in a monumental series of publications under the title The Early Christian Basilicas of Rome (1937-77). Krautheimer studied in Munich with Wolfflin and Frankl (1919-20), in Berlin with Goldschmidt, Wulff, and Noack (1920-21), in Marburg with Hamann and Jacobsthal (1921), and in Halle again with Frankl (1921-23), receiving his doctorate there in 1923. His first teaching position was at the University of Marburg, where he was a lecturer. From 1935 to 1937 he taught in Louisville, Kentucky, then at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, and finally at the Institute of Fine Arts in New York City. Colin Eisler writes about his teachings: "The breadth of his interests — from the Early Christian period through the Italian Baroque with special concern in the history of architecture and sculpture — has made him one of the most stirring teachers and scholars." Eisler continues: Charged with wit and excitement, Krautheimer's imaginative temperament is ac¬ companied by a rigorous, exacting approach. He lectures with dramatic eloquence, in a fluent, somewhat British English, which carries the listener along an audacious, revealing journey into art. For all the erudition at his command, Krautheimer never lost a sense of spontaneity and enthusiasm which encourages students to share and continue some of the more austere as well as the more immediately attractive of his many interests.6 Among Krautheimer's many interests are the origins of art-historical writing in Italy, specifically the works of Ghiberti and Alberti, which he wrote about in the essay "The Beginnings of Art Historical Writing in Italy" (in Studies in Early Christian, Medieval and Renaissance Art, 1969). In both artists he sees precedents of later forms of art history and categorizes them accordingly: "The principles of a systematic art history, an 'art history without names,' can be no more clearly stated than it is here by Alberti. To the position of the 'pure' art historian Ghiberti, a new position is now sharply counterposed. In its formulation lies the significance of Alberti for all future art history up to now." Krautheimer has had an enormous impact on the formation of Amer¬ ican art history, comparable only to that of Panofsky, Friedlander and Wittkower. He once wrote in a letter: "All told, I feel that in order to become a halfway decent art historian, one should have passed the sixties. It takes a lifetime to learn." Among Krautheimer's students are promi¬ nent American art historians such as James S. Ackerman, Irving Lavin, and Leo Steinberg.

Richard Krautheimer


XIX The Founding of Iconology

JURGIS BALTRUSAITIS Born in Lithuania in 1903, Jurgis Baltrusaitis (died 1988) might be termed Warburgian in the comprehensiveness of his interpretations, which are devoted mostly to the symbolic forms in Christian art. His special interest, too, in Eastern European art has made him a successor to Strzygowski. He wrote a book on the medieval art of Georgia and Armenia, and the two volumes of his Histoire generate de I'art were published in his homeland in 1934 and 1949. His increasing concentration on medieval Christian symbolism led to publica¬ tions that include Le moyen age phantastique (1955) and Anamorphoses ou perspectives curieuses (1955). In his book Stylistique omamentale dans la sculpture romane he made important contributions to formalist art history. Like the Surrealist artists, Baltrusaitis was drawn to magical and fantastic forms of the past long considered marginal or worthless by more traditional critics. Here, too, we see a correspondence between the art and art history of an era. In 1939 Baltrusaitis was made professor of art history at the University of Kaunas in Lithu¬ ania. He lived in Paris after 1947, and for many years was a visiting professor at Yale University. Like Warburg and Panofsky he has worked towards a deeper understanding of con¬ tent, yet in a period that Warburg never concerned himself with: the Middle Ages in Europe. Baltrusaitis was particularly interested in the ties of European medieval artists to the Orient. Whereas Warburg had dealt chiefly with the survival of classical antiquity in early Renaissance Italy, Baltrusaitis traced the survival of Indian and Arabic art forms in the European Middle Ages. Fascinating material is to be found here, and all of it highly important for the universalization — the deparochialization — of art history.7

ANDRE CHASTEL AND JAN BIAEOSTOCKI The French art historian Andre Chastel (1912-1990) has extended the iconological tradition in a wide range of books mostly on the Italian Renaissance, among them: Marsilio Ficino et I’art (1954), a history of Italian art; and, in collaboration with Rob¬ ert Klein, L'Age de Ihumanisme (1963). At the 1964 Interna¬ tional Congress for the History of Art in Bonn, Chastel deliv¬ ered a fascinating paper on the history of the picture-within-apicture motif from the fifteenth to the twentieth century. With Chastel, too, histor¬ ical analysis includes but goes far beyond formal analysis. His work belongs to the French postsurrealist world, with the greater demands on historical understanding and content that Jurgis Baltrusaitis


Andre Chastel

that world implies.

XIX The Founding of Iconology

The Polish art historian Jan BiaFostocki (1921-1988) was greatly interested in questions of method, and had a distinguished career as a curator too: at the age of thirty-four he was appointed director of the foreign painting department at Warsaw's National Museum. From 1962 he was also an adjunct professor at the university there. BiaFostocki's theoretical and methodological speculation gave rise to a number of books, including Poussin and Classicist Art Theory (1953), Caravaggio (1955), Breughel (1956), and Iconographic Studies on Rembrandt (1957). In 1959 he published, in Polish, a compen¬ dium entitled Five Centuries of Thought on Art; in 1966 a collection of essays on style and iconography appeared in Dresden. For BiaFostocki, his museum work with its direct contact with individual works of art and his activity as a teacher have led to distinguished results. He is a typical representative of the generation of art historians who carry on the tradition of Warburg and Panofsky.

ERNST GOMBRICH AND THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ART Ernst H. Gombrich (born 1909) was, until 1976, director of the Warburg Institute in London and as such was the keeper, in a literal sense, of its tradition.8 But in his own work Gombrich has combined the Warburgian method with an allegiance to the Vienna School, in which he was first trained, the student of Julius von Schlosser and Emanuel Loewy. He has also been much influenced by Ernst Kris's psychoanalytic approach to art, and from the begin¬ ning a psychological understanding of art has been uppermost in his work. At the age of twenty-six Gombrich wrote a history of world art for children — a con¬ siderable success, translated into five languages. It demonstrated his talent, one that would remain with him, for explaining complex phenomena simply but uncompromisingly. While he was still in Vienna a scholarship from the Warburg Institute brought Warburg's work to his attention; he moved to London in 1936. An early essay deals with the work of Giulio Romano. The Story of Art was published in 1950, a book on Raphael's Madonna della Sedia in 1956, Art and Scholarship in 1957, his masterpiece Art and Illusion in 1960, and a collection of various articles and essays. Meditations on a Hobby Horse and Other Essays on the Theory of Art, in 1963. In 1966 he wrote a volume dedicated to the art of the Renaissance published under the title Norm and Form. In 1972 Symbolic Images ap¬ peared, followed in 1979 by The Sense of Order and Ideals and I dob. To elucidate the origins of artistic impulse and practice Gombrich uses illustrations from sources as unorthodox as advertising and cartoons, film

Jan Biahstocki

Ernst Gombrich


XIX The Founding of Iconology

and television, and other new media. In one passage on visual communication, 3-D film was cited to illustrate the achievement of Giotto! In a polemic against Andre Malraux, Gombrich defends the view of history that pro¬ ceeds from contemporary realities: Some critics, particularly Andre Malraux, have... inferred that art of the past is something utterly sealed off from our experience, that it can survive only as what he calls "Myth," transformed and readapted, as in the ever-shifting fabric of the historical kaleidoscope. I am less pessimistic. I believe that historical im¬ agination is capable of overcoming these barriers, that we can imagine ourselves into various styles, just as we can adapt to various media and new notational systems."9 Gombrich draws no divisions between prehistoric and contemporary art. Rather, he asserts a common nature of all creativity. It is no wonder then that his history of art included areas previously limited to other disciplines: prehistoric art, antique art. East Asia, caricature, the new mass media, and more. Above all his writing has never been intended only for his professional colleagues. Thus, he says in the preface to The Story of Art: I know from experience that these [pretentious jargon and bogus sentiment] are the vices which may render people suspicious of all writing on art for the rest of their lives. I have striven sincerely to avoid these pitfalls and to use plain language even at the risk of sounding casual or unprofessional. Difficulties of thought, on the other hand, I have not avoided, and so I hope that no reader will attribute my decision to get along with a minimum of the art historian's conventional terms to any desire on my part of "talking down" to him. For is it not rather those who misuse "scientific" language, not to enlighten but to impress the reader, who are "talking down" to us — from the clouds? The close of The Story of Art in turn is an appeal to the public's responsibility towards art: "Artists, we trust, will always be bom. But whether there will also be art depends to no small extent on ourselves, their public. By our indifference or our interest, by our preju¬ dice or our understanding we may yet decide the issue. It is we who must see to it that the thread of tradition does not break and that there remain opportunities for the artist to add to the precious string of pearls that is our heirloom from the past." Gombrich, then, pushed the boundaries of art history very far: necessarily so, con¬ sidering the range of contemporary art, which further and further strains against limits that until recently were considered sacrosanct. The new vision of what is art in our mass society, the acceptance of subject matter long reviled by official aesthetics, calls our very notions of art and the history of art into question. The phenomenon of Pop Art is hardly well served by an art history too highbrow to deal with the realities of urbanization and Americaniza¬ tion. With the present abolition of "high" and "low," virtually everything will be subject to consideration. And this is the ultimate proof that, nourished by the same past and indivisibly evolved as they are, art and the study of its history will continue to share, and enjoy, the same vital reality. Once again it is demonstrated that art and art history, nour¬ ished from the same roots of living reality, have grown together inseparably with the creative achievements of the past.





rnest F. Fenollosa (1853-1908) described a vision and not a reality when he wrote that we are approaching a time in which the artistic creation of all mankind might be seen

in totality. Now, though much still remains to be done, from a contemporary perspective Fenollosa's goal appears to be nearly attained.1 Since the beginning of the twentieth century, art-historical research has expanded to include both the earliest phases of prehistoric art and the most recent achievements of contem¬ porary artists. The fact that geographical borderlines no longer impose conceptual limitations on serious research is one of the primary differences between art history in the twentieth century and that of earlier times. Erwin Panofsky described the beginning of this comprehensive approach when he noted that "where the European art historians were conditioned to think in terms of national and regional boundaries, no such limitations existed for the Americans"2 The increased avenues of research and the multiplicity of approaches have broadened the field of art history in all countries to a degree that Winckelmann, Kugler, Rumohr, and Burckhardt could never have imagined. Although, as J.A. Schmoll (Eisenwerth) observed, no single scholar could possibly grasp all of the knowledge accumulated,3 art historians including Andre Michel, Elie Faure, Rene Huyghe, Horst W. Janson, Ernst H. Gombrich, Kenneth Clark, and Michael V. Alpatov have made attempts to cope with the new allinclusiveness.4 By definition, the works by these scholars are doomed to be fragmentary and subjective, and reveal the need for a continual revision of art history.5 But monumental cooperative approaches do exist in series such as the Pelican History of Art, The Arts of Mankind, and the Propylaen Kunstgeschichte, which remain reliable sources for universalistic scholarship.

THE AMERICAN SITUATION AND THE IMMIGRANTS The United States has clearly become the center of international research in the various areas of art history, at least since the great wave of immigration from Germany, Austria, and Italy before and during the Second World War. In his Kunstgeschichte American Style: A Study in Migration, Colin Eisler has convincingly described the enormously fertile situa¬ tion created by the arrival of art historians from Europe who had already produced a flowering of art history during the earlier decades of the twentieth century.6 The shift from Europe to America was channeled primarily through three institutions: the Institute of Fine Arts of New York University, Princeton University, and Harvard Univer¬ sity. Each in its own way accepted the immigrants and provided a base from which, for


XX Foundations of Art History Today

Julius S. Held

Kurt Weitzmann

decades to come, they would inspire new generations of art historians and new departures in art history itself. The perceptive guidance of Richard Offner (1890-1965), who was appointed as early as 1923, and the ingenious administration of W.S. Cook, made New York University the most influential port of entry for European scholars. At one point the faculty of the Institute of Fine Arts included Henri Focillon, Marcel Aubert, Erwin Panofsky, Richard Ettinghausen, Karl Lehmann, Walter Friedlander, Richard Krautheimer, and Julius S. Held — a unique roster, especially considering it was a time of war. As the years went by, some scholars moved to other universities and the later development of the Institute was shaped primarily by Horst W. Janson. At Princeton, the University's Department of Art and Archaeology chaired by Charles Rufus Morey, and the Institute for Advanced Study, which was established in 1932, were particularly enriched by immigrant art historians such as Erwin Panofsky, Paul Frankl, Charles de Tolnay, and Kurt Weitzmann, in addition to a well-established line of American scholars, among them Donald Drew Egbert (1902-1973). As early as 1945, Egbert envisioned a com¬ prehensive approach to interdisciplinary teaching: .. .the arts themselves can be approached with profit in various ways: not only from the point of view of the artist as creator, or from that of chronological develop¬ ment, but systematically, or from a pragmatic point of view as well. In order to take best advantage of all these possibilities, it is advisable to teach the history of several related arts together, rather than any of them alone, since advantage can then be taken of the fact that several related disciplines are being dealt with. In other words, methods of integration and coordination can then be directly illustrated within the arts themselves.7 The third major center to introduce European art history was Harvard University and its Fogg Art Museum, both founded upon a long and respected tradition in the teaching


XX Foundations of Art History Today

Seymour Slive

Horst W. Janson

of art and art history. Among the immigrants at Harvard were Jacob Rosenberg, Georg Swarzenski, and Otto Benesch. From this background a new generation of American scholars emerged, including James Ackerman (born 1919), John Coolidge (born 1913), Sydney Freedberg (born 1914), and Seymour Slive (born 1920). In connoisseurship the borderlines between foreign-born and American-born specialists was secondary: it was their field of expertise that distinguished their research.8

HORST W. JANSON There can be no doubt that one of the most influential contributions in the creation of an American art history was made by Horst Janson (1913-1982). He had studied in Europe with Erwin Panofsky and Wilhelm Pinder and in a sense mediated between the great im¬ migrants and the new American art historians.9 Janson graduated from Harvard University, and his dissertation, "The Sculptured Works of Michelozzo di Bartolomeo," marked the start of his life-long dedication to the field of Renaissance sculpture. Janson's academic and curatorial career began at the art gallery at Washington Univer¬ sity in Saint Louis, where he developed a collection that soon became a model for other university art galleries.10 In several respects Janson was connected with methods of iconology, as his Apes and Ape Lore in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (1952) demonstrates. Mysterious subject matter is here analyzed in terms of meaning derived from sources out¬ side of art history. Among Janson's important scholarly books is his two-volume Sculpture of Donatello (1957-63), which established him as an authority on that artist. His History of Art has become the standard text for art-history survey courses taught at American art schools and universities. Janson's work is evidence of his capacity to engage in an exhaustive analysis of art and its eras.11


XX Foundations of Art History Today

GEORGE KUBLER At Yale University, the profession was especially enriched by two French art historians: Marcel Aubert (1884-1962) and Henri Focillon. These professors, who spent a number of years at Yale before returning to France, inspired a group of American scholars, among them Sumner Crosby, Charles H. Seymour (1912-1977), Carroll Meeks, and, most importantly, George Kubler (bom 1912). Apart from the decisive influence Kubler had on new research in Latin American architecture, his ideas and concepts became applicable to art history in general. Kubler was introduced to art history by his father, Frederick W. Kubler, who went to Germany to study with Riehl, Furtwangler, Voll, and Weese. The elder Kubler returned to the United States in 1906 with a degree in art history from Wurzburg University. His son George began his studies at Yale University in 1929, interrup¬ ting them frequently to attend the universities in Berlin and Munich. He continued his studies at Yale from 1934 to 1936 under Aubert and Focillon, and in 1938 completed his education at New York University under Erwin Panofsky. He returned to Yale, where until 1983 Kubler remained one of the outstanding professors.12 Kubler's dissertation was a pioneering step in a new area of re¬ search — the religious architecture of New Mexico — and was published in 1940. Kubler continued to devote the majority of his books and articles to the exploration of this unknown territory which he almost singleGeorge Kubler

handedly brought to the forefront of art history. He utilized new interdisciplinary methods which later became influential in other areas as well: Instead of being able to work with his first cousins — the philologists, the classical scholars, and the medievalists in European archeology — the historian of art who wishes to acquaint himself with American studies is heavily dependent upon the work of anthropologists, ethnologists, botanists, zoologists, astronomers, metallurgists, meteorologists, paleontologists, and a whole host of other kinds of historians and scientists.13 In his assessment of art history in our time, Alfred Neumeyer singled out Kubler's method: "In his Mexican Architecture of the Sixteenth Century [Kubler] has fused demography (popula¬ tion analysis) and other approaches worked out by anthropology with the form analysis of art history in a method beautifully fitted to the mixed Indian-European setting of this culture'.'14 Kubler's merging of methods was remarkably similar to the method of iconology as developed by Aby Warburg and Panofsky. In a perceptive review of 1961, Kubler said of Panofsky's Renaissance and Renascences in Western Art: "The book is possibly a signpost in the difficult reorientation that our actual periodical change requires."15 Beyond his groundbreaking works in the architecture and art of Latin America,16 Kubler's most important contribution is his book The Shape of Time: Remarks on the History of Things. Here he deals not with a limited subject but with an entirely new attitude toward the history of art and its objectives. As Thomas Reese wrote: The Shape of Time formulated a flexible and all-embracing system that united the diverse approaches within the history of art (technicists, connoisseurs, for¬ malists, iconographers, so-called cultural historians), and demonstrated similarities



Foundations of Art History Today

and differences between the history of art and other fields (physics, mathematics, biology, geology, linguistics, anthropology, literary criticism, and philosophy). Nevertheless, while it sought to enrich the history of art through repeated references to ideas in the natural and social sciences, it insisted on the uniqueness of art history, and demanded it not to be subsumed by other disciplines and domains"17 George Kubler's influence extended beyond research in Spanish and Latin American art and architecture to various kinds of popular culture and - as Rudolf Wittkower before him —to contemporary artists and architects. Reese commented: Many intellectuals felt trapped by the growing homogenization of world culture following World War II and by the dogmatic purism that had become the ideology of the establishment. Painters like Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns, ar¬ chitects like Robert Venturi, and historians like George Kubler moved to restore that sense of complexity and uncertainty that they embraced as an essential com¬ ponent of life and reality. August Heckscher put it this way: "Amid simplicity and order rationalism is born, but rationalism proves inadequate in any period of upheaval. Then equilibrium must be created out of opposites_A feeling for paradox allows seemingly dissimilar things to exist side by side, their very incongruity suggesting a kind of truth."18

MEYER SCHAPIRO The work of Meyer Schapiro is an example of the shaping of American art history beyond the impact made by the immigrants. His method united previously opposing tendencies such as symbol research and form analysis, and this synthesis resulted in creating, as with Kubler, remarkable reverberations among artists as well as architects. Meyer Schapiro was born in Lithuania in 1904. He came to this country in 1907 and grew up in Brooklyn. His early education encompassed painting and art history, and in 1924 he graduated with honors from Columbia College in New York City.19 Schapiro's earliest inspirations came from European art historians, among them Wilhelm Voge, Heinrich Wolfflin, Alois Riegl, and Max Dvorak; and from the Americans Arthur Kingsley Porter and John Dewey, the philosopher. After a two-year trip to Europe and the Near East Schapiro focused his research on medieval art, which resulted in the essay of 1939 From Mozarabic to Ro¬ manesque in Silos. John Plummer wrote later about this publication: "Meyer treated a set of Romanesque sculptures for the first time as art rather than as documents."20 Frederick Antal in his Remarks on the Method of Art History singled out the same article but evaluated it from a different perspective: "...Schapiro has explained the coex¬ istence of the fantastic, conservative with the more naturalistic modem style as due to the steady change then occurring in the outlook of the increasingly centralised Spanish Church and ultimately to the transition of Christian Spain from scattered agricultural communities to powerful centralised states with urban secular middle classes."21 Schapiro regarded the intriguing abstractions of the Romanesque as being analogous to those in twentieth-century art, in works by Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning, and devoted serious study to these phenomena, which up to then had only rarely been inte¬ grated into the mainstream of art history. Reevaluation of medieval art and the new evaluation of contemporary art were both part of Schapiro's interest, and his method led to new attitudes


XX Foundations of Art History Today

toward both. In a logical progression from his earlier studies, Schapiro turned to the prob¬ lem of realism, his research culminating in the essay Courbet and Popular Imagery.22 He then began to place more and more emphasis on the pioneers of contemporary art, to wit: books on Van Gogh (1950) and Cezanne (1952) and essays devoted to the understanding of contemporary art as seen from the viewpoint of his art-historical background and his personal human concerns. In his book on Cezanne, he not only makes mention of the method of Heinrich Wolfflin but goes beyond it when he writes about Cezanne's concept: In his thought the essence of style was no longer sufficiently defined by the categories of classic and romantic. These were only modes in which a personal style was realized, more concrete than either. In this new relation to the old historical alter¬ natives, Cezanne anticipated the twentieth century in which the two poles of form have lost their distinctness and necessity. Since then, in Cubism and Abstraction, we have seen linear forms that are open and painterly that are closed, and the simultaneous practice of both by the same artist, Picasso.23 In 1960, in an article "On the Humanity of Abstract Painting," Schapiro wrote about the humanitarian aspects of contemporary art, contradicting the leading school of Marxist art theory as well as the accepted point of view of modernism: The charge of inhumanity brought against abstract painting springs from a failure to see the works as they are; they have been obscured by concepts from other fields. The word "abstract" has connotations of the logical and scientific that are surely foreign to this art. "Abstract" is an unfortunate name; but "non-objective" "non-figurative," or "pure painting" — all negative terms — are hardly better. In the nineteenth century, when all painting was representation, the abstract in art meant different things: the simplified line, the decorative or the flat. For the realist Courbet, a militantly positive mind, it was the imaginary as opposed to the directly seen; to paint the invisible, whether angels or figures of the past, was to make abstract art. But Constable could say: "My limited and abstracted art is to be found under every hedge and lane."24



Foundations of Art History Today

Schapiro continued: Abstract painting today has little to do with logical abstraction or mathematics. It is fully concrete, without simulating a world of objects or concepts beyond the frame. For the most part, what we see on the canvas belongs there and nowhere else. But it calls up more intensely than ever before the painter at work, his touch, his vitality and mood, the drama of decision in the ongoing process of art.25 The ideals of many contemporary artists, as well as their art itself is in close harmony with these basic thoughts.26 This type of historically founded defense of the art of his own time was in line with those art historians who, beginning in the eighteenth century with the likes of Winckelmann, Kugler, and Fiedler, championed the innovative artists of their own times against the false defenders of tradition. When most other art historians were still engaged in their limited fields of research, Schapiro was teaching fundamental lessons in how to perceive the works of artists like Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko. In the 1950s Schapiro expanded his method to include psychological research in inter¬ preting works of art. In his articles "Two Slips of Leonardo and a Slip of Freud" of 1955-56 and "Leonardo and Freud" of 1956, he not only honed his art-historical method but also warned against applying research from other disciplines to art history.27 On another occasion Schapiro took the eminent German philosopher Martin Heidegger to task by questioning his philosophy of art.28 Schapiro's more recent research extends from the beginning of civilization to the most contemporary phenomena. In his paper "On Some Problems in the Semiotics of Visual Art: Field and Vehicle in Image-Signs," he questions the generally accepted notion of the rec¬ tangular piece of writing paper, and likewise the rectangular format of paintings: 'We take for granted today as indispensable means the rectangular form of the sheet of paper and its clearly defined smooth surface on which one draws and writes!' Investigating these presup¬ positions is one of Schapiro's objectives, and parallels the rethinking and questioning of Western tradition by the French philosopher Jacques Derrida. What finally counts for Schapiro is not a scheme or a rule, but the individual work by which the method is determined, not the reverse. It is the achievement of the artist that is Schapiro's paramount concern, which distinguishes him from many other contemporary art historians.30 Among the many pupils of Meyer Schapiro who have since gained their own reputations are James Ackerman, Harry Bober, Herschel Chipp, Creighton Gilbert, Albert E. Elsen, Frederick Hartt, Carla Gottlieb, David Rosand, Leo Steinberg, and Henri Zemer. Other former students, now in the museum field, include Karl Katz, William Lieberman, William Rubin, John Plummer, and Maurice Tuchman.31 The achievements of this younger generation are evidence of new developments in American art history. Schapiro's impact also extends to contemporary American artists who studied with him: George Segal, Robert Motherwell, Ad Reinhardt, Allan Kaprow, Lucas Samaras, Robert Whitman, and Donald Judd, to name a few. George Segal's portrait bust of Meyer Schapiro of 1977, now in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, is an homage by an artist influenced by an art historian. Lucas Samaras summed up his studies with Schapiro when he wrote: "It was like being in the presence of an artist who is more than an artist!'32

David Rosand



Foundations of Art History Today

Irving Lavin

Leo Steinberg

Lorenz Eitner

THE MIDDLE GENERATION Beyond the enormous impact made by the scholars who arrived from Europe and by those already in the United States, such as Janson, Kubler, and Schapiro, art history in America continued to grow in various directions, and the independent achievements of yet another generation equal those of any other country in the world. The second wave of immigrants from Europe, among them Eduard Sekler, Konrad Oberhuber, Gert Schiff, Jean Clair, and Kurt W. Forster, enriched the climate even more. Pupils of the earlier group of immigrants and of American art historians represent a wide spectrum of art-historical research: James S. Ackerman in sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury Italian architecture; Howard Saalman in medieval architecture; Irving Lavin in Byzan¬ tine, Early Christian, and Baroque art; and Leo Steinberg in areas as varied as Renaissance painting and twentieth-century art. Steinberg, who was bom in Moscow in 1920, emigrated to Germany where he came in contact with artists such as Kathe Kollwitz. He then moved with his family to England and finally in 1945 to America where he studied with both Richard

William S. Hecksher


Albert Elsen

Robert Rosenblum

XX Foundations of Art History Today

Ann Lorenz van Zanten

Richard Shiff

Carole Herselle Krinsky

Krautheimer and Meyer Schapiro. As Schapiro before, Leo Steinberg had an education in painting and sculpture and considered drawing as an essential tool also for the art historian.33 Steinberg developed an intricate method of juxtaposing theological and art-historical methods, as seen in his 1984 book The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modem Oblivion.34 The comprehensive panorama of art history in America today is heterogeneous and complex and has received important contributions from personalities as diverse as David R. Coffin, Lorenz Eitner, Ann Lorenz van Zanten, Michael Fried, Richard Shiff, Carole Herselle Krinsky, Sydney J*. Freedberg, Charles H. Seymour, Robert Branner, William S. Heckscher, Svetlana Alpers, Timothy J. Clark, George L. Hersey, Neil Levine, Albert Elsen, and Robert Rosenblum (born 1927). Rosenblum's historically based book Transformations in Late 18th-Century Art of 1967 was pioneering for a new continuity of traditional and modern art form. Modern art was investigated with rigor and serious scholarship by George Heard Hamilton, Linda Nochlin, Lucy R. Lippard, William S. Rubin, Rosalind E. Krauss. A new feminist art history developed after the pioneering work of Nochlin and Lippard in the publications by Mary D. Garrard and Norma Broude.35

Linda Nochlin

Lucy R. Lippard

Norma Broude


XX Foundations of Art History Today

ART HISTORY IN ENGLAND Beginning with Roger Fry and Clive Bell, English art history had close ties to America. Like the United States, though to a lesser degree, England was enriched by immigrants from Germany, Austria, and Hungary.36 Several of these scholars were given important positions in England. Nikolaus Pevsner (1902-1983), who arrived in 1935, became head of several research institutions, taught at the University of London for several decades, and for many years edited The Architectural Review.37 Ernst H. Gombrich became director of the War¬ burg Institute in London, one of the leading international centers in the field of symbol research.38 Johannes Wilde, who was bom in Budapest, became an authority on European painting.39 Helen Rosenau (1900-1984) taught at Manchester University, concentrating on eighteenth-century architecture.40 Francis D. Klingender (1907-1955) came to England in the late 1920s and followed a dialectical approach in his publications Marxism and Modem Art (1943) and Art and the Industrial Revolution (1947).41 Frederick Antal (1887-1954), who had studied first with Wolfflin and then with Dvorak in Vienna, emigrated to England in 1933. As a friend of Klingender and Herbert Read he also advocated a Marxist art-historical method. His Florentine Painting and Its Social Background of 1947 became a classic in the social history of art. Antal later concentrated on Fuseli (Fuseli Studies, 1956) and Hogarth (.Hogarth and His Place in European Art, 1962). His "Remarks on the Method of Art History" contains illuminating insights.42 Arnold Hauser, who, like Antal, came from Hungary, con¬ centrated on the social background of art. His two major books are The Social History of Art and The Philosophy of Art.i3 Working alongside and in close contact with the immigrants was Herbert Read (1903-1968), who, according to Donald Drew Egbert, was "perhaps the most widely-known living critic of the arts in the Western World, and if anything he has enjoyed a wider in¬ fluence in the United States than did Roger Fry. More than Fry, Read inclined strongly toward anarchism and like him possessed a conviction that aesthetic experience constitutes an awareness of a kind of ultimate reality..."44 Herbert Read was not only devoted to art; his interests also included criticism, literature, and politics. Besides his strong involvement

Nikolaus Pevsner


Helen Rosenau


Foundations of Art History Today

in modem art Read was equally interested in art-historical subjects, as his 1930 study entitled Flemish Influences on the Development of Glass Painting in England indicates. During the years he was actively involved in the modern movement in England, Read became one of the most fervent advocates of abstraction, par¬ ticularly the art of Piet Mondrian. Nevertheless, art for Read could never be separated from his political convictions.45 In the works of Roger Hinks (1903-1963), another side of art history in England was manifested. Hinks concentrated on Carolingian and Mannerist art and recognized that a primarily rational perspective limited the ability to under¬ stand the mysterious elements in these periods. Like Herbert Read, Hinks was also interested in the literature and music of his time.46 A more staid exponent of British art history was Lord Clark of Saltwood, earlier known as Kenneth Clark (1903-1983). He began his career in 1926 as an assistant to Bernard Berenson in Florence, with whose practice of connoisseur-


th Cl


ship he became increasingly disenchanted (as did Meyer Schapiro, who came in contact with Berenson at about the same time). In Italy, Kenneth Clark also met Aby Warburg, who impressed him greatly: "Warburg was without doubt the most original thinker on art history of our time and entirely changed the course of art-historical studies"47 When Clark returned to England, instead of pursuing his study of Italian art, he devoted himself to an entirely different field of research. His book on The Gothic Revival was published in 1928. He later returned to the Italian Renaissance, to which Berenson had introduced him. At the age of thirty-one he was appointed director of the National Gallery in London.48 In his autobiography, Kenneth Clark speaks of several assignments that had to do with his political involvement, reminiscent of art historians before him such as Anton Springer in the nineteenth century. Writing about one of his lecture trips to Sweden, Clark noted his uneasiness, occasioned".. .by the fact that I had to take with me various secret documents relating to the shipment of ball-bearings" He continued: "If one is a secret agent it is extraor¬ dinary how like a secret agent one comes to look!'49 Clark is especially remembered for his television series "Civilization" of 1969; it offered the international public a "personal view" of masterpieces of world art in a carefully prepared series of lectures, later published in book form.50 To a great extent the personality of Kenneth Clark was as convincing an element as the art works themselves. Cyril Conolly once described him as an "Egyptian hawk-god carved in obsidian."51 At the end of the film series Clark concluded with these words: "The incomprehensibility of our new cosmos seems to me, ultimately, to be the reason for the chaos of modern art. I know next to nothing of science, but I've spent my life in trying to learn about art, and I am completely baffled by what is taking place today. I sometimes like what I see, but when I read modem critics, I realize that my preferences are merely accidental!'52 Along with Kenneth Clark and other English connoisseurs of art history, Anthony Blunt (1907-1983) commands a prominent place, even if political scan¬ dals have clouded his career. An impeccable and successful scholar, Blunt had always been interested in French art. His dissertation of 1934-35 was entitled "The History and Theories of Painting in Italy and France 1400-1700, with Special Reference to Poussin." After his studies in Cambridge and at the British School in Rome, he became director of the Courtauld Institute in London in 1947 and soon also Surveyor of the Queen's Pictures. The list of his publications includes The Drawings of Nicolas Poussin, written in 1939 in collaboration with Walter

Anthony Blunt


XX Foundations of Art History Today

John Summerson Joseph Rykwert

Friedlander; Artistic Theory in Italy: 1450-1600 (1940); his monumental Art and Architec¬ ture in France, 1500-1700 (1953); his two-volume Nicolas Poussin (1966); and, in 1967, a full-length book to one modem masterpiece, Picasso's Guernica. Among Blunt's numerous journal articles "Art and Morality)' published in The Heretic in June 1924, is significant vis-a-vis the many years he spent as a spy for the Soviet Union, as a member of the Philby-Burgess-MacLean ring. Although he eventually admitted his guilt, Blunt was never brought to trial; he was, however, deprived of his peerage.53 British art history has a great tradition dealing with its own architectural heritage, begin¬ ning with John Ruskin in the nineteenth century. This tradition has been successfully carried on by John Summerson, Nikolaus Pevsner, and Dorothy Stroud; Reyner Banham, Joseph Rykwert, and Robin Middleton emigrated to America. Among the publications on the Italian Renaissance, the works by Peter Murray and Michael Baxandall are noteworthy.54 Roszika Parker and Griselda Pollock founded the Women's Art History Collective in London and advocate a reexamination of women's contributions to art and art history. Francis Haskell (bom 1928) has investigated the relationship between client and artist. Michael Podro is at the center of a group of young scholars in Exeter who concentrate on questions of method and the theory and history of art history.55

Griselda Pollock Francis Haskell



Foundations of Art History Today

GERMAN ART HISTORY AFTER 1945 The exodus of a large number of scholars and the aftermath of the manipulation of art history by the Hitler regime complicated the situation in art history in Germany after 1945. In spite of these difficulties, some art historians remained: Wilhelm Voge, who lived in a small town in East Germany; Theodor Hetzer, who lived in Ueberlingen on Lake Constance; and Dagobert Frey in Breslau. Others such as Hans Kauffmann, Herbert von Einem, Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Hans Jantzen, Wolfgang Lotz, and Ludwig Heinrich Heydenreich held prominent positions in universities both before and after 1945. In the museums, several outstanding scholars, among them Carl Georg Heise (1890-1980), Erich Meyer (1887-1967), Theodor Muller (bom 1905), and Ludwig Grote (1893-1974), remained and adapted to the situation. Ernst Gall (1888-1958), Margarete Kuhn, Karl-Heinz Clasen (1893-1978), and Wilhelm Franger (1890-1964) contributed to specific areas of research in exemplary ways. Due to their presence, the continuity of art history as a scholarly discipline was maintained. Hans Sedlmayr (1896-1984) was one of the most prominent art historians during

Margarete Kuhn

the Hitler and postwar years in Germany. Bom in the Austrian part of Transylvania, Sedlmayr's first impressions and education came from the Vienna School of Art History, then the leading institution on the international scene. As an army officer in the Levant, Sedlmayr's acquaintance with Constantinople (Istanbul) and Jerusalem led to his in¬ terest in architecture. It was only later, under the compelling guidance of Max Dvorak, that he directed his attention to art history. After his graduation in 1923, he taught at Vienna and in 1936 succeeded Julius von Schlosser in the most prestigious teaching position at the university. In collaboration with the Russian Michael Alpatov and the Austrian Otto Pacht, Sedlmayr established the New Viennese School of Art History and postulated in his Zu einer strengen Kunstwissenschaft both a preliminary fact¬ finding discipline and an interpretative discipline.56 Sedlmayr became interested in theoretical questions and introduced new ways of investigating works of art, later referred to as Strukturanalyse. In his first publica¬ tion Gestaltetes Sehen of 1925, he proposed a multilayered investigation uniting the formal existence and the inner meaning of art. He argued that it was the function of

Karl-Heinz Clasen

the art historian to recreate the "Sinn-Gestalt" of the work of art, i.e., the visual character as conceived by its creator. The introduction of Gestalt psychology into art-historical methodology resulted in brilliant new insights into Austrian Baroque architecture, as exemplified by Sedlmayr's reinterpretation of Fischer von Erlach's facade of the Karlskirche in Vienna. In his later years Sedlmayr moved to Germany where, in 1951, he began a celebrated teaching career at Munich University. In his 1948 book Verlust der Mitte, he attacked modem art, and in 1955 he continued his polemics in Die Revolution der modemen Kunst. Sedlmayr argued that modem art expressed a view of autonomous man without God, and that only in the past, under a homogeneous religion, was art possible, a position at the opposite pole to that of Meyer Schapiro in America. Even so, his negative point of view engendered a debate on contemporary art in Germany. Sedlmayr's style, distinguished by clarity and elegance, as well as his knack of coining popular slogans made his work eminently readable and successful.57 Like Hans Sedlmayr, Dagobert Frey (1883-1962) came from the tradition of the Vienna School of Art History, but pursued different ends.58 Like Sedlmayr, Siegfried

Hans Sedlmayr



Foundations of Art History Today

Giedion, and Paul Frankl, Frey began his studies first in architecture, and only after earning a doctorate in engineering did he turn to art history. He studied with Max Dvorak and in 1921, after the death of his teacher, Frey was appointed director of the Institute of Art History at the Bundesdenkmalamt (Federal Office of Conservation) in Vienna.59 Frey's early publications include Bramantes St. Peter Entwurf und seine Apokryphen of 1915, followed by the basic Gotik und Renaissance als Grundlagen der modemen Weltanschauung of 1929. In 1943, during World War II, Frey wrote and published two carefully researched books on English culture: Englisches Wesen im Spiegel der Kunst (1942) and Englisches Wesen in der bildenden Kunst (1943). In his later works (e.g., Kunstwissenschaftliche Grundfragen. Prolegomena zu einer Kunstphilosophie of 1946) he delved more and more into theoretical research, arguing against Wolfflin and Schmarsow. In his Probleme einer Geschichte der Kunstwissenschaft of 1960 he explored aspects of the history of art history.60

KURT BADT The work of Kurt Badt (1890-1973), while continuing the best tradition of German art historians, conforms as well to international standards. Born in Berlin in 1890, Badt studied with Wilhelm Voge at Freiburg and wrote his dissertation in 1914 on Andrea Solario, but after graduation embarked on neither an academic nor a museum career.61 Instead he built a house on Lake Constance, where he lived most of his life, involved in painting and philosophy, and in close contact with his friend Ludwig Wittgenstein.62 In 1939 Badt emigrated to England where he remained until 1952. Working in conjunction with the Warburg In¬ stitute in London, he concentrated on Delacroix and Constable. Badt began a series of important publications only after his return to Germany in 1952: Die Kunst Cezannes (1956); Van Goghs Farbenlehre (1961); Modell und Maler von Vermeer — Probleme der Interpretation (1961); and, finally, Kunsttheoretische Versuche (1968) and Die Kunst des Nicolas Poussin (1969). His 1971 book Eine Wissenschaftslehre der Kunstgeschichte seeks a basic answer to the perennial question of the meaning of method in art history. Badt here constantly cites Hegel and Heidegger, and especially the nineteenth-century German historian Johann Gustav Droysen, whose book Historik served him as a model. Badt's specific contribution to German art history and to art history in general is difficult to assess. Although he possessed a great sensitivity to the visual aspects of works of art, he did not neglect their deeper philosophical connotations. This dual approach stemmed from his studies with Wilhelm Voge and had parallels in the writings of his friend Theodor Hetzer. Voge's attention to the quality of the individual work and his understanding of creative development from the point of view of the great masters were concepts shared by Badt and Hetzer, as was their mutual admiration for the art of Cezanne.63 Whereas Kurt Badt's impact was solely that of his writings, the influence of other German art historians extended far beyond their publications. Among these, Hans Kauffmann's (1896-1983) teaching career, both before and after 1945, inspired a great many students — Kurt Badt


for example, Helmut Borsch-Supan, Tilman Buddensieg, Martin


Hans Kauffmann

Herbert von Einem

Foundations of Art History Today

Ludwig Heydenreich

Wolfgang Lotz

Wamke, and Matthias Winner who have since established independent reputations. Kauffmann's field of research was European art from the Middle Ages to the nine¬ teenth century, with particular attention to Gothic architecture. Renaissance sculpture. Mannerist painting, and the nineteenth century.64 His contemporaries included university professors Gunter Bandmann (1917-1975), who studied under Kauffmann and later did pioneering research on questions of architectural iconology; Herbert von Einem (1905-1983), who concen¬ trated on nineteenth-century art history;65 Heinrich Liitzeler, who wrote on a wide range of topics from the philosophy of art to iconology and offered a conclusive, systematic approach in his monumental work of 1976-77, Kunsterfahrung und Kunstwissenschaft; Heinz Ladendorf (born 1909), a specialist of Baroque sculpture; Kurt Bauch (1897-1975), who, in his Abendlandische Kunst of 1952, attempted an overview of all major phases of Western art; and Werner Sumowski (born 1931), the renowned Rembrandt scholar whose publications are the definitive works on the Dutch master. Significant contributions, especially in Italian art and architecture, were made

J.A. Schmoll (Eisenwerth)

by Ludwig Heinrich Heydenreich (1903-1978) and Wolfgang Lotz (1912-1981), who were associated with the Biblioteca Hertziana in Rome and the Zentralinstitut fur

Hans Belting

Willibald Sauerlander

Max Imdahl

Werner Hofmann


XX Foundations of Art History Today

Kunstgeschichte in Munich, and by Hans Gerhard Evers (bom 1900) and J.A. Schmoll (Eisenwerth; bom 1915), who developed highly individual and innovative approaches toward art history. Newer trends in German art history can be seen in the work of Werner Hofmann (bom 1928), Max Imdahl (1925-1988), Rainer Hausherr, Willibald Sauerlander (bom 1924), Hans Belting (born 1935), and Wolfgang Kemp (bom 1946), who applied new and more complex methods in opening up little known fields of art history.66 Sauerlander concentrated on medieval sculpture and architecture in France; Imdahl developed a new perspective of the interpretation of the individual work of art; Hofmann centered upon the art around 1800 and the twentieth century. Inter¬ penetrations between art history and society were the center of the research of the Hamburg school of Wolfgang Schone (1910-1989), Martin Wamke (bom 1937), Horst Bredekamp (bom 1947), and Klaus Herding. Klaus Herding

FRENCH ART HISTORIANS French art historians continued the long tradition created by Elie Faure, Emile Male, Henri Focillon, and Marcel Aubert which focuses on iconographic questions. The same subject also dominated the work of the Lithuanian-bom art historian Jurgis Baltrusaitis. In works by Pierre Francastel, Louis Hautecoeur, and Pierre Lavedan, this tradition is combined with fresh views of twentieth-century art. Since 1930, Francastel dedicated himself to French art of the seventeenth century, with espe¬ cially the sculptor Francois Girardon and the sculptural decorations in the gardens of Versailles, and has also been concerned more generally with the development of postmedieval art. In a polemical work of 1945, L'histoire de lart instrument de

la propaganda germanique, Francastel wrote about the German art historians Strzygowski and Pinder and their anticlassical approach, which earlier had pro¬ voked the fervent accusations of Bernard Berenson. Francastel's book Peinture et Louis Hautecoeur

societe: Naissance et destruction dune espace plastique de la Renaissance au Cubisme (1951) dealt with contemporary problems and their integration into the tradition of art history.67 By juxtaposing works from different periods, he offered illuminating insights into the paintings of his own era, an achievement possible only because he was capable of recognizing both quality and essence, which have to be proved again and again, particularly in all forms of contemporary art. Louis Hautecoeur (1884-1973) dealt principally with architecture and society in France from the Renaissance to the nineteenth century. His Mystique et architec¬

ture: Le symbolisme du cercle et de la coupole (1954) achieves remarkable typological insights. Pierre Lavedan concentrated on French architecture and urbanism and became one of the authorities on research of cities in general. His three-volume Histoire

de I'urbanisme (1926-52) remains the standard work in the field. Other important French art historians are Louis Grodecki (1910-1982), who was involved in pioneering research on Gothic architecture and stained glass;68 Jean Seznec (1905-1983), who dealt with interrelations between antiquity and postmedieval art; George Salles, the long-time director of the Louvre in Paris; Jean Cassou (born 1897), the founder of the Musee d'Art Moderne in Paris; and Louis Reau, who con¬ Louis Grodecki


centrated on sculpture and painting of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and

XX Foundations of Art History Today

on Russian art. In the work of Christian Zervos (1889-1970), modern art forms and the civilization of the prehistoric Eastern Mediterranean are seen as related phenomena and interpreted accordingly. More recently, French art history is represented by the work of Andre Chastel (1912-1990), who synthesized formal analysis and research in iconology. His early work centered around the philosophy and art of the Italian Renaissance (Marsilio Ficino et I'art of 1954), whereas his later work encompassed Renaissance art in Northern Europe and art theory. Pierre Rosenberg and Jacques Thuillier (bom 1928) have specialized in French painting of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; Albert Chatelet in early French and Netherlandish painting; and Jean Pierre Cuzin in the work of Caravaggio. 69 French art history was intensely influenced by the contributions of philosophers, among them Jean-Paul Sartre and Andre Malraux, who basically changed the way art is perceived.70 But an even greater and more radical impact has been made in recent times on the thinking of art historians by a group of French structuralists, the most prominent of whom are Claude Levi-Strauss, Jacques Lacan, Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault, and Jacques Derrida. Each of these philosophers has made significant contributions in defining a new art and art history which has radically changed traditional attitudes not only in France but in other countries as well. The young generation of French art historians is manifested in the works of Hubert Damisch (bom 1928), Werner Szambien, and Jean Clair (born 1940).

ITALIAN ART HISTORIANS Italian art history has had complexities that stem partly from political events which, as in Germany, had to be overcome. While a large number of Italian art historians remained in the country during the years of the Fascist regime, as did the greatest philosopher of the period, Benedetto Croce, some prominent figures, such as Lionello Venturi, did not.71 After the war, however, most Italian scholars returned, unlike the situation in Germany where a large group of leading art historians remained abroad. In Italy art-historical research developed along the lines established earlier by Adolfo Venturi and Corrado Ricci and culminated in contributions by a group of distinguished scholars. Mario Salmi (born 1889), while concentrating on Italian art from the Romanesque to the Renaissance, was also president of Antiquities in Rome and editor of the influential

Enciclopedia universale dell'arte, started in 1958.72 Besides teaching for many years at the University of Naples, Roberto Pane specialized in architecture from the six¬ teenth to the nineteenth centuries, arriving at a new understanding of aspects of the art of Southern Italy. Arduino Colasanti (1877-1935), a pupil of Adolfo Venturi, dealt with Italian and modern art from the Renaissance to the present. Lionello Venturi (1885-1961), the son of Adolfo Venturi, in his excellent books on French Impressionism and Paul Cezanne, broke away from Italian art, which had been the exclusive interest of Italian art historians.73 To the same generation belong Giuseppe Fiocco, Roberto Longhi, Anna Maria Brizio, Giulio Carlo Argan, and Cesare Gnudi. The archeologist Ranuccio BianchiBandinelli (1900-1975) was not only one of the most influential historians of Roman antiquity, he also offered new perspectives in evaluating Roman art from a con¬ temporary point of view.74 Rodolfo Pallucchini (born 1908), Carlo Ludovico Ragghianti (born 1910), Roberto Salvini (1912-1985), and Eugenio Battisti-all

Lionello Venturi


XX Foundations of Art History Today

Giulio Carlo Argan

Rodolfo Pallucchini

Carlo Ludovico Ragghianti

Roberto Longhi

have devoted themselves to various aspects of Italian art: Salvini to the Tuscan Renaissance, Pallucchini to painting in Venice, and Battisti to Renaissance and Baroque painting.75 The most important Italian art historian was Roberto Longhi (1890-1970). He studied with Pietro Toesca and Aldolfo Venturi and was influenced by the philosophy of Benedetto Croce. His book on Piero della Francesca of 1928 shows his independence. In collaboration with Emilio Cecchi, Longhi became editor of the influential magazine Via Artistica and

Paragone. Much of Longhi's major work was concentrated on the art of Caravaggio. More recently, Italian art historians — Federico Zeri (born 1921), Franco Borsi, Renato Barilli, Bruno Zevi (bom 1918), Renato de Fusco (bom 1929), Manfredo Tafuri (bom 1935), Paolo Portoghesi (bom 1931), and the brothers Maurizio (bom 1939) and Marcello (bom 1941) Fagiolo dell'Arco — have been involved with questions of method and criticism. As in France, semiotics has influenced art history, as exemplified by works of Umberto Eco (bom 1932), Gillo Dorfles (born 1910), and Sergio Bettini.

SWISS ART HISTORIANS Swiss art historians have attempted to continue the great tradition of Burckhardt and Wolfflin. Several outstanding scholars directly related to the two Swiss masters are loseph Gantner, Siegfried Giedion (1888-1968),76 and Hans Hoffmann. Gantner and Giedion applied Wolfflin's principles of formal analysis to a different time period, whereas Hans R. Hahnloser (1899-1974) specialized in medieval architecture and became an authority on Villard dTIonnecourt, whose sketchbook he published in 1935.77 The younger generation of Swiss art historians have expanded their field of research into various areas: Stefano Bianco (bom 1941) has sought new approaches to Islamic architecture and Ulya Vogt-Goknil to Ottoman architecture. Georg Germann (bom 1935) and Oskar Batschmann (bom 1943) are concerned with methodological questions, the former in architectural theory, the latter in the general theory of art history. Werner Oechslin (bom 1944), whose background is in postmedieval Italian and French architecture, has also done extensive research in the field of theory. A great number of Swiss art historians have close relations to contemporary art based on the tradition established by Georg Schmidt (1896-1965), Carola Giedion Werner Oechslin


Welcker, Arnold Riidlinger (born 1919), Gotthard Jedlicka (1899-1965), and Franz

XX Foundations of Art History Today

Meyer and therefore have come to an understanding of the art of the twentieth century earlier than most art historians in other countries.78 Adolf Max Vogt (born 1920), also from the same tradition, deals with traditional architecture and its continuation into the twen¬ tieth century.

ART HISTORY IN AUSTRIA The contrast between a unique and great past and a less glorious present is perhaps most notable in Austria, where art history continues with Otto Pacht and Karl Maria Swoboda (1889-1977), who had been in direct contact with the renowned masters Riegl, Dvorak, Strzygowski, Schlosser, Benesch, and Sedlmayr.79 Swoboda was a pupil of Dvorak and taught art history for many years at the University of Vienna. Walter Koschatzky, former director of the Albertina , and Veronika Birke currently curator at the Albertina, are specialists in the fields of technique and Italian graphics. The second generation of modem Austrian art historians includes Hermann Fillitz (bom 1924), Hilde Zaloacser (born 1903), and Renate Wagner-Rieger, who work in a variety of fields: Fillitz on questions of medieval and Renaissance art, Zaloacser on Coptic and Byzan¬ tine art, and Wagner-Rieger on traditional Italian architecture and nineteenth- and twentiethcentury Austrian architecture. Some of the most important Austrians of this generation have emigrated: Eduard Sekler and Konrad Oberhuber to America and Werner Hofmann to Germany. Oberhuber returned as director of the Albertina in Vienna.

Otto Pacht

Hilde Zaloacser

Renate Wagner-Rieger


Cornelius Hofstede de Groot, Abraham Bredius, and Hendrik Enno van Gelder made the Netherlands a center of art history where art historians from many other countries were trained in the great tradition that these scholars had established.81 This tradition was con¬ tinued in the work of Elizabeth Neurdenburg (1881-1957); Horst Gerson (1907-1978); Jan Gerrit van Gelder (1903-1980); H. van de Waal; and Godefridus Joannes Hoogewerff (1884-1963). Hoogewerff, while devoted to the art of the Netherlands, was also deeply involved studying the Italian Renaissance and Italian-Dutch relations of the sixteenth and


XX Foundations of Art History Today

seventeenth centuries. Among other important Dutch art historians are Hessel Miedema, Karel G. Boon, and Jan A. Emmens.82 William S. Heckscher (originally from Hamburg), who has written an important book on Rembrandt's Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulp, and Egbert Haverkamp-Begemann, known for his books on Willem Buytewech and on Rembrandt's Night Watch, left the Netherlands for the United States, but they continued to be concerned with Dutch art. Two art historians of the younger generation are more interested in modem art: H.L.C. Jaffe and Adrian Wessel Reininck (born 1933) both concentrate on Dutch contributions to twentieth century art. Among the distinguished Belgian art historians are Leo van Puyvelde (1882-1965), Edgar de Bruyne (1898-1959), and Jacques Lavalleye (bom 1900), all of them interested in the medieval and postmedieval tradition of their country.83 Leo van Puyvelde

De Bruyne was for some time the Belgian minister for the colonies; Puyvelde worked at ^ Muse£ Royaux des Beaux Arts in Brussels, in addition to teaching in Ghent and Liege. Lavalleye, who taught at the University of Louvain, wrote Introduction aux etudes d'archeologie et d'histoire de I'art (1958).84

ART HISTORY IN SCANDINAVIA In spite of the fact that art history is a relatively new area of research in Scandinavian countries, outstanding contributions have been made in a wide range of methodologies. In Sweden the distinguished work of Johnny Roosval (1879-1965), Osvald Siren (1879-1977), Henrik Cornell (1890-1981), Ragnar Josephson (1891-1966), and Gregor Paulsson formed a solid foundation for future research (see chapter seventeen). Of greatest significance is the work of Paulsson, who taught at Uppsala University and influenced several generations of Swedish art historians. Rudolf Zeitler, who also taught at Uppsala, continued in Paulsson's footsteps while concentrating on questions of method and on art around 1800, which he examined in his book Klassizismus und Utopia (1954). Ingvar Bergstrom, at Goteborg University, made a career-long study of still lifes. Later scholars include Oscar and Patrick Reutersvard: Oscar has worked on Ledoux; Patrick has studied French eighteenth-century architecture and polychromy in Egypt, Greece, and Rome.85 Other important Swedish art historians.

Gregor Paulsson


Rudolf Zeitler

Erik Forssmann

Christian Norberg-Schulz

XX Foundations of Art History Today

Erik Ernst Forssmann, Gotz Pochat (born 1940), and Lars Olof Larsson (born 1938) are teaching today at universities in Austria and Germany. Among the Norwegian art historians, Stephan Tschudi-Madsen and Christian NorbergSchulz (bom 1926) have concentrated on architectural history, twentieth-century art, and in the area of Art Nouveau. In Finland, Onni Okkonen (1886-1962) and in Denmark, Teddy Brunius, each made important contributions in their respective areas.86

Juan Eduardo Cirlot

Pier Maria Bardi

Jorge Glusberg

ART HISTORY IN SPAIN AND LATIN AMERICA For most of the twentieth century, art history in Spain has been somewhat isolated from developments elsewhere in Europe. Nevertheless, Spanish art historians such as Manuel Gomez Moreno, Diego Angulo Iniguez (1901-1986) and Enrique Lafuente Ferrari have pro¬ duced comprehensive works dealing with general art history and basic methodology.87 More recently Alexandre Cirici-Pellicer, Juan-Antonio Ramirez, Juan Eduardo Cirlot, and Maria de Corral emphasized problems of modem art. In Latin America, art history has been advanced by the work of Isabel M. de Paalen, working in the Museum in Mexico City; Jorge Romero Brest, for many years director of a research institute in Buenos Aires; and Pier Maria Bardi. Bardi was born in 1900 in Italy, and following his emigration to Brazil in 1947 he not only became an indispensable figure in the development of art and architecture in his adopted country, but also had great impact internationally as director of the Museu de Arte de Sao Paulo. Other new approaches are evident in the activities and writings of Jorge Glusberg in Argentina, whose work includes contemporary art, architecture, and electronic media.

ART HISTORY IN EASTERN EUROPE In Eastern Europe, art-historical tradition can be traced to the early twentieth century and to the Russian art historians Nikolai Brunov (1898-1971; who also wrote under the name G.A. Andreades), an authority on Byzantine and Russian architecture; N. P. Kondakov (1844-1925), a specialist on icons; Georgii Kreskent'evich Lukomski, who focused on classical and neoclassical architecture; and Victor N. Lazarev, who wrote about Russian and Italian


XX Foundations of Art History Today

Michael V. Alpatov Maria Poprzecka Adam S. Labuda Dan Grigorescu Vera Horvat-Pintaric

painting.88 The most influential scholar in the field of Russian art history is Michael V. Alpatov (1902-1986), whose work encompasses Italian, French, and Russian art. His contributions place new emphasis on specific values in Eastern Art; his monumental Denkm 'dler der Ikonen-

malerei of 1925 (in collaboration with Oscar Wulff) and his Geschichte der altrussischen Kunst of 1932 (in collaboration with N. Brunov) were pioneering in this regard. Other prom¬ inent Russian art historians are Natalia Ivanova Sokolova (1898-1980), Galina A. Pougatschenkova, G.V. Smirnov, Vladimir Semionovich Kemenov (bom 1908), and Mikhail Libman (bom 1920). Yuri Kuznetsov has specialized in drawings; Irina Linik is an expert in Netherlandish art; and Evgeny Levitin has written extensively on Rembrandt and on Russian popular imagery.89 The situation in Poland has been especially rich and complex and many Polish art historians have had direct and fruitful contact with Western European and American scholars. Jerzy Kamecki, an early authority on Polish art, later became part of the art-historical develop¬ ment in England. Jan Bialostocki, a specialist in iconological questions and in the art and architecture of the Renaissance, taught in Warsaw. Other important art Polish art historians include Lech Kalinowski, Mieczyslaw Porebski, and Maria Poprzecka, who teach at the University of Cracow; Adam S. Labuda, at the University of Poznan; and Piotr Skubiszewski, at the University of Warsaw.90 Among the influential art historians in the former Czechoslovakia are Jaromir Neumann at the University of Prague; Rudolf Chadraba, whose interest lies in Northern Renaissance art and, particularly Albrecht Diirer; and Dusan Konesny, a specialist in the twentieth cen¬ tury. The school of the Czechoslovakian structuralists, especially the work of Jan Mukarovsky, was not only of importance in that country but was also instrumental in the formation of French and American structuralism.91 Art historical tradition in other Eastern European countries is as diverse as their respec¬ tive cultures. Prominent Hungarian art historians include Terez Gerszi of the Museum of Fine Arts in Budapest, an authority on Netherlandish art of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Pal Kelemen, a specialist on El Greco, and Janos Bonta and Mata Major (1904-1986), both of whom have concentrated on twentieth century architecture.92 Art history in Romania is based on the teachings of Coriolan Petranu (1891-1945), who concentrated on questions of method. The most outstanding contemporary art historians in Romania are George Oprescu (1881-1969), Dan Grigorescu (bom 1931), and Virgil Vata§ianu.93 In the former Yugoslavia, the tradition culminates in the work of Ljubo Karaman (1886-1971), Oto Bihalji-Merin (bom 1904), whose areas of expertise include Goya, primitive art, and contemporary art; and by the younger art historians Vera Horvat-Pintaric, Zdenka Munk, and Matko Mestrovic.94


XX Foundations of Art History Today

OUTLINES OF A CONTEMPORARY ART HISTORY IN ASIA In the first centuries of its development, art history has been predominantly centered in Western civilization. Only recently have non-Westem countries made important contribu¬ tions to study the art of their own heritage and the the art of other countires. Several art historians should be mentioned in this context: Avraham Ronen, Nevet Dolev, and Mira Friedman from Israel; Ananda K. Coomaraswamy (1878-1947) from In¬ dia. Japanese art historians have made significant contributions. Based on the early research of Ernest F. Fenollosa and his pupil Kakuzo Okakura (1862-1913), art historians such as Yukio Yashiro (1890-1975), Chisaburo Yamada, Shujiro Shimada, and Hohso Minamoto have concentrated not only on Japanese art but also on selected periods of European art. Shuji Takashima, who teaches art history at Tokyo University, studied with Andre Chastel in Paris and specialized in the Italian Renaissance.






he art historian has been seen in various guises throughout history. If at the outset the history of art was written primarily by artist-writers such as Giorgio Vasari and

Karel van Mander, over the years the art historian has been regarded as an adventurer, as a gentleman art lover, and even as a scientist. Max Dvorak pointed out the possibility — indeed, the necessity —of uniting art and science. The idea of a mutual development and growth is, of course, a reincarnation of the old principles of Romanticism, in which criticism and art are on the same level, and are indications that such a synthesis is required today. The definition of the professional goals of the art historian requires a transformation of his perception by society.1 Many addresses given at conferences of art historians and confessions by major scholars in the field reveal the gap between the realities of contem¬ porary life and the goals of the art historian. The actual number of art historians in any country is small, and their professional organizations have little or no power to influence governments or take part in decision-making policies of any kind. Compared with the political and social contributions made in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries by such figures as Winckelmann, Goethe, Ruskin, Rumohr, Springer, and Wolfflin, the impact of art historians on society in the twentieth century is minimal. But, one might rightfully argue, times are very different and other energies predominate, much to the deterioration of a harmonious balance between culture and society. Values based on cultural survival are underestimated today, while questions of physical and economic survival take precedence. One of the factors in the waning influence of art history on society is the art historian's latent inability to recognize the significance of the work of contemporary artists, who in their own struggle often rely on radical means to communicate. Art historians, as the name implies, are essentially concerned with things of the past and neglect the necessary intercon¬ nections between past and present. There can be no question that the gap between young artists, striving for new and as-yet-undefined goals, and art historians is deep and that dialogues that would seek to explore their relationship are rare. Even if true avant-garde art must above all be new and innovative, the study of art need not be restricted to purely historical questions. Thus the work of art critics has become a challenge to the pure art historian: the critic not only has immediate contact with works of contemporary artists but commendably often cites the art of the past for comparison.2 More and more crossover between disciplines occurs: artists study art history and art historians are involved in producing art. These interconnections have created a new basis for a renascence of art history. Our time is a multidimensional one and popular art, art for the elite, applied art, and multimedia are no longer isolated into separate categories but form an interrelated whole.


Epilogue: The Image of the Art Historian

Conrad Fiedler wrote in the nineteenth century that there are no preconceived ideas for understanding works of art, as each individual case and each newly created work of art has to be understood anew and integrated into the body of tradition, lest a false security be created and accepted by the public. .. .This is the worst consequence of the new fashion; familiarizes with the work of art and deceives the fact, concealing that works of art in this way remain wholly misunderstood. It is essential to take a new position towards art, to destroy this security, which is one of the consequences of — and even innate to — historical development, and to restore to the individual's approach to art not only new standards, but also some of the old timidity; that alone can lead to true, produc¬ tive intimacy with art.3 If we look back into the history of art history and the work of those who have contributed to the formation and development of the discipline, the timidity, as Conrad Fiedler described it, is indeed present in innumerable instances. It is recognizable in the basic attitudes of Winckelmann and Goethe, Rumohr and Burckhardt, Warburg and Voge, and it necessarily incorporates that important element of humility and tolerance toward achievements and innovations by others, which is the key to all endeavors pertaining to art.







Translation by C.G. Siebelis, Stuttgart, 1827.

Concerning the position of artists in the classical period, see Con¬ rad Fiedler, "Ueber die Kunsttheorie der Griechen und Romer," in Gottfried Bohm, ed., Schriften zur Kunst, vol. 2 (Munich, 1971); H.L. Ulrichs, Ueber griechische Kunstschriftsteller (Wurzburg, 1887); Bernhard Schweitzer, "Der bildende Kiinstler und der Begriff des Kunstlerischen in der Antike," Neue Heidelberger Jahrbiicher (1925); Hans Pochel, Kunst und Kiinstler im antiken Urteil (Munich, 1925); Ernst Kris and Otto Kurz, Die Legende vom Kiinstler (Vien¬ na, 1934); J.J. Pollitt, "Professional Art Criticism in Ancient Greece," Gazette des Beaux-Arts 64 (1964), pp. 317-30; R. Ross Holloway, A View of Greek Art (Providence, R.I., 1973).


Friedrich Miinzer, "Zur Kunstgeschichte des Plinius," Hermes 30 (1895); K. Jex-Blake and E. Sellers, The Elder Pliny's Chapters on Art (London, 1896); A. Kalkmann, Quellen der Kunstgeschichte des Plinius (Berlin, 1898); S. Ferr, Plinio il Vecchio, Storia delle arti antiche (Rome, 1946); Giovanni Becatti, Arte Gusto (Florence, 1951).


G. Downey, "Justinian as a Builder," The Art Bulletin 32 (1950).


M. de Wolf, Etudes historiques sur lesthetique de S. Thomas d'Aquin (Louvain, 1896). Concerning the conception of art during the Middle Ages, see Erwin Panofsky, Abbot Suger (Princeton, 1946); E. De Bruyn, Etudes d'estetique Medieval (Bruges, 1946); Richard Krautheimer, "Introduction to an Iconography of Medieval Architecture," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 13 (1950); Erwin Panofsky, Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism (Latrobe, 1951); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), p. 15ff.; R. Assunto, Die Theorie des Schonen im Mittelalter (Cologne, [1963] 1982); Johannes Jahn, Die Stellung des Kiinstlers im Mittelalter: Festschrift fur E. Trautscholdt (Ham¬ burg, 1965); Umberto Eco, Art and Beauty in the Middle Ages (Lon¬ don, 1986); Klaus Niehr, "Horaz in Hildesheim: Zum Problem einer mittelalterlichen Kunsttheorie," Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte (1989).


In Constantinople, there was an extensive topographical literature. The standard for the Monks was determined by Dionysius on Mount Athos for the icon paintings of the following century.


H. Ilg, ed., Trattato della pittura (Vienna, 1871).


Hans Kunze, Das Fassadenproblem der Franzdsischen Frith- und Hochgotik, (Leipzig, 1912); Hans Hahnloser, Villard de Honnecourt (Vienna, 1935); Robert Branner, "Three Problems from the Villard de Honnecourt Manuscript," The Art Bulletin 39 (1957).


Kraus, Dante: Sein Leben und sein Werk: Sein Verhaltnis zur Kunst und Politik (Berlin, 1897); Friedrich Rintelen, "Dante fiber Cimabue," Monatshefte fiir Kunstwissenschaft (1913 and 1917); Edward A.

Concerning Plato's relationship to pictorial art, see Erwin Panofsky. Idea (Berlin, [1924] 1960); Edgar Wind, 'Theios Phobus. Untersuchung fiber die platonische Kunstphilosophie," Zeitschrift fiir Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft 26 (1932); H.I.M. Broos, Plato's beschouwing van Kunst en Schonheid (Leiden, 1948); W.J. Versenius; "Mimesis. Plato's Doctrine of Artistic Imitation and its Meaning to Us," in Philosophia Antiqua (Leiden, 1949); T.B.L. Webster, "Plato and Aristotle as Critics of Greek Art," Symbolae Osloenses 29 (1952); P.M. Schul, Platon et I'art de son temps (Paris, 1952) ; C.R. Lodge, Plato's Theory of Art (London, 1953); Bernhard Schweitzer, Platon und die bildende Kunst der Griechen (Tubingen, 1953) ; E. Huber-Abramovicz, Das Problem der Kunst bei Platon (Winterthur, 1954); H.F. Bouchery, 'Plato en de beeldende Kunst," Gentste Bijdragen to de Kunstgeschiedenis 2 (1954); R.C. Cross and A.D. Woozley, Plato's Republic (London, 1964); Hermann Bauer; Kunst und Utopie (Berlin, 1965), p. 38ff.; Hanna Philipp, Tektonon Daidala, Der bildende Kiinstler und sein Werk im vorplatonischen Schrifttum (Berlin, 1968); Mary Settegast, Plato Prehistorians, (Cambridge, Mass., 1987).


Many artists voiced their opinions about questions of their art, for example, Polyclitus, Nikias, Apelles, and Pamphilos. See H. von Steuben, Der Kanon des Polyklet. Doryphoros und Amazone (Tubingen, 1973).


Bernhard Schweitzer, "Xenocrates von Athen," Schriften der Konigsberger Gelehrten Gesellschaft, Geisteswissenschaftliche

Maser, "Dante and the History of Art: Reflections Inspired by Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Painting 'La Pia dTolomei,"' G. Buccellati and C. Speroni, eds.. The Shape of the Past: Studies in Honor of Franklin D. Murphy (Los Angeles, 1981); C. Gilbert, "Boccaccio Looking at Actual Frecoes," in G.P. Weisberg and L.S. Dixon, eds.. The Documented Image: Visions in Art History (Syracuse, 1987); Christiane L. Joost-Gangier, " Dante and the History of Art: The Case of a Tuscan Commune, Part II: The Sala del Consiglio at Lucignano," Artibus et Historiae 22 (1990).

Klasse 9, vol. 1 (1932). 5

F. Steinmann, Neue Studien zu den Gemaldebeschreibungen des dlteren Philostratus, diss., Zurich, 1914; K. Lehmann Hartleben, "The Imagines of the Elder Philostratus," The Art Bulletin (Mar. 1941); J.J. Pollitt, "The Art of Rome, 753 B.C.-337 a.d.," in Sources and Documents, (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1966), pp. 219-23; J.J. Pollitt, The Ancient View of Greek Art: Criticism, History and Ter¬ minology (New Haven, [1974] 1987).


Cornelius Gurlitt, Ueber Pausanias (Graz, 1890); Carl Robert, Pausanias als Schriftsteller (Berlin, 1909).


Lionello Venturi, "La critica d'arte e Francesco Petrarca," L'Arte 25 (1923); T. Mommsen, 'Petrarch's Conception of the Dark Ages," Speculum 33 (1958).




Floerke, Kiinstlemovellen der Renaissance (Munich, 1910).


Julius von Schlosser, Quellenbuch zur Kunstgeschichte des abendlandischen Mittelalters (Vienna, 1896), no. XLVIII.


Frey, Einleitung der Ausgabe des Anonymus Magliabecchiano (Berlin, 1892); G. Cald, Filippo Villiani (1904); Evert van den Grinten, Enquiries into the History of Art-Historical Writing. Studies of Art-Historical Functions and Terms up to 1850 (Amster¬ dam, 1955).


Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), pp. 91-98.


Paul O. Kristeller, The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino (New York, 1943); Andre Chastel, Marsilio Ficino et I'art (Geneva, 1954).


Erwin Panofsky, Idea (Berlin, [1924] 1960); Herman Bauer, Kunst und Utopie (Berlin, 1965), p. 29ff.


I. Behn-Krause, L.B. Alberti als Kunstphilosoph (Strasbourg, 1911); M.L. Gengaro, Leone Battista Alberti (Milan, 1938); Kenneth Clark, "L.B. Alberti on Painting," Proceedings of the British Academy 30 (1944); G. Hellmann, "Studien zur Terminologie der kunsttheoretischen Schriften L.B. Albertis," diss., Cologne, 1956; M. Gosebruch, "'Varieta' bei L.B. Alberti und der wissenschaftliche Renaissancebegriff," Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte 20 (1957); E.R. de Zurco, "Alberti's Theory of Form and Function," The Art Bulletin 39 (1957); Richard Krautheimer, "Albertis Templum Hetruscum," Kunstchronik 13 (1960), p. 364ff.


Julius von Schlosser, Ghiberti (Berlin, 1941); H. Kauffmann, "Ghiberti," Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen 50 (1929); C. Planscig, Lorenzo Ghiberti (Vienna, 1940); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), pp. 101-06.


Julius von Schlosser, Lorenzo Ghibertis Denkwiirdigkeiten (Berlin, 1912).


J.P. Richter, The Literary Works of Leonardo da Vinci (London, 1883); Lionello Venturi, La critica e I'arte di Leonardo da Vinci (Bo¬ logna, 1919); Erwin Panofsky, The Codex Huygens and Leonardo da Vincis Art Theory (London, 1940); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), pp. 161-98; Leonardo da Vinci, Philosophische T agebilcher, ed. Giuseppe Zamboni (Ham¬ burg, 1958); Kurt Badt, Kunsttheoretische Versuche (Cologne, 1968).



Eugene Muntz, Les historiens de Raphael (Paris, 1884); Herman Grimm, Das Leben Raphaels (Stuttgart, 1927); Oskar Fischel, Raphael (Berlin, 1962).


1918). 31

Scheurl also praised Cranach in a 1509 publication.


Erasmus also venerated Diirer as an artist and met once with him briefly in Brussels. Erwin Panofsky, '"Nebulae in Pariete,' Notes on Erasmus' Eulogy on Diirer," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 14 (1951), pp. 34-41.


Published together with the sequel by Andreas Gulden, after the manuscripts and with notations by G.W.K. Lochner, Vienna, 1875.


On Scheurl, Neudorfer, and Butzbach, see Anton Springer, "Der altdeutsche Holzschnitt und Kupferstich," Bilder aus der neueren Kunstgeschichte, vol. 2 (Bonn, 1867); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 1 ([Leipzig, 1921] Berlin, 1965), p. 13ff.



Ranftl, "Ueber die Kunstanschauung in Baldassare Castigliones Cortegiano," Jahresbericht des fiirsterzbischdflichen Gymnasiums am Knabenseminar in Graz (1907); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Let¬ teratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), p. 231ff.


Manacorda, Benedetto Varchi (1903); Eduard Fueter, Geschichte der neueren Historiographie (Munich and Berlin, 1936).


Anton Springer, "Das Ende der Renaissance," Bilder aus der neueren Kunstgeschichte, vol. 1 (Bonn, 1867); Giorgio Sinigaglia, Saggio di uno studio su Pietro Aretino (Rome, 1882); A. Schultheiss, 'Pietro Aretino," Zeitschrift fiir bildende Kunst (1991); Gauthiez, L Aretin (Paris, 1895); Karl Vossler, 'Pietro Aretinos kiinstlerisches Bekenntnis," Neue Heidelberger Jahrbiicher (1900); C. Bertani, Pietro Aretino (Sondrio, 1901); Joseph Gantner, Michelangelo, diss., Munich, 1922, p. 55ff.; Edward Hutton, Pietro Aretino: The Scourge of Princes (London, Bombay, and Sidney, 1922); Georg Weise, "Manieristische und friihbarocke Elemente in den religiosen Schriften des Pietro Aretino," Bibliotheque d'Humanisme et Ren¬ aissance 19 (1957); E. Camesasca, Lettere suit arte di Pietro Aretino (Milan, 1957-60).


Jurgen Schulz, "Vasari at Venice," The Burlington Magazine 103 (1961).


Die Kultur der Renaissance in Italien (Leipzig, 1928), p. 153.


Under Pius V (1566-1572), the young El Greco offered to paint the entire fresco anew, just as nice, yet less indecent. See Anthony Blunt, Artistic Theory on Italy 1450-1600 (Oxford, 1956), p. 119.


Joseph Gantner, Michelangelo, diss., Munich, 1922.

Heinrich Wolfflin, ed., Beitrdge zur Kunstgeschichte von Italien

A. von Zahn, Durers Kunstlehre (Leipzig, 1866); K. Lange and F. Fuhse, Durers schriftlicher Nachlass (Halle, 1893); E. Heidrich, A. Durers handschriftlicher Nachlass (Berlin, 1908); Erwin Panofsky, Durers Kunsttheorie (Berlin, 1915); Erwin Panofsky, "Durers Stellung zur Antike," Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte 1 (1921/22); Max Hauttmann, "Diirer und der Augsburger Antiken besitz," Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen 42 (1921); Georg Weise, Diirer und die Ideale der Humanisten (Tubingen, 1953); Hans Rupprich, Durers schriftlicher Nachlass, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1956); Friedrich Winkler, Albrecht Diirer. Leben und Werk (Berlin, 1957); Erwin Panofsky, The Life and Art of Albrecht Diirer (Princeton, 1971); Jan Bialostocki, "Vernunft und Ingenium in Durers kunsttheoretischem Denken," Zeitschrift des Deutschen Vereins fiir Kunstwissenschaft 25 (1971).



Ernst Benkard, Das literarische Portrdt des Giovanni Cimabue (Munich, 1917), p. 50ff.; Eugen Wolf, "Die allegorische Vergilerklarung des Cristoforo Landino," Neue Jahrbiicher fiir das klassische Altertum 43 (1919); Ottavio Morisani, "Cristoforo Lan¬ dino," The Burlington Magazine (1953).


Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956).


Published in Germany by Karl Frey, II Libro di Ant. Billi (Berlin, 1892); Ernst Benkard, Das literarische Portrdt des Giovanni Cimabue (Munich, 1917), p. 54ff.; Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), pp. 189-90.

See E. W. Palm, "Tenochtitlan y la Ciudad ideal de Diirer," Journal de la Societe des Americanistes n.s. (1951), p. 59ff.


The works of Jean Lemaire from the period aroung 1510 in the Netherlands should also be noted here. The title was La Couronne Margaritique; it was first published in Lyons in 1549.

(1930). 28

Veth and Mueller, Diirer niederlandische Reise (Berlin and Utrecht,


Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), p. 190ff.




The identification of Marcantonio Michiel as the Anonimo

Cellini (Florence, 1901); Henri Focillon, Benvenuto Cellini (Paris,

Morelliano was established by Theodor Frimmel in Morelliano. Marcanton Michiels notizia d'opere del disegno (Vienna, 1888).

1911); R.H.H. Cust, Benvenuto Cellini (London, [1912]); R. Corwegh, Benvenuto Cellini (Leipzig, 1912); Heinrich Klapsia, Benvenuto Cellini (Burg, 1943).

Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), p. 239ff.; E. Camesasca, Dialogo della pittura, new ed. (Milan, 1954).


A. Colasanti, "II Memoriale di Baccio Bandinelli," Repertorium fiir Kunstwissenschaft 28 (1905).


German edition from Albert Ilg, Von der hochedlen Malerei (Vienna, 1873); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), p. 243ff.


Bruno Mayer, "II frammento autobiografico di Raffaello da Montelupo e la 'Vita' di Benvenuto Cellini," in Problemi ed esperienze di critica letteraria (Siena, 1950), pp. 41-50.


F. Fossati, II museo gioviano (1892); idem., I ritratti del Museo Giovio (1893); E. Muntz, Le Musee de Paul Jove (Paris, 1900); A. Hagelstange, "Eine Folge von Holzschnittsportrats der Visconti von Mailand,'' Mitteilungen aus dem Germanischen Nationalmuseum (1904); Eduard Fueter, Geschichte der neueren Historiographie (Munich and Berlin, 1936); Joseph Gantner, "Michelangelo," diss., Munich, 1922.


Not to be confused with Vincenzo Borghini, the trusted friend of Vasari and advisor in all of his undertakings.


Anthony Blunt, Artistic Theory in Italy 1450-1600 (Oxford, 1956), p. 101; Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica, (Florence, 1956), p. 349ff.


W. von Obernitz, Vasaris allgemeine Kunstanschauung auf dem Gebiet der Malerei (1897); A.B. Hind, Vasari's Lives of the Painters, Sculptors and Architects (London and New York, 1900); Bernard Berenson, "Vasari in the Light of Recent Publications," in Study and Criticism of Italian Art (London, 1901); Kallab, Vasaristudien (Vienna, 1908); R.W. Carden, The Life of Giorgio Vasari (London, 1910); K. Frey, Der literarische Nachlass Giorgio Vasaris (Munich, 1923-30); Lionello Venturi, Pietro Aretino e Giorgio Vasari (Paris, 1924); C.L. Ragghiani, "II valore dell'opera Lionello Venturi," History of Art Criticism (New York, 1936); G. Poggi, 'Michelangelo e Vasari," II Vasari 4 (1938); Eugenio Battisti, "Note su alcuni biografi di Michelangelo," in Scritti di Storia dell'arte in Onore di Lionello Venturi, vol. 1 (Rome, 1956); Jurgen Schulz, "Vasari at Venice," The Burlington Magazine 103 (1961); Leopold Ettlinger, Art History Today (London, 1961); Peter Ward-Jackson, "Vasari, the Biographer," Apollo (May 1963); idem., "Vasari, the Critic," Apollo (June 1963); Einar Rud, Vasari's Life and Lives (London, 1963); Hans Belting, "Vasari und die Folgen," Historische Prozesse (1978).


Erwin Panofsky, "Das erste Blatt aus dem 'Libro' Giorgio Vasaris. Eine Studie liber die Beurteilung der Gotik in der italienischen Renaissance," Stddel-Jahrbuch 6 (1930), pp. 25-72.


Anthony Blunt, Artistic Theory in Italy 1450-1600 (Oxford, 1956).


The title changed characteristically: in 1550 it still read Le vite de' piu eccellenti architetti, pittori, e scultori... but in 1568 it read .. .pit-



Joseph Gantner, "Michelangelo," diss., Munich, 1922; Erwin Panof¬ sky, Idea (Berlin, 1960).


In Rivius, Vitruv teutsch, vol. 21 (1548).




Adolf Hauffen, Johan Fischart (Berlin and Leipzig, 1921); Friedrich Thone, "Johan Fischart als Verteidiger deutscher Kunst," Zeitschrift des Deutschen Vereins fiir Kunstwissenschaft (1934).


Melanchton had already noted the importance of Lucas Cranach's works, comparing him with Diirer.


Hans Sachs also occupied himself with the development of the art of his time. See Helene Henze, Die Allegorie bei Hans Sachs mit besonderer Berilcksichtigung ihrer Beziehungen zur graphischen Kunst (Halle, 1912); Fritz Strich, "Hans Sachs und die Renaissance,"

in Festschrift Hans R. Hahnloser (Basel and Stuttgart, 1961), pp. 361-72. 29


tion by Robert Grenaille (Paris, 1965) as Le livre de peinture. For further reading, see Greve, Die Bronnen von Carel van Mander (The Hague, 1903); R. Jacobsen, Carel van Mander, 1548-1601 (Rotterdam, 1906); R. Hoecker, Das Lehrgedicht des Karel van Mander (The Hague, 1916); O. Hirschmann, "Karel van Manders Haarlemer Akademie," Monatshefte fiir Kunstwissenschaft 9 (1918); E. Valentiner, Karel van Mander ah Maler (Strasbourg, 1930). 31

F. Asensio y Toledo, Francisco Pacheco, sus obras artisticas y literias (Seville, 1886); F. Rodriguez Marin, Francisco Pacheco, Maestro de Velazquez (Madrid, 1923).


Quoted from Heinz Ludecke and Susanne Heiland, eds., Dilrer und die Nachwelt (Berlin, 1955), p. 296.

A.F.G. Bell (London, 1928). See also Hans Tietze, "Francisco de Hollandas und Donato Gianottis Dialoge und Michelangelo," Reper¬


New edition, Pisa, 1823.

torium fiir Kunstwissenschaft 18 (1905); Os desenhos das an-


C. Guglielmo, "Intorno all'opera pittorica di Giovanni Baglione," Bolletino d'Arte (1954).


1956), pp. 281-85.

On Passeri, see J. Hess, ed.. Die Kilnstlerbiographien von Givanni Battista Passeri (Leipzig and Vienna, 1934). On Baldinucci, see Edward L. Goldberg, After Vasari: Art and Patronage in Late

E. Plon, Benvenuto Cellini (Paris, 1883/84); Karl Vossler, Cellinis

Medici Florence (Princeton, 1988).

wissenschaft (1897).


German edition by R. von Eitelberger, Vienna, 1874. Tractato de pintura antiqua (Lisbon, 1548); English translation by

tigualhas que vio Francisco d'Ollanda, pintor potugues (1539-1540). Publicalos con notas de estudio y preliminares E. Tormo (Madrid,

1940); Julius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Horence,


German edition by Hanns Floerke (Munich and Leipzig, 1906) as Das Leben der niederldndischen und deutschen Maler; French edi¬

Carl von Fabriczy, "Vite d'Artisti di Giovanni Battista Gelli," ReperKiinstlervite des Giovanni Battista Gelli," Repertorium fiir Kunst¬


Anton Springer, "Der altdeutsche Holzschnitt und Kupferstich," in Bilder aus der neueren Kunstgeschichte, vol. 2 (Bonn, 1867), p. 6.

One of Vasari's subsequent lesser works from about 1557 was published first in 1588 under the title Ragionamenti sopra le Invenzioni da lui dipinti nel Palazzo di Loro Altezze Serrenissimi.... It described his murals in Florence in the form of a dialogue.

torium fur Kunstwissenschaft (1896); Georg Gronau, "Zu den

Quoted from Heinz Ludecke and Susanne Heiland, eds., Dilrer und die Nachwelt (Berlin, 1955), p. 21.

tori, scultori, e architettori....


German edition translated by C. Cerri, edited by R. Eitelberger, Vienna, 1871; M.W. Roskill, Dolce's ‘‘Aretino" and the Venetian Art Theory of the Cinquecento (New York, 1968).

Stil in seiner Vita," in Festgabe fiir Grober (Halle, 1900); J.B. Supino,




L. Sponsels, Sandrarts teutsche Akademie (Dresden, 1896); A.R. Peltzer, ed., Teutsche Akademie der Edlen Bau- und MahlereyKiinste (Munich, 1925); Jullius Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica (Florence, 1956), p. 478ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 1 (Leipzig, 1921; Berlin, 1965), pp. 24-42.


Iconologia deorum, oder Abbildung der Gotter, welche von den Alten verehrt worden... (Nuremberg, 1680).


Probably inspired by Carlo Maratta, who in 1674 erected a memorial for Raphael in the Pantheon in Rome.


He also recognized Griinewald's importance and included him in the work.


J. Ver Huell, Houbraken et son oeuvre (Amheim, 1875); C. Hofstede de Groot, Arnold Houbraken und seine "Groote Schouburgh" (The Hague, 1893); Wilhelm Fraenger, Arnold Houbraken, der Geschichtsschreiber der hollandischen Malerei des 17. Jahrhunderts und die Mafitabe seiner Kunstkritik (Heidelberg, 1913).


E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 430-36; Kurt Bauch, Der fruhe Rembrandt und seine Zeit (Berlin, 1960); Henri Focillon, 'The Three Early Biographers," in Ludwig Goldscheider, Rembrandt, exh. cat. (London, 1960).


E. Moya Casals, El magno pinto empireo (Melilla, 1928).


Other Spanish art theorists include Vincencio Carducho (1576-1638) and Jusepe Martinez (1602-1682). Excerpted in E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 437-44, 450-53.

9 A. Fontaine, Les doctrines dart en France de Poussin a Diderot (Paris, 1909), pp. 41-60. 10

Ibid., pp. 120-56; Leon Mirot, Roger de Piles (Paris, 1924); Lionello Venturi, History of Art Criticism (New York, 1936), pp. 132-35; Bernard Teyssedre, Roger de Piles et les debats sur le colons au siecle de Louis XIV (Paris, 1957).


Clement de Ris, "La Balance des Peintres par Roger de Piles," Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1882); Susanne Heiland, "La Balance des Peintres," in Festschrift Johannes Jahn zum 22.11.1957 (Leipzig, 1957); Sarah G. Bradford, Roger de Piles as Critic and the “Balance des Pein¬ tres'' (New York, 1959).


R.A.M. Stevenson, Peter Paul Rubens (New York, 1939); E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 417-29.


Roger de Piles was indeed educated as a painter, but in addition to his diplomatic contracts, he devoted himself more and more to his writing.


Before Roger de Piles, Charles Alphonse Dufrenoy (1611-1668) had already championed both Rubens and the importance of color in his work "De arte graphica." De Piles was the translator and editor of Dufresnoy's writings after the author's death: excerpts can be found in E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 395-404.


Roger de Piles had already praised the work of Pieter Bruegel.


Herbert Butterfield, Man on His Past: The Study of the History of Historical Scholarship (Cambridge, 1955).


Concerning artistic instruction around 1600, see Karl BirchHirschfeld, Die Lehre von der Malerei im Cinquecento (Rome, 1912); Rensselaer Lee, "Ut Pictura Poesis: The Humanistic Theory of Painting," The Art Bulletin 22 (1940); Anthony Blunt, Artistic Theory in Italy 1450-1600 (Oxford, 1956); and Erwin Panofsky, Idea (Berlin, 1960); Avigdor W.G. Poseq, 'The Terribilissima Arte' of Foreshortening in the Mannierist Theory of Art," in Norm and Variation in Art, Essays in Honor of Moshe Barasch (Jerusalem,


Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen, vol. 1 (Leipzig, 1923), p. 246ff.; K. Heinrich von Stein, Die Entstehung der neueren Aesthetik (Stuttgart, 1886); O. Walzel, Das Prometheussymbol von Shaftesbury zu Goethe (Leipzig, 1910); Chr. F. Weiser, Shaftesbury und das deutsche Geistesleben (Leipzig, 1916); Erwin Panofsky, Her¬ cules am Scheidewege (Leipzig and Berlin, 1930); John H. Muirhead, The Platonic Tradition in Anglo-Saxon Philosophy (New York, 1931); Ernst Cassirer, "Shaftesbury und die Renaissance des Platonismus in England," Vortrage der Bibliothek Warburg 1 (1930/31 [Leipzig, 1932]); Edgar Wind, "Shaftesbury as a Patron of Art," Journal of the Warburg Institute 2 (1938/39).


Gottfried Baumecker, Winckelmann in seinen Dresdner Schriften (Berlin, 1933), p. 40


Ernst Cassirer, "Shaftesbury und die Renaissance des Platonismus in England," Vortrage der Bibliothek Warburg 1 (1930/31 [Leip¬ zig, 1932]).


Evert van den Grinten (Enquiries into the History of Art-Historical Writing [Amsterdam, 1955]), sought to prove that Richardson was the first to have conceptualized art history in 1719, though P.

1983). 2

Joseph Gantner, "Michelangelo," diss., Munich, 1922.


Werner Korte, Der Palazzo Zuccari in Rom (Leipzig, 1935); E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 270-74.


Walter Friedlander, Nicolas Poussin (Munich, 1914); Anthony Blunt, "Poussin's Notes on Painting," Journal of the Warburg Insti¬ tute 1 (1937/38); E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 366-84; Jan Bialostocki, Poussin i Teoria Klasycyzmu (Wroclaw, 1953); Andre Chastel, Nicholas Poussin, 2 vols. (Paris, 1958); M. Demsey, "Poussin and Egypt," The Art Bulletin (1963); Kurt Badt, Die Kunst des Nicolas Poussin (Col¬ ogne, 1969).


tini, Le vite inedite del Bellori (Rome, 1942); John Kenneth Donahue, "Notes on Giovanni Pietro Bellori," M.A. thesis. Institute of Fine Arts, New York, 1942; and idem., "The Ingenious Bellori' —a Biographical Study," Marsyas 3 (1945). 6

Translated by Kurt Gerstenberg, Berlin, 1939.


Henri Chardon, Les Freres Freart de Chantelou (Le Mans, 1867); Wilhelm Fraenger, Arnold Houbraken (Heidelberg, 1913).


Hans Rose, ed., Tagebuch des Herm von Chantelou ilber die Reise des Cavaliere Bernini nach Frankreich (Munich, 1919); E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 360-65.


Monier had already titled his 1698 work "Histoire des Arts...."

Erwin Panofsky, Idea (Berlin, 1960). On Bellori, see M. Piacen5

Joseph Burke, Hogarth and Reynolds (Oxford, 1943); William Hogarth, The Analysis of Beauty, ed. Joseph Burke (Oxford, 1955); Ronald Paulson, Hogarth's Graphic Works (London, 1965).


On Reynolds and his contribution to art history, see Leslie Taylor, Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds (London, 1862); Paul Ortlepp, Sir Joshua Reynolds (Strasbourg, 1907); Edgar Wind, "Humanitatsidee und heroisiertes Portrat in der englischen Malerei des 18. Jahrhunderts," Vortrage der Bibliothek Warburg 1 (1930/31 [Leipzig, 1932]); W.H. Hilles, The Literary Career of Sir Joshua Reynolds (Cambridge, 1936); Ellis K. Waterhouse, Reynolds (London, 1941); W.J. Hippie, "General and Particular in the


Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds: A Study in Method," The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 2 (1952/53), pp. 231-47; W.R. Juynboll, "De reis van Sir Joshua Reynolds in de Nederlanden," in Varia historica aangeboden aan A.W. Byvanck (1954), pp. 176-85; Derek Hudson, Sir Joshua Reynolds (Fair Lawn, N.J., 1959); George Boas, "Joshua Reynolds as Arbiter," Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1961). 7


Marcel Braunschvig, LAbbe Du Bos renovateur de la critique au XVIJIe siecle (Toulouse, 1902); Andre Fontaine, Les doctrines dart en France de Poussin a Diderot (Paris, 1909); A. Lombard, LAbbe Du Bos: Un initiateur de la pensee moderne, 1670-1742 (Paris, 1913); Ernst Cassirer, Die Philosophie des Aufkldrung (Tubingen, 1932); Eduard Fueter, Geschichte der neueren Historiographie (Munich and Berlin, 1936); Ludwig Tavernier, "Apropos Illusion; Jean Baptiste Dubos' Einfiihrung eines Begriffs in die franzosische Kunstkritik des 18. Jahrhunderts," Pantheon (April/May/June 1984), p. 158.


Dorffel, "Johann Friedrich Christ, sein Leben und seine Schriften," diss., Leipzig, 1878; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker von Sandrart bis Rumohr, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1965), pp. 45-51.


Striibel, Christian Ludwig von Hagedorn. Ein Diplomat und Sammler des. 18. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig, 1912); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker von Sandrart bis Rumohr, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1965), pp. 94-103.


His brother was the anacreontic poet Friedrich von Hagedorn (1708-1754).


Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1923).


Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker von Sandrart bis Rumohr (Berlin, 1965), pp. 287-92.


Concerning the authority of Vasari, see Kleine Schriften 1 (Got¬ tingen, 1803).

Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1923); S. Rocheblave, Essai sur le Comte de Caylus (Paris, 1889); Francis Henry Taylor, The Taste of Angels (London, 1948).


Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen (Leipzig, 1923).


A. Fontaine, Les doctrines dart en France de Poussin d Diderot (Paris, 1909); Werner Leo, "Diderot als Kunstphilosoph," diss., Konigsberg, 1918; Victor Johanson, Etudes sur Diderot (Paris and Goteborg, 1928); Herbert Dieckmann, Stand und Probleme der Diderot-Forschung (Bonn, 1931); Andre Billy, Vie de Diderot (Paris, 1948); Yvon Belaval, LEstetique sans paradoxe de Diderot (Paris, 1950); Rudolf Zeitler, Klassizismus und Utopie (Stockholm, 1954); J. Seznec, Essais sur Diderot et LAntiquite (Oxford, 1957); J. Seznec and J. Adhemar, Diderots Salons, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1957-63); Florens Deuchler, "Diderots Traktat fiber das Schone," Jahrbuch fur Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft 3 (1955-57 [Stuttgart, 1958]); Francois Fosca, De Diderot a Valery (Paris, 1960), p. 145ff.; Otis Fellows, ed., Diderot Studies (Geneva, 1965); Jozsef Szigeti, Denis Diderot, une grande figure du materialisme militant du XVIII siecle (Budapest, 1965); James A. Leith, The Idea of Art as Prop¬ aganda in France 1750-1799: A Study in the History of Ideas (Toronto, 1965), p. 27ff.; J. Seznec, "Falconet, Diderot et le BasRelief," in Walter Friedlander zum 90. Geburtstag (Berlin, 1965); A. Brookner, The Genius of the Future (London, 1971); M. Fried, Absorption and Theatrality: Painting and Beholder in the Age of Diderot (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London, 1980).


"Diderots Versuch fiber die Malerei," translated by Goethe and with footnotes, Propylaen 1 (1799).


Georg Witkowski, Goethe und Falconet. Studien zur Literaturgeschichte. Michael Bemays gewidmet (1893); E. Hildebrandt, Falconet (Strasbourg, 1908); L. Reau, Etienne Maurice Falconet, 2 vols. (1922); H. Dieckmann and . J. Seznec, "The Horse of Mar¬ cus Aurelius, A Controversy between Diderot and Falconet," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 15 (1952); Jean Seznec, "Falconet, Diderot et le Bas-Relief," in Walter Friedlander zum 90.




As Richard Forster noted (see note 2, p. 159), "neither the sensa¬ tion, nor the results from this work have been matched in the history of discovery."


O. Ollendorf, "Der Laokoon und Michelangelo gefesselter Sklave," Repertorium fur Kunstwissenschaft (1898).


The composition is recorded in a woodcut, illustrated in: G.E. Less¬ ing, Laokoon, ed. Jan Bialostocki (Paris, 1964), p. 107.


In his "Essay on the Theory of Painting" (1719).


G. Baumecker, Winckelmann in seinen Dresdner Schriften (Berlin, 1933), p. 134.


A copy of the Laocoon was in Dresden by 1748. See Johann Gott¬ fried Lipsius, Beschreibung der kurfurstlichen Antikengalerie Dresden (Dresden, 1748), p. 135, no. 23: 'The copy of the Laocoon group from Antiquity is presumably by Massue [Gaspard Marsy] and entered the collection via Count Wackerbarth."


Hugo Bliimner, ed., Lessings Laokoon (Berlin, 1880); Heinrich Fischer, Lessings Laokoon und die Gesetzd, der bildenden Kunst (Berlin, 1887); Heinrich Pudor, Laokoon. Kunsttheoretische Essays (Leipzig, 1902); August Schmarsow, Erlduterungen und Kommentar zu Lessings Laokoon (Leipzig, 1907); Irving Babbitt, The New Lao-

Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1923).




Ugo Segre, Luigi Lanzi e le sue opere (Assisi, 1904); Guglielmo Pac¬ chioni, "II Lanzi e le 'scuole pittoriche'," in Scritti di Storia dell'arte in Onore di Lionello Venturi, vol. 2 (Rome, 1956).


Published Vienna, 1721. An expanded edition was published in 1725; and a facsimile reprint in 1964 (Ridgewood, N.J.).


Richard Forster, "Laokoon im Mittelalter und in der Renaissance," Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen 27 (1906).

Geburtstag (Berlin, 1965). 13

On the Laocoon, its discovery, and early impact, see Valentin, "Einiges zur Kritik der Laokoongruppe," Berichte des freien Deutschen Hochstiftes 11 (1895); O. Ollendorf, "Der Laokoon und Michel¬ angelos gefesselter Sklave," Repertorium fur Kunstwissenschaft (1898); Richard Forster, "Laokoon im Mittelalter und in der Ren¬ aissance," Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen 27 (1906); Heinz Ladendorf, Antikenstudium und Antikenkopie (Berlin, 1958); Robert Emmet Ginna, "The Cave of Tiberius," Horizon (May 1959); F. Magi, II ripristino del Laokoonte (Rome, 1960); M. Bieber, The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age (New York, 1961); L.D. Ettlinger, "Exemplum Doloris: Relections on the Laocoon Group," in De Artibus Opuscula: Essays in Honor of Erwin Panofsky (New York, 1961); W. Helbig, Filhrer durch die offentlichen Sammlungen in Rom (Tubingen, 1963); H. Sichtermann, "Der widerhergestellte Lao¬ koon," Gymnasium 70, (1963); and idem., Laokoon (Stuttgart, 1964).

coon (Boston and New York, 1910), F.O. Nolte, Lessings Laokoon (Lancaster, 1940); Claudio Schaefer, "El sentido y los origines de la teoria de arte de G.E. Lessing," Revista Nacional Litteratura, arte, sciencia 28 (1944), pp. 40-76; E.G. Holt, Literary Sources of Art

Hans Sedlmayr, Fischer von Erlach d. Ae. (Munich, 1925).



Kunstwerk (Berlin, 1957); Frederick Will, Intelligible Beauty in Aesthetic Thought from Winckelmann to Victor Cousin (Tubingen, 1958); W. Rehm, A. Schulz, et al., Beitrage zur Gestalt Winckel¬

History (Princeton, 1947), pp. 535-41; E.H. Gombrich, Lessing (London, 1957); Elida Maria Szarota, Lessings Laokoon (Weimar, 1959); Jan BiaZostocki, ed., Lessing: Laokoon (Paris, 1964). 10

manns (Berlin, 1958); Horst Rudiger, ed., Winckelmanns Tod, die Originalberichte (1959); Ingrid Creuzer, Studien zu Winckelmanns Aesthetik. Normativitdt und historisches Bewusstsein (Berlin, 1959);

K.O. Jessen, Heinses Stellung zur bildenden Kunst (Berlin, 1901); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, "Kunstkritik aus Sturm und Drang," Cicerone (1919); Herbert Koch, "Zu Wilhem Heinses Antikenbeschreibung," in Festschrift Wilhelm Waetzoldt (Berlin, 1941).


In Lobschrift auf Winckelmann (Kassel, 1778).


Heinrich Keller, Goethe und das Laokoon-Problem (Frauenfeld and Leipzig, (1935)); Max Wegner, Goethes Anschauung antiker Kunst

Heinrich Alexander Stoll, Winckelmann, seine Verleger und seine DruckerfBerlin, 1960); Walter Bosshard, Winckelmann, Aesthetik der Mitte (Zurich and Stuttgart, 1960); Leopold Ettlinger, Art History Today (London, 1961); Arthur Schulz, Winckelmann und seine Welt (Berlin, 1962); W. Leppmann, Winckelmann (New York, 1970) ; N. Himmelmann, Winckelmanns Hermeneutik (Mainz, 1971) ; Alex Potts, "Winckelmanns Construction of History," Art

(Berlin, 1944), p. 69ff. 13

Brahm, Karl Stauffer-Bem (Stuttgart, 1892), p. 243. CHAPTER V

1 Among the many studies devoted to Winckelmann and his writings, see Eduard Gerhard, Festgedanken an Winckelmann (Berlin, 1841); Carljusti, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen (Leipzig, [1866-72] 1923); K. Bernhard Stark, Johann Joachim Winckelmann. Sein Bildungsgang und seine bleibende Bedeutung (Berlin, 1867); Walter Pater, Studies in the History of the Renaissance (London, 1873); "Winckelmann. Et Ego in Arcadia," in Die Renaissance, Studien in Kunst und Poesie, 2d ed. (Jena and Leipzig, 1906), pp. 222-88; Arnold E. Berger, "Der junge Herder und Winckelmann," in Stu¬ dien zur deutschen Philologie (Halle, 1903); Geiger, "Das Wort 'Geschichte' und seine Zusammensetzungen," diss., Freiburg, 1908; Eduard Fueter, Geschichte der neueren Historiographie, (Munich and Berlin, [1911] 1936); Richard Hermann, "Winckelmann und die kanonische Auffassung der antiken Kunst," Internationale Monatsschrift 7 (1913); Ernst Heidrich, Beitrage zur Geschichte und Methode der Kunstgeschichte (Basel, 1917); Helene Stocker, "Zur Kunstanschauung des 18. Jahrhunderts von Winckelmann bis Wackenroder," Palastra 26 (1917); H. Tiersch, Winckelmann und seine Bildnisse (Munich, 1918); A. Koster, "Johann Joachim Winckelmann/' Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst 29 (1918); Hubert Ermisch, "Winckelmann und Sachsen," Neues Archiv fur Sdchsiche Geschichte, vol. 39 (Dresden, 1918); M.G. Zimmermann, Winckel¬ mann, der Klassizismus und die markische Kunst (Leipzig, 1918); H.G. Evers, "Studien zu Winckelmanns Stil," diss., Gottingen, 1924; Maria Muller, "Untersuchung zur Sprache Winckelmanns," diss., Leipzig, 1926; F. Noack, "Nachrichten liber Winckelmann und Mengs," Belvedere 13 (1928); Kurt Gerstenberg, Johann Joachim Winckelmann und Anton Raphael Mengs (Halle, 1929); Erich Aaron, "Die deutsche Erweckung des Griechentums durch Winckel¬ mann und Herder," diss., Heidelberg, 1929; Maria Deez, Anschauung von italienischer Kunst in der deutschen Literatur von Winckelmann bis zur Romantik (Berlin, 1930); Georg Karo, "Johann Joachim Winckelmann," Mitteldeutsche Lebensbilder 5 (Magdeburg, 1930); Bertold Vallentin, Winckelmann (Berlin, 1931); Gottfried Baumecker, Winckelmann in seinen Dresdner Schriften (Berlin, 1933); Charlotte Ephraim, Wandel des Griechenbildes im 18. Jahrhundert (Bern, 1936); L. Curtius, Winckelmann und seine Nachfolge (Vienna, 1941); Walther Rehm, Winckelmann und Lessing (Berlin, 1941); Wolfgang Schadewaldt, Winckelmann und Homer (Leipzig, 1941); Henry Caraway Hatfield, Winckelmann and His German Critics, 1775 until 1781 (New York, 1943); H. Koch, Winckelmann und Goethe in Rom (Tubingen, 1950); Walther Rehm, ed., Briefe Winckelmanns, 4 vols. (Berlin, 1952); Arthur Schulz, Die Bildnisse Winckelmanns (Berlin, 1953); Rudolph Zeitler, Klassizismus und Utopia (Stockholm, 1954); Hans-Giinther Thalheim, "Zeitkritik und Wunschbild im Werk des friihen Winckelmann," diss., Jena, 1954; Bernhilde Jutz-Landwehrmeyer, "Die Gestalt Winckelmanns in der Literatur," diss., Freiburg, 1955; Horst Rudiger, Winckelmann und ltalien (Krefeld, 1956); A. Koch, Winckelmann. Sprache und


History (Dec. 1982); Gert. Schiff, ed., German Essays on Art History (New York, 1988). 2

A. Durr, Adam Friedrich Oeser. Ein Beitrag zur Kunstgeschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig, 1879); F. Schulze, Adam Friedrich Oeser. Der Vorldufer des Klassizismus (Stuttgart, 1952).


A. Pilger, Georg Raphael Donner (Vienna, 1929).


See Bruyere, Les characteres ou les moeurs de ce siecle (Amster¬ dam, 1701).


Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine Zeitgenossen (Leipzig, [1866-72] 1923); G. Schillings, "Anton Raphael Mengs' Schriften und ihr Einfluss auf Lessing und Goethe," Zeitschrift fur vergleichende Literaturgeschichte, n.f. 6 (1893); Ulrich Christoffel, Der schriftliche Nachlass des Anton Raphael Mengs (Basel, 1918); Wilhem Waet¬ zoldt, "Mengs als Kunsthistoriker," Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst 54 (1919); Kurt Gerstenberg, Johann Joachim Winckelmann und Anton Rafael Mengs (Halle, 1929); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker von Sandrart bis Rumohr (Berlin, 1965); Dieter Honisch, Anton Rafael Mengs und die Bildform des Friihklassizismus (Recklinghausen, 1965).


Letter of September 1, 1756.


This does not mean that Winckelmann would have resorted to deception. Cavaceppi and Mengs successfully deceived him.


Winckelmann wrote to Stosch on November 15, 1766, about Less¬ ing: "This person has such minimal insight that no answer would be of consequence to him. It would be easier to explain common sense from Uckermark than an educated joke, which is distinguished by paradoxes...."


Winckelmann also collaborated with the engraver Casanova on the Monumenti antichi inediti spiegati ed illustrati da Giovanni Win¬ ckelmann. It appeared in Rome in 1767. As noted by Horst Rudiger (in Winckelmann in ltalien [Cologne, 1956]), "If art history ushered in a new epoch of historical morphological developmental thought, it would mean that the systematically arranged Monumenti was the beginning of actual archeological methods and hermeneutics, despite its shortcomings and oversights." •


The first French edition of 1766 was not accepted by Winckelmann because of the poor translation.


Johann Hermann von Riedesel (1740-1785) tried to persuade Winckelmann to go on a trip to Greece and to give up the trip through Germany. The inexplicable division in Winckelmanns character, which led H. Segelken to assume a depressive psycho¬ neurosis, displayed itself. Winckelmann did not take up the offer.


Cavaceppi was primarily occupied with restoring classical statues. He was a collector and dealer of classical art.


Horst Rudiger, ed., Winckelmanns Tod, Die Originalberichte (1959).



Hans-Georg Gadamer, Die Aktualitdt des Schonen (Stuttgart, 1977), p. 23. For further reading on Kant's aesthetic, see Hermann Cohen, Kants Begriindung der Aesthetik (Berlin, 1889); Eugen Kiihnemann, Kants und Schillers Begriindung der Aesthetik (Munich, 1895); Georg Rosenthal, "Der Schdnheitsbegriff bei Kant und Lessing," Kantstudien 20 (1915); Walter Biemel, "Die Bedeutung von Kants Begriindung der Aesthetik fur die Philosophic der Kunst," Kant¬ studien, supp. issue 77 (1959); M. Podro, The Manifold Percep¬ tion: Theories of Art from Kant to Hildebrand (Oxford, 1972); K. Kuypels, Kants Kunsttheorie (Amsterdam and London, 1972); Jacques Derrida, "Parergon," La verite en peinture (1978); J. Kulenkampf, Kants Logik des dsthetischen Urteils (Frankfurt, 1978); Salim Kemal, Kant and Fine Art: An Essay on Kant and the Philosophy of Fine Art and Culture (Oxford and New York, 1986); Mary McCloskey, Kant's Aesthetics (New York, 1987).


August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Vorlesungen iiber schone Literatur und Kunst (Berlin, 1801-02).


Eugen Kiihnemann, Kants und Schillers Begriindung der Aesthetik (Munich, 1895); Oskar Walzel, "Schiller und die Kunst," Marbacher Schillerbuch 1 (1905); Eduard Castle, "Winckelmannsche Anregungen bei Schiller," Prager Deutsche Studien 9 (1908); A. Lewkowitz, Hegels Aesthetik im Verhaltnis zu Schiller (Leipzig, 1910); A. Tenenbaum, "Kants Aesthetik und ihr Einfluss auf Schiller," diss., Berlin, 1933; Eva Schaper, "Friedrich Schiller: Adventures of a Kantian," British Journal of Aesthetics 4 (1964); Wolfgang Wittkowski, ed., Friedrich Schiller: Kunst, Humanitdt und Politik in der sp'aten Aufklarung, a collection of symposium papers (Tubingen, 1982).


Helmut Kuhn, Die Vollendung der klassischen deutschen Aesthetik durch Hegel (Berlin, 1931).


August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Vorlesungen iiber schone Literatur und Kunst (Berlin, 1801-02).


G. Faden, Der Schein des Kunst: Heideggers Kritik des Aesthetik (Wiirzburg, 1986), p. 41. See also Erich Rothacker, Einleitung in die Geisteswissenschaften (Tiibingen, 1930); Helmut Kuhn, Die Vollendung der klassischen deutschen Aesthetik durch Hegel (Berlin, 1931); Georg Lukacz, Der junge Hegel (1948); Filippo Puglisi, L'estetica di Hegel e i suoi presupposti teoretici (Padua, 1953); Giovanni Vecchi, L'estetica di Hegel (Milan, 1956); Bernard Teyssedre, L'estetique de Hegel (Paris, 1958); Jack Kaminsky, Hegel on Art: An Interpretation of Hegels Aesthetics (Albany, 1962); Henri Lauene, Die Sprache in der Philosophic Hegels (Bern, 1962); Martin Heidegger, "Vom Ursprung des Kunstwerkes," Holzwege (Frankfurt, 1977), p. 68; Werner Koepsel, Die Rezeption der Hegelschen Aesthetik im 20. Jahrhundert (Bonn, 1975).


Charles Saunier, Les conquetes artistiques de la Revolution et de TEmpire (Paris, 1902); Lothar Brieger, Die grossen Kustsammler (Berlin, 1931); Pierre Lelievre, Vivant Denon (Paris, 1942).


G. Sforza, "Ennio Quirino Visconti e la sua famiglia," in Atti della societa lig. di storia patria (Genoa, 1923).


A.R. Smith, "Lord Elgin and His Collection," Journal of Hellenistic Studies 36 (1916); Francis Henry Taylor, The Taste of Angels (London, 1948).


Byron, who also lived in Athens during those years, directed a sharp attack on Elgin, whom he accused of pillaging Greece, in his poem "Course of Minerva."


B.R. Haydon studied and sketched the sculptures and inspired his friend Keats to do so as well. It is highly probable that the Greek originals heavily influenced Keats' poetry. See Frederick Cumm¬

ings, "Phidias in Bloomsbury: B.R. Haydon's Drawings of the Elgin Marbles," The Burlington Magazine 106 (1964), pp. 323-28. 12

Through the efforts of Jakob Linckh, Karl Freiherr von Hallerstein and Otto Magnus von Stackelberg, the sculptures from the temple on Aegina came to Munich a little later.


H. Jouin, A.-C. Quatremere de Quincy (Paris, 1892); R. Schneider, L'estetique classique chez Quatremere de Quincy (Paris, 1910); Rudolph Zeitler, Klassizismus und Utopia (Stockholm, 1954); Frederick Will, "Two Critics of the Elgin Marbles: William Hazlitt and Quatremere de Quincy," The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 14 (1956); Helen Rosenau, The Ideal City (London, 1959), p. 115ff.


Georg Leitzmann, Georg und Therese Forster und die Bruder Hum¬ boldt (Bonn, 1936); Heinrich Reintjes, Weltreise nach Deutschland (Diisseldorf, 1953).


Herbert von Einem, Carl Ludwig Femow (Berlin, 1935); idem., "Carl Ludwig Femow," in Neue deutsche Biographie, vol. 5 (Berlin, 1961), p. 98f.


Johanna Schopenhauer, Carl Ludwig Fernows Leben, vol. 2 (Tub¬ ingen, 1810), p. 144ff.; Edgar Wind, Art and Anarchy (New York, 1964), p. 172 and n. 148. On Fernow's opinion about the artist, see especially Fernow's article "Ueber die Begeisterung des Kiinstlers," Romische Studien 1, no. 2 (1806), p. 269.


Hans Tietze, Die Methode der Kunstgeschichte (Leipzig, 1913), pp. 83ff., 240ff.; Rudolf Zeitler, Klassizismus und Utopia (Stockholm, 1954); James A. Leith, The Idea of Art as Propaganda in France 1750-1799: A Study in the History of Ideas (Toronto, 1965), p. 96ff.


Leopoldo Cicognara, Memorie intomo all' intorno e agli scritti die Francesco Milizia (Pisa, 1808); Joseph Ganter, Michelangelo (Munich, 1922); Rudolf Zeitler, Klassizismus und Utopia (Stockholm, 1954); Eva Brues, "Die Schriften des Francesco Milizia," Jahrbuch fiir Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft 6 (1961).


The piece was also published in Halle in 1785 in a German transla¬ tion by C.F. Prange, under the title "Die Beurteilung des Schonen in den zeichnenden Kunsten nach den Grundsatzen eines Sulzer und Mengs." CHAPTER VII


Chr. Schuchardt, Goethes Kunstsammlungen (Jena, 1848); O. Linke, Grundziige einer Kunstwissenschaft im Sinne Goethes (Halle, 1877); Andreas Heusler, Goethe und die italienische Kunst (Basel, 1891); Theodor Volbehr, Goethe und die bildende Kunst (Leipzig, 1895); Eduard Castle, "Winckelmanns Kunsttheorie in Goethes Fortbildung," Zeitschrift fiir das osterreichische Gymnasium 59 (1908); Erich Hancke, "Faustillustrationen von Eugene Delacroix," Kunst und Kiinstler 8 (1910); V.C. Habicht, "Findlinge zum Thema Goethe und die bildende Kunst," Monatshefte fiir Kunstwissenschaft 2 (1918); Wilhelm Junius, "Goethe als Denkmalpfleger'," Kunstchronik (1922); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965); Franz Koch, "Goethe und der deutsche Idealismus," Euphorion (1932); Max Liebermann, "Goethes Ver¬ haltnis zur bildenden Kunst," Kunst und Kiinstler 31 (1933); Walther Rehm, Griechentum und Goethezeit (1936); Curt Muller, "Die geschichtlichen Voraussetzungen des Symbolbegriffs in Goethes Kunstanschauung," Paldstra 211 (1937); Gunther Meinert, "Goethes Beitrag zur Entstehung der Kunstwissenschaft," Goethe 3 (1938); Johannes Urzidil, "Goethe and Art," The Germanic Review 24 (1949); Otto Stelzer, Goethe und die bildende Kunst (Brunswick, 1949); C. Weickert, Die Baukunst in Goethes Werk (Berlin, 1952); Rudolf Zeitler, Klassizismus und Utopia (Stockholm, 1954); Wilhelm Hausenstein, "Goethe und die Macht der Kunst," in Um-



kreis der Kunst, Preetorius-Festschrift (Wiesbaden, 1954); Herbert

roder, Tieck und die bildende Kunst. Grundlegung der romantischen

von Einem, Beitrdge zu Goethes Kunstauffassung (Hamburg, 1956); Mattijs Jolles, Goethes Kunstanschauung (Bern, 1957); Theodor Hetzer, "Goethe und die bildende Kunst," in Aufsdtze und Vortrdge (Leipzig, 1957); Paul Menzer, Goethes Aesthetik (Cologne, 1957);

Aesthetik (Zurich, 1965). 6

E. Sulger-Gebing, Die Bruder Schlegel und ihr Verhaltnis zur Kunst (Munich, 1897); A. Deniselle, "Friedrich Schlegel als romantisher Theoretiker und die Antike," diss., Jena, 1930; Liselotte Dieckmann, "Friedrich Schlegel and Romantic Concepts of the Symbol," Ger¬ manic Review 34 (1951); Helmut Schanze, ed. Friedrich Schlegel und die Kunsttheorie seiner Zeit (Darmstadt, 1985).


Athendum, vol. 1, part 2, p. 45.


Eduard Firmenich-Richartz, Sulpiz Boisseree und Melchior Boisseree als Kunstsammler (Jena, 1916); Kurt Karl Eberlein, "Johann Friedrich Bohmer und dir Kunstwissenschaft der Nazarener," in Festschrift

Walter G. Oschilewski, Goethe und die bildende Kunst (Berlin, 1957); Maurice Marache, Le symbole dans la pensee de Goethe (Paris, 1960); Francois Fosca, De Diderot a Valery (Paris, 1960), p. 28ff.; William S. Heckscher, "Goethe im Berich der Sinnbilder," Jahrbuch der Hamburger Kunstsammlungen 7 (1962); John Gage, Goethe on Art (London, 1980). 2

Anna Tumarkin, Der Aesthetiker Johann Georg Sulzer (Frauenfeld and Leipzig, 1933).


Reinhard Liess, Goethe vor dem Strafiburger Munster (Leipzig and Weinheim, 1985). George Forster was able to appreciate the interior of a Gothic cathedral (Cologne) twenty years later.




fur Adolph Goldschmidt (Leipzig, 1923). 9

E. Maass, Goethe und die Antike (1912); Heinrich Wolfflin, "Goethes italienische Reise und der Begriff der klassischen Kunst," Kunstchronik 49/50 (1932); Max Wegner, Goethes Anschauung antiker Kunst (Berlin, 1944); Theodor Hetzer, "Ueber Goethes italienische Reise," in Aufsdtze und Vortrdge (Leipzig, 1957). E. Naef, "Karl Philipp Moritz, seine Aesthetik und ihre menschlichen und weltanschaulichen Grundlagen," diss., Zurich, 1930; Wilhelm Oehrens, 'TJeber einige asthetische Grundbegriffe bei Karl Philipp Moritz," diss., Hamburg, 1936. Otto Harnack, "Goethe und Heinrich Meyer," Preussische Jahrbiicher (1889); E. von dem Hagen, Goethe ah Herausgeber von Kunst und Altertum und seine Mitarbeiter (Berlin, 1912); Max Hecker, ed., Goethes Briefwechsel mit Heinrich Meyer (Weimar, 1917). The picture in Heidelberg, which was admired by Goethe, was later attributed to Rogier van der Weyden.

of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 10 (1947). 10

Francois Fosca, De Diderot a Valery (Paris, 1960), p. 113ff.


Adolph Cornill, Johann David Passavant (Frankfurt, 1864/65); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Leipzig, [1924] 1965); Kurt Karl Eberlein, "Johann Friedrich Bohmer und die Kunstwissenschaft der Nazarener," in Festschrift filr Adolph Goldschmidt (Leipzig, 1923); and A.K. Andrews, The Nazarenes (Oxford, 1964).


W.G. Collingwood, The Art Teaching of John Ruskin (London, 1891); idem.. The Life and Work of John Ruskin (London, 1893); G.M. Scalinger, L'Estetica di Ruskin (Naples, 1900); Paul Clemen, "John Ruskin," Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst 2 (1900); Charlotte Broicher, John Ruskin und sein Werk, 3 vols. (Leipzig, 1902-07); Marie von Bunsen, John Ruskin: Sein Leben und sein Wirken (Leip¬ zig, 1903); G.B. Shaw, Ruskin's Politics (London, 1919); A. Williams-Ellis, The Tragedy of John Ruskin (London, 1928); H. Ladd, The Victorian Morality of Art (New York, 1932); R.H. Wilen-


Austin Dobson, Horace Walpole (New York, 1890); Wilmarth Sheldon Lewis, Horace Walpole (Washington, D.C., 1961).


J. Minor, Johan Georg Hamann (1881); Rudolf Unger, Hamann und die Aufklarung (1911); Hermann Schliiter, Das PygmalionSymbol bei Rousseau, Hamann, Schiller (Zurich, 1968).




ski, John Ruskin: An Introduction to the Further Study of His Life and Works (London, 1933); Kenneth Clark, Ruskin in Oxford (Ox¬ ford, 1947); D. Leon, Ruskin: The Great Victorian (London, 1949); Virginia Woolf, "Ruskin," in The Captain's Deathbed (London, 1950); Joan Evans, John Ruskin (New York, 1954); Solomon

Arnold E. Berger, Der junge Herder und Winckelmann, Studien zur Deutschen Philologie (Halle, 1903); K. May, "Herders und Lessings kunsttheoretische Gedanken in ihrem Zusammenhang," Germanische Studien 25 (1923); R. Stadelmann, Der historische Sinn bei Herder (Halle, 1928); Theodor Litt, Die Befreiung des geschichtlichen Bewusstseins durch Johann Gottfried Herder (1942); Bernhard Schweitzer, Johann Gottfried Herders “Plastik" und die Entstehung der neueren Kunstwissenschaft (Leipzig, 1948); Heinz Begenau, Grundzuge der Aesthetik Herders (Weimar, 1956).

Fishman, The Interpretation of Art: Essays on Art Criticisim of John Ruskin, Walter Pater, Clive Bell, Roger Fry and Herbert Read (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1963); Quentin Bell, Ruskin (Edinburgh, 1963); James S. Dearden, "Ruskin on Tour," Apollo (Aug. 1963); K.O. Garrigan, Ruskin on Architecture: His Thought and Influence (Madison, 1973); John Unrau, Looking at Architecture with Ruskin (London, 1978); David Anthony Downes, Ruskin's Landscape of Beatitude (1980); W. Kemp, John Ruskin: 1819-1900: Leben und Werk (Munich, 1983); John Unrau, Ruskin and St. Mark's (Lon¬ don, 1984); Eileen Boris, Art and Labour: Ruskin, Morris and the Craftsman Ideal in America (Philadelphia, 1986).

K.D. Jessen, Heinses Stellung zur bildenden Kunst (Berlin, 1901); Emil Utitz, J.J. Wilhelm Heinse und die Aesthetik zur Zeit der deutschen Aufklarung (Halle, 1906); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, "Kunstgeschichte aus Sturm und Drang," Cicerone (1919); A. Zippel, Wilhelm Heinse und Italien (Jena, 1930); Herbert Koch, "Zu Wilhelm Heinses Antikenbeschreibung," in Festschrift Wilhelm Waetzoldt (Berlin, 1941); Harold Keller, "Kunstgeschichte und Milieutheorie," in Festschrift C.G. Heise (Berlin, 1950), pp. 31 -54. Heinrich Wolfflin, "Die Herzensergiessungen eines kunstliebenden Klosterbruders," in Festschrift fur Michael Bernays. Studien zur Literaturgeschichte (1893); E. Dessauer, "Wackenroders Herzens¬ ergiessungen in ihrem Verhaltnis zu Vasari," Studien zur vergleichenden Literaturgeschichte 6 (1906); Lionello Venturi, II gusto dei primitivi (Bologna, 1926), p. 140ff.; Heinz Lippuner, Wacken-


Seroux d'Agincourt's monumental work was published in 1840 in a German translation under the title Sammlung von Denkmalem der Architektur, Skulptur und Malerei vom IV. bis zum XVI. Jahrhundert. M. Lamy, "La decouverte des primitifs italiens au XIXieme siecle," Revue de Fart ancien et moderne 25 (1921); and John Stegman, "Lord Lindsay's History of Christian Art," Journal


Walter Kendrick, "Witness of Clouds: John Ruskin Sees the World," Village Voice Supplement (June 1988), p. 23.


David Watson, The Rise of Architectural History (London, 1980), p. 75.


Eileen Boris, Art and Labour: Ruskin, Morris, and the Carftsman Ideal in America, (Philadelphia, 1986). In 1891, Oscar Wilde published his pioneering manifesto "Man, Society and Art" under the influence of Ruskin. See W. Kemp, John Ruskin (Munich, 1983), pp. 331-32.



Heinrich Wilhelm Schulz, Karl Friedrich von Rumohr, sein Leben und seine Schriften (Leipzig, 1844); Adolf Friedrich Graf von Schack, Ein halbes Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1894); Julius von Schlosser, ed., ltalienische Forschungen (Frankfurt, 1920); Antonie Tarrach, Studien iiber die Bedeutung Carl Friedrich von Rumohrs (Halle, 1920); Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 50ff.; Friedrich Winkler, "Rumohrs friihe Schriften zur Kunst," Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst n.f. 32 (1921); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 1 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 292-318; Maria Luisa Gengaro, "Della polemica Rio-Rumohr sul valore dell'arte cristiana," L'Arte 34 (1931); Carl Lorck, "Die Bildnisse Carl Friedrich von Rumohrs," in Kunst in Schleswig-Holstein (Flensburg, 1954); Gert Schiff, ed., German Essays on Art History (New York, 1988), pp. xxvii-xxx.


Hans Hermann Russack, "Der Begriff des Rhythmus bei den deutschen Kunsthistorikern des 19. Jahrhunderts," diss., Leipzig, 1910, p. 31ff.; Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 64ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, "Ein Lebenslauf Franz Kuglers," Kunstwanderer (1923); and idem., Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 143-72; Walther Rehm, "Jacob Burckhardt und Franz Kugler," Basler Zeitschrift 41 (1942).


Theodor Storm wrote to his wife on September 14, 1853, about Kugler: "Kugler is a splendid man. Not a trace of secretive civil servant or Berliner; no, an artist and a stalwart Pomeranian; as Fontane said, 'On occasion I cannot tolerate Kugler the poet, Kugler the manager, but I honor the man himself like my father.'"


About the Kugler household, Theodor Fontane said, "The thing that lends warmth to a household is the life within, the spirit that ennobles it all, makes it beautiful and transfigures it with cheer."


Carl Schnaase, "Nachruf and Gustav Friedrich Waagen," Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst (1868); A. Woltmann, ed., Kleine Schriften (1875); Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 57ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunst¬ historiker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 49-70; Wilhelm von Bode, Mein Leben, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1930); Gabriele Bickendorf, Der Beginn der Kunstgeschichtsschreibung unter dem Paradigma "Geschichte": Gustav Friedrich Waagens Fruhschrift iiber Hubert und Jan van Eyck (Worms, 1985).


Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924]

'Weltgeschichtlichen Betrachtungen'," Preussische Jahrbilcher 28 (1907); Heinrich Gelzer, Jakob Burckhardt als Mensch und Lehrer (Leipzig, 1907); Hans Hermann Russack, "Der Begriff des Rhythmus bei den deutschen Kunsthistorikern des 19. Jahrhunderts," diss., Leipzig, 1910, p. 51ff.; Eduard Fueter, Geschichte der neueren Historiographie (Munich and Berlin, 1911), p. 597ff.; K.E. Hoff¬ mann, Jakob Burckhardt als Dichter (Basel, 1918); Heinrich Wolfflin, "Jakob Burckhardt —Zum 100. Geburtstag," Zeitschrift filr Bildende Kunst 29 (1918); Karl Joel, Jakob Burckhardt als Geschichtsphilosoph (Basel, 1918); Emil Durr, Freiheit und Macht bei Jakob Burckhardt (1918); Arnold von Salis, "Zum 100. Geburts¬ tag Jakob Burckhardts, Erinnerungen eines alten Schulers,"Basler Jahrbuch (1918); Otto Markwart, Jakob Burckhardt. Personlichkeit und Jugendjahre (Basel, 1920); Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 77ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, "Franz Kugler iiber Jakob Burckhardt," Kunstchronik (Sept. 1922); Josef Oswald, Unbekannte Aufsdtze Jakob Burckhardts aus Paris, Rom und Mailand (Basel, 1922); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 172-209; Werner von der Schulenberg, Der junge Jakob Burckhardt (1926); P. Eppler, Vom Ethos bei Jakob Burckhardt (Zurich, 1925); Carl Neumann, Jakob Burckhardt (Munich, 1927); Emil Waldmann, "Jakob Burck¬ hardt. Zum 30. Todestage Burckhardts und zu Carl Neumanns neuem Buch," Kunst und Kilnstler 26 (1928); Hermann Bachtold, "Die Entstehung von Jakob Burckhardts 'Weltgeschichtlichen Betrachtungen'," in Aus Politik und Geschichte, Gedachtnisschrift filr Georg von Below (Berlin, 1928); Alfred Neumeyer, "Jakob Burckhardts Weltgeschichtliche Betrachtungen," Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift filr Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 7 (1929); Walther Rehm, Jakob Burckhardt (Frauenfeld and Leipzig, 1930); W. Kaegi, Jakob Burckhardt, eine Biographie, 7 vols. (1947-82); Joseph Gantner, Jakob Burckhardt und Heinrich Wolfflin (Basel, 1948); idem., Schonheit und Grenzen der klassischen Form. Jakob Burckhardts Urteil iiber Rembrandt und seine Konzeption des Klassischen (Vienna, 1949); H. Knittermeyr, Jakob Burckhardt (1949); Walter Greischel, "Jakob Burckhardt als Kunstbtrachter," in Festgabe filr Alois Fuchs (Paderbom, 1950); E. Maurer, Jakob Burckhardt und Rubens (Basel, 1951); H.A. Enno van Gelder, Jakob Burckhardts Denkbeelden over Kunst en kunstenaars (Amsterdam, 1962); Werner Kaegi, Europdische Horizonte im Denken Jakob Burckhardts (Basel and Stuttgart, 1962); Joseph Gantner, Rem¬ brandt und die Verwandlung klassischer Form (Bern and Munich, 1964); Henning Ritter, Jakob Burckhardt. Die Kunst der Betrachtung (Cologne, 1984); Gert Schiff, ed., German Essays on Art History (New York, 1988).

1965), pp. 49-70. 7

Wilhelm Liibke, Carl Schnaase (1879); Hans Hermann Russack, "Der Begriff des Rhythmus bei den deutschen Kunsthistorikern des 19. Jahrhunderts," diss., Leipzig, 1910, p. lOff.; Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 71ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 70-92; L.K. McMillan, "Die Kunst- und Geschichtsphilosophie Karl Schnaase," diss., Bonn, 1933; Harald Keller, "Kunstgeschichte und Milieutheorie," in Festschrift C.G. Heise (Berlin, 1950), p. 42ff.; Rudolf Zeitler, "Hegel e Schnasse. La storia dell'arte," Critica dellArte 27 (1958); Gregor Stemmrich, "C. Schnaase: Rezeption und Transformation Berlinischen Geistes in der Kunsthistorischen Forschung," Hegel-Studien, special edition (1983). CHAPTER X

1 Eberhart Gothein, "Jakob Burckhardt," Preussische Jahrbilcher 90 (1897); Gustav Pauli, "Jakob Burckhardt," Zeitschrift filr Bildende Kunst 9 (1898); Hans Trog, "Jakob Burckhardt," Basler Jahrbuch (1898); Friedrich Gundelfinger, "Jakob Burckhardt und seine


Eduard Fueter, Geschichte der neueren Historiographie (Munich and Berlin, 1991), p. 566ff.


E. Du Bois-Raymond, "Naturwissenschaft und bildende Kunst," Deutsche Rundschau (1890/91); see also U. Kultermann, "Kunst als Arbeit —Die Kunsttheorie des Realismus," in Kleine Geschichte der Kunsttheorie (Darmstadt, 1987), pp. 151-88.


A. de Margerie, Hippolyte Taine (1894); G. Monod, Les Maitres de I’Histoire: Renan, Taine et Michelet (Paris, 1894); Julius Zeitler, Die Kunstphilosophie von H.A. Taine (Leipzig, 1901); Lefevre, Hip¬ polyte Taine (1904); Ch. Picard, Hippolyte Taine (1909); V. Giraud, Essai sur Taine (1909); Harald Keller, "Kunstgeschichte und Milieutheorie," in Festschrift C.G. Heise (Berlin, 1950), p. 45ff.; Marcel Jean, Geschichte des Surrealismus (Cologne, 1959); Fran¬ cois Fosca, De Diderot a Valery (Paris, 1960), p. 127ff.; Fritz Schalk, "Zu Taines Theorie und Praxis," in Beitrdge zur Theorie der Kilnste im 19. Jahrhundert, vol. 1 (1971), p. 352ff.




1825-1860 (Berlin, 1897); J.A. Crowe, "Giovanni Battista Caval¬ caselle," The Magazine of Art (1897/98); Adolfo Venturi, "Gian Battista Cavalcaselle," Zeitschrift fur Bildende Kunst (1898); idem., Di Giovanni Battista Cavalcaselle (Legnano, 1908); Corrado Ricci, "Per G.B. Cavalcaselle," Bolletino dArte (Oct. 1, 1911); Karl Woermann, Lebenserinnerungen eines Achtzigjahrigen, 2 vols. (Leipzig,

Published in two volumes in 1882; the German edition, translated by Ernst Hardt, was published under the title Philosophie der Kunst (Leipzig, 1902-03).


Pol Abraham, Viollet-le-Duc et le rationalisme medieval (1934); Maurice Besset, Viollet-le-Duc. Seine Stellung zur Geschichte in Historismus und bildende Kunst (Munich, 1965); Ivo Tagliaventi,

1924); Wilhelm von Bode, Mein Leben, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1930); Lino Moretti, Giovanni Battista Cavalcaselle: Disegni da antichi maestri (Venice, 1973); Danata Levi, Cavalcaselle. II pionere della conser-

Viollet-le-Duc e la cultura architettonica dei revivals (Bologna,

1977); Pierre Schneider, "Viollet-le-Duc: Architectural Prophet of the Past," New York Times (Mar. 31, 1980). 6

H. Prinzhorn, Sempers dsthetische Grundanschauungen (Stuttgart,

vazione dell'arte italiana (Turin, 1988).


1909); Hans Herman Russack, "Der Begriff des Rhythmus bei den deutschen Kunsthistorikern des 19. Jahrhunderts," diss., Leipzig, 1910, p. 53ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 130-39; Leopold Ettlinger, Gottfried

and Leipzig, 1900); Joesten, Gottfried Kinkel (1904); Briefe Jacob Burckhardts an Gottfried und Johanna Kinkel (Basel, 1921); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965); Wolfgang Beyrodt, ''Gottfried Kinkel als Kunsthistoriker,"

Semper und die Antike (Halle, 1937); Ernst Stockmeyer, Gottfried Sempers Kunsttheorie (Zurich and Leipzig, 1939); Heinz Quitzsch, "Gottfried Sempers asthetische Anschauung," diss., Greifswald, 1957; Leopold Ettlinger, "On Science, Industry and Art —Some Theories of Gottfried Semper," The Architectural Review 7 (1964); Joseph Rykwert, "Semper and the Conception of Style," in The Necessity of Artifice (New York, 1982); Karlheinz Barck, "Kunst und Industrie bei Leon de La Gorde und Gottfried Semper. Differente Aspekte der Reflexion eines epochengeschichtlichen Funktionswandels der Kunst," in Art social und art industriel. Zur Funktion der Kunst im Zeitalter des lndustrialismus (Munich, 1987).


W. Koopmann, "Iwan Lermolieff's Experimentalmethode, ein unfehlbares Mittel zur Bestimmung von Kunstwerken," Preussische Jahrbucher (1890); Gustavo Lrizzoni, "Giovanni Morelli und seine letzten Errungenschaften," Zeitschrift fur Bildende Kunst (1891); P. Ferrieri, II senatore Giovanni Morelli e la critica dell'arte (Turin, 1891); A. Gerdin, Intomo all critical d'arte di Giovanni Morelli (Oderzo, 1903); Max J. Friedlander, "Kennerschaft, Kunsthistorie und Aesthetik," Kunst und Kunstler 16 (1918); A. Kingsley Porter, "Kunst und Wissenschaft," in Johannes Jahn, ed.. Die Kunstwissenschaft der Gegenwart in Selbstdarstellungen (Leipzig, 1924); Wilhelm von Bode, Mein Leben, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1930); Irma Richter and Gisela Richter, eds., Italienische Malerei der Renaissance

diss., Marburg, 1977). 11

Von Fiedler bis Derrida. Zehn Anndherungen (Munich, 1991).


Die Galerien Roms was first published in several numbers of the Zeitschrift fur Bildende Kunst, beginning in 1874.


W. Liibke, "Crowe and Cavalcaselle on the History of Painting," Edinburgh Review (Jan. 1872); Franz Wickoff, "Giovanni Battista

Cavalcaselle," in Mitteilungen des Instituts fur osterreichische Geschichtsforschung (Vienna, 1884); Geschichte der alten niederlandischen Malerei, foreword by Anton Springer (Leipzig, 1875); Max

Jordan, Vorrede zur deutschen Ausgabe der "Lebenserinnerungen" von Joseph Crowe (Berlin, 1897); Joseph Crowe, Lebenserin¬ nerungen eines Joumalisten, Staatsmannes und Kunstforscher,


Ernst Guhl, Die neuere geschichtliche Malerei und die Akademien (Stuttgart, 1848); Carl Neumann, Rembrandt (Munich, [1901] 1905); Wilhelm Waetzoldt and Wilhelm von Bode, "Kolloff," Kunstchronik (1923); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 95-106; Gert Schiff, ed., German Essays on Art History (New York, 1988).


Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), p. 99.


Pierre Petroz, LArt et la critique en France depuis 1822 (Paris, 1875); L. Gonse, Eugene Fromentin, peintre et ecrivain (Paris, 1881); G. Beaume, Fromentin (1911); Mary Pittaluga, "Eugene Fromentin e le origine della moderne critica d'arte," L'Arte 20/21 (1917/18); Rodolfo Pallucchini, '"Les maitres d'autrefois' di Fromentin," Convivium (1930); V. Giraud, Eugene Fromentin (Niort, 1945); H. Gerson, in The Masters Past of Times (London, 1948); Meyer Schapiro, "Fromentin as a Critic," Partisan Review 16 (1949); Jan Biafostocki, "Miedzy Romantyzmen a pozytiwizmem Stanowisko Fromentina wdziejach krytiki," in Piec Wiekow Mysli o Sztuce (Warsaw, 1959); Francois Fosca, De Diderot a Valery (Paris, 1960), p. 211ff.


Anton Springer, Aus meinem Leben (Berlin, 1892) (with contribu¬ tions from Jaro Springer and Gustav Freytag); Paul Clemen, "Anton Springer," in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, vol. 35 (1893); Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 83ff.; A. Lichtwark, Reisebriefe, vol. 1 (Hamburg, 1923); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 106-29; Harry Graf Kessler, Gesichter und Zeiten (1935); Gustav Pauli, Erinnerungen aus Sieben Jahrzehnten (Tubingen, 1936).


Daruma, the founder of the Zen sect, had his eyelids cut off so that he would never need to sleep.


A neVy edition was published in Konigstgin in 1937.

im Briefwechsel von Giovanni Morelli und Jean Paul Richter, 1876-1891 (Baden-Baden, I960); J.J. Spector, "The Method of Morelli and Its Relation to Freudian Psychoanalysis," Diogenes 66 (Summer 1969); R. Wollheim, "Giovanni Morelli and the Origin of Scientific Connoisseurship," in Art and Mind (London, 1973); G. Previtali, "A propros de Morelli," Revue de lArt 42 (1978); H. Zerner, "Giovanni Morelli et la Science de 1'art," Revue de lArt 40/41 (1978); U. Kultermann, "Verraterische Ohren alter Meister. Giovanni Morellis Experimentalmethode zur Bestimmung von Kunstwerken," Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Aug. 27, 1986); Jaynie Anderson, 'The Morelli-Conference in Bergamo," The Burl¬ ington Magazine 79 (1987); Rolf Kultzen, "Giovanni Morelli als Briefpartner von Otto Mundler," Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte 3 (1989); U. Kultermann, "Auf dem Wege zu exakten Wissen¬ schaft — Giovanni Morelli (1816-1891)," in Kunst und Wirklichkeit.

Strodtmann, Gottfried Kinkel. Wahrheit ohne Dichtung (1850); Malvida von Meysenbug, Memoiren einer Idealisten, vol. 2 (Berlin




"Eichendorff und

die bildende

Kunst," Aurora.

Eichendorff-Almanach (1956).


Wolfgang Drost, "Baudelaire und der belgische Barock," in Das Werk des Kiinstlers. Festschrift Schrade (Stuttgart, 1960).


Alfieri's contributions are discussed in Joseph Gantner, "Michel¬ angelo," diss., Munich, 1922.


Margarete Gump, "Stifters Kunstanschauung," diss., Munich, 1927.


chapter XII 1

Hermann Alexander Muller, Lexikon der bildenden Kiinste (Leipzig, 1883); Jacques Chatenet, Victoria und ihr Zeitalter (Graz, Vienna, and Cologne, 1959); Richard Hamann and Jost Hermand, Griinderzeit (Berlin, 1965); Hermann Drue, "Die psychologische Aesthetik im Deutschen Kaiserreich," in E. Mai, S. Waetzoldt, and G. Wolandt, eds., Ideengeschichte und Kunstwissenschaft (Berlin, 1983).



Wilhelm Uhde, Von Bismarck bis Picasso (Zurich, 1938), p. 95.


Idem., p. 128ff.


Halvdan Koht, "Le probleme des origines de la Renaissance," Revue de synth&se hist. 37 (1924), pp. 107-16; Emil Waldmann, "Nachruf Henry Thode," Kunst und Kiinstler 19 (1921), p. 154..


Hans Thoma, Briefwechsel mit Henry Thode (Leipzig, 1928).


On August 23, 1905, Liebermann wrote to Wilhelm von Bode, "I did not start the fight for Thode's benefit, but because I wanted to hit those people who use him as a spokesman, who understand art as something other than what it is."


Johannes Jahn, "Der Barock und die deutsche Kunstwissenschaft," Omagiu lui George Oprescu (Bucharest, 1961), p. 310.


Quoted in idem., p. 313ff.


Johannes Jahn, Die Kunstwissenschaft Selbstdarstellungen (Leipzig, 1924), p. 1.


Idem., p. 9.


In Die Entstehung der Barockkunst in Rom (Vienna, 1923), p. 12.


Hans Hermann Russack, "Der Begriff des Rhythmus bei den deutschen Kunsthistorikern des 19. Jahrhunderts," diss., Leipzig, 1910, p. 105ff.; Ernst Polaczek, Georg Dehio (Berlin and Leipzig, 1925); Ernst Gall, "Georg Dehio," Zeitschrift fiir Kunstgeschichte 1 (1932); Hermann Uhde-Bernays, "Georg Dehio," in Mittler und Meister (Munich, 1948), pp. 102-10; Erich Hubala, "Georg Dehio, 1850-1932: Seine Kunstgeschichte der Architektur," Zeitschrift fiir Kunstgeschichte 46 (1983).


Wilhelm von Bode, Fiinfzig Jahre Museumsarbeit (Bielefeld, 1922); Theodor Demmler, "Wilhelm von Bode und das Deutsche Museum," Repertorium fiir Kunstwissenschaft 46 (1925); Gustav Gluck, "Wilhelm von Bode zum achtzigsten Geburtstag," Kunst und Kiinstler 24 (1926); Wilhelm von Bode, Mein Leben, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1930); F. Winkler, Wilhelm von Bode (1935); Werner Weisbach, 'Und alles ist zerstoben. Erinnerungen aus der Jahrhundertwende," Vienna, 1937; P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, pp. 7-16; J.D. Draper, "Wilhelm von Bode attributeur," Revue de lArt 42 (1978).

(Paris, 1955).


C. Gurlitt, "Rembrandt als Erzieher," Ostsee-Zeitung (1923); L. Voss, "Rembrandt als Erzieher und seine Bedeutung," diss., Gottingen, 1926; Benedikt Momme Nissen, Der Rembrandtdeutsche Julius Langbehn (Freiburg, 1927); H. Strobel, Der Begriffvon Kunst und Erziehung Bei Julius Langbehn (Wurzburg, 1940); P. Kirchner,

The dispute over the bust of "Flora" attributed by Bode to Leonardo da Vinci, sparked especially strong controversy in the press as well as among art historians.


In Kunstwanderer (1923).

Ernst von Wildenbruch, Zur Erinnerung an Herman Grimm (Berlin and Stuttgart, 1901); Reinhold Steig, "Herman Grimm," Biographisches Jahrbuch (1904); Alfred Lichtwark, Reisebriefe (Hamburg, 1923); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), pp. 214-39; Richard Hamann and Jost Hermand, Griinderzeit (Berlin, 1965); U. Kultermann, "Zwischen Polemik und Heldenverehrung: Julius Meier-Graefe und der Triumph der Kunstkritik," Frankfurter Allgemeine Magazin (June 7, 1985).



Anton Springer, "Ueber Justi's Winckelman," Im Neuen Reich (1873); Paul Clemen, "Carl Justi," Berliner Tageblatt 644 (1912); Friedrich Marx, Zur Erinnerung an Carl Justi (Bonn, 1912); H. Kaiser, ed., Justi. Briefe aus Italien (Bonn, 1922); Carl Neumann, "Carl Justi," Internationale Monatsschrift 7 (1913); Artur Weese, "Carl Justi," Repertorium fur Kunstwissenschaft 36 (1913); Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 94ff.; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965), p. 239-77; Gottfried Baumecker, Winckelmann in seinen Dresdner Schriften (Berlin, 1933), pp. 153-58; Richard Hamann and Jost Hermand, Griinderzeit (Berlin, 1965). Wilhelm von Bode, "Zur Rembrandt-Literatur," Zeitschrift fur Bildende Kunst 5 (1870); Carl Neumann, Rembrandt (Munich, 1902); W. Martin, "Zur Rembrandt-Forschung," Kunstwanderer (1922); Otto Benesch, "Rembrandt und die Fragen der neueren Forschung," Wiener Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte 1 (1921/22); Walter H. Dammann, "Ueber Carl Neumanns 'Rembrandt','' Kunstwanderer (1922/23); W. Weisbach, Rembrandt (1926); Carl Neumann, "Rembrandt-Legende," in Festschrift fur Max J. Friedldnder (Leipzig, 1927); Gerard Brom, "Rembrandt in der Literatur," Neophilologus 21 (1936); Seymour Slive, Rembrandt and His Critics, 1630-1730 (The Hague, 1953); Susanne Heiland and Heinz Liidecke, Rembrandt und die Nachwelt (Leipzig, 1960).


"Rembrandt als Denker," manuscript from the period after 1830.


C.R. Leslie, John Constable (Berlin, 1911), p. 214ff.


P. Regard, L'adversaire des romantique, Gustave Planche, 2 vols.


"Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Got¬ tingen, 1948, pp. 34-36. 9

Langbehn played an inglorious role in the treatment of Nietzsche's ill health; see "Der Fall Langbehn-Nietzsche. Unbekannte Briefe Peter Gasts," Berliner Tageblatt 229 (1932).


Rembrandt; cited from the German translation by Stefan Zweig (Leipzig, 1912), p. 83ff.


Meister (Munich, 1948), pp. 142-61; August Stahe, "Rilke und Richard Muther: Ein Beitrag zur Bildungsgeschichte des Dichters," in E. Mai, S. Waetzoldt, and G. Wolandt, eds., Ideengeschichte und Kunstwissenschaft (Berlin, 1983).

Gustav Pauli, "Richard Muther," Kunst und Kiinstler 7 (1909); A. Gold, "Personliches von Muther," Neue Revue (1909); W. Uhde, Von Bismarck bis Picasso (Zurich, 1938); P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, p. 4ff.; Herman Uhde-Bernays, "Richard Muther," in Mittler und

der Gegenwart



On Holbein's painting and the controversy surrounding the two versions, see Albert von Zahn, Das Darmstadter Exemplar der Holbeinschen Madonna (Leipzig, 1865); V. Jacobi. Neue Deutung der beiden nackten Kinder auf Holbeins Madonna (Leipzig, 1865); A. Woltmann, Holbein und seine Zeit (Leipzig, 1866); Nicholas Ralph Wornum, Some Accounts of the Life and Works of Hans Holbein (London, 1867); Eduard Magnus, Gedanken iiber die auf dem Zwinger zu Dresden stattgehable Confrontation der Holbein Bilder von Darmstadt und Dresden (Berlin, 1871); Gustav Theodor Fechner, Ueber die Aechtheitsfrage der Holbeinschen Madonna in Dresden (Leipzig, 1871); A. Jansen, Die Aechtheit der Holbeinschen Madonna in Dresden (Dresden, 1871); Bruno Meyer, "Holbein — Ausstellung in Dresden," Allgemeine Zeitung (Sept.-Dec. 1871);



Herman Grimm, "Die Holbeinsche Madonna," Preussische Jahrbiicher 10 (1871); W. Liibke, "Die Darmstadter Madonna Hans Holbeins und das Dresdner Exemplar," Schwiibischer Merkur (Sept.


13, 1871); Alfred Woltmann, "Die Holbein-Ausstellung in Dresden," National-Zeitung (Sept. 20, 1871); J.A. Crowe, "Die HolbeinAusstellung in Dresden," Im Neuen Reich (Sept. 15, 1871); Carl von Liitzow, "Ergebnisse der Dresdner Holbein-Ausstellung," Zeitschrift fur Kunst (1871); Carl Schnaase, "Riickblick auf die Holbein-Ausstellung in Dresden," Im Neuen Reich (Nov. 10, 1871); Charles Eliot Norton, The Holbein Madonna (privately printed, 1871); Adolph Bayersdorfer, Der Holbein Streit. Geschichtliche Skizzen der Madonnenfrage und kritische Begriindungen der auf dem Holbein-Congress in Dresden angegebenen Erklarungen (Berlin, 1872); Gustav Theodor Fechner, Bericht iiber das auf der Dresdner Holbein Ausstellung ausgelegte Album (Leip¬ zig, 1872); J. Felsing, Der literarische Streit iiber Biirgermeisters Meyer (Leipzig, 1872); Theodor Gaedertz, Hans Holbein der Jiingere und seine Madonna des Biirgermeisters Meyer (Liibeck, 1872); Albert von Zahn, "Die Ergebnisse der Holbein-Ausstellung zu Dresden," Jahrbiicher fiir Kunstwissenschaft 5 (1873); Moritz Thausing, "Nachruf auf Albert von Zahn," Jahrbiicher fiir Kunst¬ wissenschaft 6 (1873); Heinrich A. Schmid, "Holbeins Darmstadter Madonna," Die graphischen Kiinste (1900); E. Major, "Der mutmassliche Verfertiger des Dresdner Madonnenbildes," Anzeiger fiir Schweizerische Altertumskunde 12 (1910); Georg Hirth, Wege zur Kunst (Munich, 1918); Gunther Grundmann, Die Darmstadter Madonna (Darmstadt, 1959); Max Imdahl, "Zur Deutung der Szene in Holbeins Darmstadter Madonna," in M. Hesse and M. Imdahl, eds., Studien zu Renaissance und Barok (Frankfurt, 1980). 2

Preussische Jahrbiicher (1871), p. 10.


Im Neuen Reich (Nov. 10, 1871), p. 742.


Jahrbiicher fiir Kunstwissenschaft 5 (1873), pp. 151, 215. CHAPTER XIV

August Piening, Der Kunstapostel Julius Meier-Graefe und seine Parteigdnger (Bremen, 1898); Julius Meier-Graefe, Widmungen zu seinem sechzigsten Geburtstage (Munich, 1927); Hans Belting, ed., Julius Meier-Graefe: Entwicklungsgeschichte der modemen Kunst (Munich, 1980); Wilhelm von Bode, Mein Leben (Berlin, 1930); U. Kultermann, "Zwischen Polemik und Heldenverehrung: Julius Meier-Graefe und der Triumph der Kunstkritik," Frankfurter Allgemeine Magazin (June 7, 1985); U. Kultermann, Kunst und Wirklichkeit. Von Fiedler bis Derrida. Zehn Anndherungen (Munich, 1991).


Wilhelm Uhde, Von Bismarck bis Picasso (Zurich, 1938), p. 122. CHAPTER XV


Otto Benesch, "Die Wiener kunsthistorische Schule," Oesterreichische Rundschau (1920); Julius von Schlosser, "Die Wiener Schule der Kunstgeschichte. Riickblick auf ein Sakulum deutscher Gelehrtenarbeit in Oesterreich," Mitteilungen des osterreichischen Instituts fiir Geschichtsforschung 13 (1934); Dagobert Frey, Erinnerungsschrift, ed. Hans Tintelnot (Kiel, 1962); Werner Hofmann, "Was bleibt von der Wiener Schule?" Kunsthistoriker 1 (1984); 2 (1985).


J. von Falke, Rudolf von Eitelberger (Vienna, 1895); Hubert Janitschek, "Rudolf Eitelberger," Repertorium fiir Kunstwissenschaft (1885); W. Schramm, Das Leben und Wirken des Kunstforschers Rudolf Edler von Eitelberger (Vienna, 1887); Taras von Borodajkewycz, "Aus der Friihzeit der Wiener Schule der Kunstgeschichte, Rudolf Eitelberger und Leo Thun," in Festschrift Hans Sedlmayr (Munich, 1962).


Anton Springer, "Moritz Thausing," Repertorium fiir Kunstwissen¬ schaft (1885).


P. Kirchner, 'Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, pp. 43-47; Franz Gluck, "Briefe von Franz Wickoff und Max Dvofak an Gustav Gluck,'' in Festschrift K.M. Swoboda (Vienna, 1959).


Franz Wickhoff, Romische Kunst (Die Wiener Genesis), ed. Max DvoFak (Berlin, 1912), p. 25.


Cologne, 1907.


Francos Fosca, Edmond et Jules Goncourt (Paris, n.d.); and idem., De Diderot a Valery, (Paris, 1960), pp. 232ff.


These essays were carried throughout the course of 1898 (annual set).


Ferris Greenslet, Walter Pater (London, 1905); A.C. Benson, Walter Pater (New York, 1906); Thomas Wright, The Life of Walter Pater, 2 vols. (London, 1907); Thomas Edward, Walter Pater (London, 1913); Lucien Cattan, Essai sur Walter Pater (Paris, 1936); B.F. Huppe, "Walter Pater on Plato's Aesthetic," Modern Language Quarterly 9 (1948); Julius Reisdorff, "Die asthetische Idee in Walter Paters Kunstkritik," diss., Bonn, 1952; David Cecil, Walter Pater: The Scholar-Artist (Cambridge, 1955); Edmund Chandler, Pater on Style (Copenhagen, 1958); Jain Fletcher, Walter Pater (London, 1959); Wolfgang Iser, Walter Pater. Die Autonomie des Aesthetischen (Tubingen, 1960); Solomon Fishman, The Interpreta¬


P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, p. 46.


Max Dvofak, "Riegl," Mitteilungen der Zentralkommission fiir Baudenkmalpfege 3, pt. 4 (Vienna, 1905); August Schmarsow, Grundbegriffe der Kunstwissenschaft (Leipzig and Berlin, 1905); Wilhelm Worringer, Abstraktion und Einfiihlung (Munich, 1908); Erwin Panofsky, "Der Begriff des Kunstwollens," Zeitschrift fiir Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft 14 (1926); Hans Sedlmayr, "Die Quintessenz der Lehren Riegls," in Alois Riegl, Gesammelte Aufsdtze (Augsburg, 1929); Hans Tietze, "Alois Riegl," in Neue Oesterreichische Biographie, vol.8 (Vienna, 1935), p. 142;

tion of Art (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1963) 4

P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, pp. 47-54; Hans Sedlmayr, "Riegls Erbe,"

Wolfgang Iser, Walter Pater. Die Autonomie des Aesthetischen (Tubingen, 1960), p. 60.


Hefte des kunsthistorischen Seminars der Universitat Miinchen 4 (1959); Otto Pacht, "Alois Riegl," The Burlington Magazine 55

Hermann Glockner, "Robert Vischer und die Krisis der Geisteswissenschaften im letzten Drittel des 19. Jahrhunderts,' Logos

(1963); Kurt Badt, Raumphantasien und Raumillusionen (Cologne, 1963); Margaret Iversen, "Style as Structure: Alois Riegl's Historiography," Art History 2 (Mar. 1979); A. Riegl, Historische

14; Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, vol. 2 (Berlin, [1924] 1965); Carl Koch, "Zu Robert Vischers achtzigstem Geburtstag," Repertorium fiir Kunstwissenschaft 48 (1927); Benedetto Croce,

Grammatik der bildende Kiinste, ed. Karl M. Swoboda and Otto Pacht (Cologne, 1966), p. 21; Lorenz Dittmann, ed., Kategorien

"Roberto Vischer e la contemplazione della natura," in Storia

und Methoden der deutschen Kunstgeschichte, 1900-1930 (Stuttgart, 1985); Margaret Olin, "Forms of Respect: Alois Riegl's Concept of Attentiveness," The Art Bulletin 71, no. 2 (June 1989), pp. 285-99.

dellEstetica per saggi (Bari, 1942). 6

Die Literatur (1874).


Deutsche Rundschau (1893).



Riegl had busied himself previously with wooden calendars and calendar illustrations of the Middle Ages.



Karl Ginhart, "Josef Strzygowsky," and Alfred Karasek-Langer, "Josef Strzygowsky: Ein Lebensbild," in Josef Strzygowsky 70 Jahre (Kattowitz, [1932]); Bernard Berensen, Aesthetik und Geschichte in der bildenden Kunst (Zurich, 1950). Strzygowsky's book Das indogermanische Ahnenerbe des deutschen Volkes und die Kunstgeschichte der Zukunft (Vienna, 1941) brought him close to the racial ideology of the Nazis.


Hans Tietze, "Max DvoFak," Kunstchronik (1921); Dagobert Frey, "Max Dvoraks Stellung in der Kunstgeschichte," Jahrbuch fur Kunst geschichte des kunsthistorischen Instituts des Bundesdenkmalamtes (1922); Otto Benesch, "Max Dvo?ak," Oesterreichische Rundschau 18 (1922), p. 98; idem., "Max Dvorak. Ein Versuch zur Geschichte der historischen Geisteswissenschaften," Repertorium fur Kunstwissenschaft 49 (1924); Hans Baron, "Renaissance in Italien. Literaturbericht," Archiv fur Kulturgeschichte 21 (1930), p. 106ff.; Walter Bockelmann, Die Grundbegriffe der Kunstbetrachtung bei Wolfflin und Dvofak (Dresden, 1938); P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, pp. 54-56; Hans Sedlmayr, "Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte: Das Vermachtnis Max Dvofaks," Wort und Wahrheit 4 (1949); Otto Benesch, "Zum 30. Todestag Max Dvofaks," Wiener Universitdtszeitung (Feb. 15, 1951); J. Neumann, "Das Werk Max Dvofaks und die Gegenwart," Acta historiae ar-

Hildebrand —Konrad Fiedler," Beitrdge zur Theorie der Kunste im 19. Jahrhundert, vol. 2 (Frankfurt, 1972); H.R. Schweizer and A. Wildermuth, Die Entdeckung der Phanomene (Basel and Stuttgart, 1981); Brigitte Scheer, "Conrad Fiedlers Kunsttheorie," in E. Mai, S. Waetzoldt, and G. Wolandt, eds., Ideengeschichte und Kunstwissenschaft (Berlin, 1983). 2

Robert Hedicke, Comelis Floris und die Florisdekoration (Berlin, 1913), p. 357ff.; Oscar Wulff, "August Schmarsow," Kunstchronik 55 (1919/20); Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunst¬ geschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 88ff.; Johannes Jahn, Methoden und Probleme der Kunstwissenschaft," Archiv fur Kulturgeschichte 18 (1928); Oscar Wulff, Lebenswege und Forschungsziele (Leipzig, Prague, and Brno, 1936); Werner Weisbach, Und alles ist zerstorben (Vienna, Leipzig, and Zurich, 1937); Paul Frankl, Das System der Kunstwissenschaft (Brno and Leipzig, 1938).


G. Castellano, Benedetto Croce (Vienna, 1925); Julius von Schlosser, Stilgeschichte und Sprachgeschichte der bildenden Kunst (Munich, 1935); Joseph Gantner, Schdnheit und Grenzen der klassischen Form (Vienna, 1949); L. Grassi, "Benedetto Croce e la critica d'arte," Revista dell'Instituto Nazionale d'Archeologia e Storia dell'Arte (1952); V. Sainati, L'Estetica di Benedetto Croce (Florence, 1953); Gian N.G. Orsini, Benedetto Croce: Philosopher of Art and Literary Critic (Carbondale, 1961); W. Rossani, Croce e I'estetica (Milan, 1971); W. Rossani, Croce e I'estetica (Milan, 1971); U. Kultermann, "Intuition und Form. Benedetto Croce. 1866-1952," in Kunst und Wirklichkeit. Von Fiedler bis Derrida. Zehn Anndherungen (Munich, 1991).


Wiener Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte 4 (1926), p. 25. Croce on Giotto quoted from: Michael Ann Holly, Panofsky and the Foun¬ dation of Art History (Ithaca and London, 1984), p. 25.


Coriolan Petranu, Inhaltsproblem und Kunstgeschichte (Vienna, 1921), p. 102ff.; Frans Landsberger, Heinrich Wolfflin (Berlin, 1924); Wilhelm Waetzoldt, "Heinrich Wolfflin," Kunst und Kiinstler 22 (1924); Friedrich Winkler, "Heinrich Wolfflin," Kunst und Kiinstler 22 (1924); Benedetto Croce, "Ein eklektischer Versuch in der Geschichtsschreibung der bildenden Kunst," Wiener Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte 4 (1926); Lionello Venturi, "Gli schemi del Wolff¬ lin," Pretesti di Critica (1929); Hanna Levy, Heinrich Wolfflin. Sa theorie, ses predesseurs (Paris, 1936); Walter Bockelmann, Die Grundbegriffe der Kunstbetrachtung bei Wolfflin und Dvofak (Dresden, 1938); Jiirg Fierz, "Wolfflin und die Literaturwissenschaft," Germanisch-Romanische Monatsschrift 31 (1943); Theodor Hetzer, "Heinrich Wolfflin zum 80. Geburtstage," Forschungen und Fortschritte 22 (1944); Ziis Colonna, "Heinrich Wolfflin als Mensch," Busier Nachrichten (Jan. 27, 1946); Georg Schmidt, "Heinrich Wolfflin: His Meaning for Europe," Horizon 74 (Feb. 1946), esp. p. 139; Ulrich Christoffel, "Heinrich Wolfflin 1864-1945," Phobus 1

tium 8 (1962). 12

Munich, 1924.


Vienna, 1922.


Otto Benesch, 'Max Dvofak," Oesterreichische Rundschau 18 (1922), p. 98.


Giulio Carlo Argan, "Le probleme methodique de 1'histoire de l'art," Bulletin de I'office international des instituts d'archeologie et d'histoire de l'art (Nov. 1936/Mar. 1937); Hans Sedlmayr, "Julius Ritter von Schlosser," Mitteilungen des Oesterreichischen Instituts fur Geschichtsforschung 52 (1938); Hans R. Hahnloser, "Julius von Schlosser zum Gedachtnis," in Julius von Schlosser, Leben und Meinungen des florentinischen Bildners Lorenzo Ghiberti (Munich, 1941); O. Kurz, "Julius von Schlosser. Personality — Metodo — Lavoro," Critica d'Arte 11/12 (1955).


Vienna, 1924; Italian editions published in Florence, 1935/36 and 1956.


On Tietze, see E. Gombrich, J. Held, and O. Kurz, eds., "Essays in Honor of H. Tietze, 1880-1954," Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1950-58); David Rosand, "Hans and Erika Tietze," The Burlington Magazine (Aug. 1973).


The Art Bulletin 18 (1936), pp. 258-66.


Ibid., p. 258; E. Kaufmann, Architecture in the Age of Reason (Cambridge, Mass., 1955), p. 166. CHAPTER XVI

1 Ernst Tross, Das Raumproblem in der bildenden Kunst (Munich, 1914); Paul Fechter, "Conrad Fiedler," Kunst und Kiinstler 12 (1914); Hans Eckstein, "Conrad Fiedler," Neue Rundschau (1941); R. Salvini, La critica d'arte moderna (Florence, 1949); Werner Hofmann, Studien zur Kunsttheorie des 20. Jahrhunderts," Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte 18 (1955); Max Imdahl, "Fiedler, Hildebrandt, Riegl, Cezanne — Bilder und Zitate," in Literatur und Gesellschaft vom 19. ins 20. Jahrhundert, Festschrift Benno von Wiese (Bonn, 1963); Renato de Fusco, L'idea di architettura (Milan, 1964); Hubert Faensen, Die bildnerische Form, die Kunstanschauungen Konrad Fiedlers, Adolf von Hildebrands und Hans von Marees (Berlin, 1965); Kurt Badt, Kunsttheoretische Versuche (Cologne, 1868), pp. 123-24; Henning Bock, "Problematische Formtheorie: Adolf von

(1946); P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundert¬ wende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, pp. 25-33; Joseph Gantner, Schdnheit und Grenzen der Klassischen Form, Burckhardt, Croce, Wolfflin (Vienna, 1949); Ludwig Baldass, "Zur Bedeutung Heinrich Wolfflins zur Kunstgeschichtsschreibung," Wiener Jahrbuch der Kunstgeschichte 12/13 (1949); Wladyslaw Podlacha, Henryk Wolff¬ lin i jego teoria sztuki (Wroclaw, 1949); Fritz Strich, Zu Heinrich Wolfflins Gedachtnis (Bern, 1956); Reinhold Hohl, "Wolfflins Grundbegriffe in 12. Auflage," National Zeitung (Basel) (Feb. 19, 1961); Kurt Gerstenberg, "Erinnerungen an Heinrich Wolfflin," Neue Ziircher Zeitung (Nov. 7, 1965); Gotthard Jedlicka, Heinrich Wolff¬ lin. Errinnerungen an seine Jahre in Zurich 1924 bis 1934 (Zurich, 1965); Meinhold Lurz, Heinrich Wolfflin: Biographie einer Kunst¬ theorie (Worms, 1981); Marshall Brown, "The Classic Is the Ba¬ roque: On the Principle of Wolfflins Art History," Critical Inquiry 9 (Dec. 1982); Joan Hart, "Reintegrating Wolfflin: Neo-Kantianism and Hermeneutics," Art Journal (Winter 1982).




Auguste Comte had already used the term "histoire sans noms."


Virginia Woolf, Roger Fry (New York, 1940); Berel Lang, "Significance or Form: The Dilemma of Roger Fry," Journal of Aesthetics (Winter 1982), p. 167-76; Solomon Fishman, The In¬ terpretation of Art (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1963), p. lOlff.; F. Spalding, Roger Fry: Art and Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1980).




with Berenson (London, 1966); Kenneth Clark, Another Part of the Wood: A Self-Portrait (New York, 1975), p. 134. 11

Solomon Fishman, The Interpretation of Art (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1963), p. 73ff.; F. Spalding, Roger Fry: Art and Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1980)


Paris, 1911.


Rene Huyghe, "Henri Focillon als Kunsthistoriker," in Henri

in Claire Richter Sherman and Adele M. Holcomb, eds.. Women as Interpreters of the Visual Arts —1820-1979 (Westport, Conn., 1981). 12

Jeff van de Venne, Max Rooses (Haarlem, 1893).


John Gilissen, "Leo van Puyvelde, historien d'art," in Miscellanae Leo van Puyvelde (Brussels, 1949).


H.E. van Gelder, Levensbericht van Dr. C. Hofstede de Groot (Leiden, 1931); C. Hofstede de Groot, Kennerschaft. Erinnerungen eines Kunsthistorikers (Berlin, 1931).


Otto Homburger, "Adolph Goldschmidt," Phobus 1 (1946); Heinz Mode, "Adolph Goldschmidt," 450 Jahre Universitdt Halle (Halle, 1952); Hans Jantzen, "Adolph Goldschmidt," in Adolph Goldschmidt zum Gedachtnis (Hamburg, 1962), with other con¬ tributions by Otto Homburger, Otto Freiherr von Taube, Erwin Panofsky, Carl Georg Heise, and Heinz Ladendorf; Hans Kaufmann, "Adolph Goldschmidt," in Neue Deutsche Biographie, vol. 6 (Berlin, 1964); Adolph Goldschmidt, Lebenserinnerungen (Berlin, 1989).


Werner Weisbach, Undalles ist zerstoben... (Vienna, Leipzig, and Zurich, 1937); Erwin Panofsky, introduction to Wilhelm Voge, Bildhauer des Mittelalters (Berlin, 1958); Susanne Deicher, "Produktionsanalyse und Stilkritik. Versuch einer Neubewertung der kunsthistorischen Methode Wilhelm Voges," Kritische Berichte 1 (1991).

Focillon, Lob der Hand (Berlin, 1958), p. 14ff. 12

L'eloge de la main (1939), p. 52.


Oscar Wulff, "Tizians Kolorit in seiner Entfaltung und Nachwirkung," Zeitschrift fur Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft 31 (1937); Friedrich Klingner, Theodor Hetzer (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1947); Martin Gosebruch, Giotto und die Entwicklung des neuzeitlichen Kunstbewusstseins (Cologne, 1962); Gertrude Berthold, "Studium in Leipzig 1941-1944," in Kurt Badt and Martin Gosebruch, eds., Amici Amico-Festschrift fur Werner Gross zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 25.11.1966 (Munich, 1968). CHAPTER XVII


Rene Huyghe, "Henri Focillon als Kunsthistoriker," in Henri Focilon, Lob der Hand (Bern, 1958), p. 7.


A. Marignan, Un historien de l'art frangais: Louis Courajod (Paris, 1899).


Paris 1881.


P. Vitry, "Andre Michel," Gazette des Beaux-Arts 67 (1925).


Rene Huyghe, "Emile Male," Revue de Deux Mondes (Mar. 1,1955); Joseph Tranchant, "Emile Male. 1862-1954. Historien de l'art


Monatshefte fur Kunstwissenschaft 10 (1917), p. 43ff.; Rejoinders from German art historians such as Clemen, Gerstenberg, Gurlitt, Wulff, and Strzygowski, among other, were published in the same year.


Important documents in the critical reevaluation of El Greco in¬ clude: Manuel Cossio, El Greco, 2 vols. (Madrid, 1908); Julius Meier-Graefe, "Das Barock Grecos," Kunst und Kilnstler (1912); Maurice Barres, Le Greco ou le secret de Toledo (Paris, 1912); Her¬ mann Bahr, Expressionismus (Munich, 1920); Max Dvofak, 'TJeber Greco und den Expressionismus," Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte des kunsthistorischen Instituts des Bundesdenkmalamtes (1922); Roger Hinks, El Greco (London, 1954); Manuel Cossio, Dominico Theotocopuli, El Greco (Oxford, 1955); Halldor Soehner, "Der Stand der Greco-Forschung," Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte 19 (1956); Pal Keleman, El Greco, Revisited (New York, 1961).


Carl Linfert, "Wilhelm Worringer," Frankfurter Zeitung (Jan. 17, 1941); P. Kirchner, "Deutsche Kunsthistoriker seit der Jahrhundertwende," diss., Gottingen, 1948, pp. 58-60.


"Hommage a Elie Faure," Europe (Dec. 15, 1937); Paul Desanges, Elie Faure (Geneva, 1963).



Salomon Reinach, Allgemeine Kunstgeschichte (Leipzig, 1911), p. 311.



See Worringer's Formprobleme der Gotik (1910); Griechentum und Gotik (1927). Lucy Kingsley Porter, "Arthur Kingsley Porter," in Wilhelm W.R. Koehler, ed.. Medieval Studies in Memory of A. Kingsley Porter, vol. 1 (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), p. llff.

Adolfo Venturi, Memorie autobiographiche (1927). 6


Felix Alexander Dargel, "Gegenwart kennt keine Grenzen," in Meisterwerke aussereuropaischer Malerei (Berlin, 1959), p. 11.

religieux," L'Enseignement chretien (Jan. 1958); Philip Kolb, 'Marcel Proust et Emile Male (lettre la plupart inedites)," Gazette des BeauxArts (Sept. 1986). 6

Werner Weisbach, Undalles ist zerstoben... (Vienna, Leipzig, and Zurich, 1937); Erwin Panofsky, "Wilhelm Voge," in Wilhelm Voge, Bildhauer des Mittelalters (Berlin, 1958); on Herbert Home, see Fritz Saxl, "Three Horentines," Lectures (1957); Frank Kermode, Form of Attention (Chicago, 1985), p. 7ff. About Lady Dilke, see Colin Eisler, "Lady Dilke (1840-1904): The Six Lives of an Art Historian,"

H. Laurent, "Un grand theoreticien de l'art: Henri Focillon," Academic Royale de Belgique, Annales 23 (1940); J. Maritain, "Henri Focillon," Renaissance (Jan./Mar. 1943); G. Oprescu, Un grand historien de l'art, ami des Roumains, Henri Fodillon (Bucharest, 1944); Andre Mayer, "Hommage a Henri Focillon," in Temoignage pour la France (New York, 1945); George Kubler, "Henri Focillon als Kunsthistoriker," in Henri Focillon, Lob der Hand (Bern, 1958), p. 7ff.; Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1944), special issue with contribu¬ tions from Charles Seymour, Francis Henry Taylor, Paul J. Sachs, et al.; Louis Grodecki, Bibliographie Henri Focillon (New Haven and London, 1963); Andre Chastel, "Piero della Francesca et la Pensee d'Henri Focillon," in Fables, Forms, Figures, vol. 2 (Paris, 1978).

Derek Hill, "Berenson and I Tatti," Apollo (Oct. 1962); Umberto Morra, Colloqui con Berenson (Milan, 1963); Bernard Berenson, Sunset and Twilight (London, 1963); Nicky Mariano, Forty Years

Erwin Panofsky, "Three Decades of Art History in the United States," in Studies in lconology (New York, 1939).



Similarly in Europe the works of Georg Graf Vitzthum presents

tion (Cambridge, Mass., 1969); Michael Ann Holly, Panofsky and the Foundation of Art History (Ithaca and London, 1984); Renate Heidt, Erwin Panofsky: Kunsttheorie und Einzelwerk (Cologne and Vienna, 1977); Carl Clausberg, "Zwei Antipoden der Kunstwissen¬ schaft und ein versunkener Kontinent. Zum Methodischen von Pacht, Panofsky und Wygotsky," Kritische Berichte 6 (1978); Gert Schiff, ed., German Essays on Art History (New York, 1988).

an overview of the Middle Ages (e.g., Malerei und Plastik des Mittelalters in Italien). See also Herbert von Einem, "Nachruf Georg Graf Vitzthum," Die Sammlung 1 (1945/46). 8

Robert Hedicke, Methodenlehre der Kunstgeschichte (Strasbourg, 1924).


Friedrich Rintelen, "Nachruf auf Ernst Heidrich," in Reden und Aufsdtze (Basel, 1927).


Max Dvorak, "Ueber Rintelens Giotto," Kunstgeschichtliche Anzeigen (1911); Werner Hager, "Friedrich Rintelen," Kunst und Kiinstler 24 (1926); Martin Gosebruch, Giotto und die Entwicklung des neuzeitlichen Kunstbewusstseins (Cologne, 1962); idem., Unmittelbarkeit und Reflexion (Munich, 1979).



Hans Hermann Russack, "Der Begriff der Rhythmus bei den deutschen Kunsthistorikern des 19. Jahrhunderts," diss., Leipzig, 1910; Robert Suckale, Wilhelm Pinder spricht iiber Kunstgeschichte. Grundziige seiner Methode und Lehre (Gottingen, 1957); idem., "Wilhelm Pinder und die deutsche Kunstwissenschaft nach 1945," Kritische Berichte 4 (1976); Klaus-Heinrich Meyer, "Der Deutsche Wilhelm Pinder und die Kunstwissenschaft nach 1945," Kritische Berichte 1 (1987); Hans Belting, "Stil als Erlosung. Das Erbe Wilhelm Pinders in der deutschen Kunstgeschichte," Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Sept. 2, 1987).


Colin Eisler, "Kunstgeschichte American Style: A Study in Migra¬ tion," in Donald Fleming and Bernard Bailyn, eds., The Intellec¬ tual Migration: Europe and America 1930-1960 (Cambridge, Mass., 1969), pp. 575-76,


David Watkin, The Rise of Architectural History (London, 1980), p. 151.


Colin Eisler, "Kunstgeschichte American Style: A Study in Migra¬ tion," in Donald Fleming and Bernard Bailyn, eds., The Intellec¬ tual Migration: Europe and America 1930-1960 (Cambridge, Mass., 1969), pp. 575-76,


149 (1990). 8

J. Beloff, "Some Comments on the Gombrich Problem," The British Journal of Aesthetics 1 (1961); Ernst Gombrich, Nature and Art as Needs of the Mind (Liverpool, 1981), p. 23; Michael Podro, "The Importance of Ernst Gombrich," The Listener (Apr. 19,1973); idem., "Michael Podro in Conversation with Sir Ernst Gombrich," Apollo (Dec. 1989).


Ernst H. Gombrich, "Andre Malraux and the Crisis of Expres¬ sionism," The Burlington Magazine (Dec. 1954).

One of Pinder s early manuscripts, "Ein Gruppenbildnis Friedrich Tischbeins in Leipzig" (1907), was dedicated to a family history theme. CHAPTER XIX


G. Stuhlfaut, "Aby Warburg und die Bibliothek Warburg," Theologische Blatter 5 (1926); J. Mesnil, "La Bibliotheque Warburg et ses publications," Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1926); A. Dorer, Aby Warburg und sein Werk (1930); Erwin Panofsky, "Aby Warburg," Repertorium fur Kunstwissenschaft 51 (1930); Edgar Wind, "War¬ burgs Begriff der Kulturwissenschaft und seine Bedeutung flir die Aesthetik," Beilage der Zeitschrift fur Aesthetik 25 (1931); Gertrud Bing, foreword to Aby Warburg, Gesammelte Schriften (Leipzig and Berlin, 1932), vol. 1, p. xiff.; W. Kaegi, "Das Werk Aby War¬ burgs," Neue Schweizer Rundschau (1933); Fritz Saxl, 'Three 'Floren¬ tines': Hubert Home, Aby Warburg, Jacques Mesnil," in F. Saxl, Lectures (London, 1957); Gertrud Bing, Aby M. Warburg (Ham¬ burg, 1958); Carl Georg Heise; Personliche Erinnerungen an Aby Warburg (Hamburg, 1959); Gertrud Bing, "Aby M. Warburg," Jour¬ nal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 28 (1965); Dieter Wuttke, Aby M. Warburgs Methode als Anregung und Aufgabe (Gottingen, 1977); Geroge Syamken, "Warburgs Umwege als Hermeneutik, More Majorum," Jahrbuch der Hamburger Kunstsammlungen 25 (1980); Werner Hofmann, "Warburg et sa methode," Cahiers des Museee National d Art Moderne 3 (1980); Dorothee Bauerle, Gespenstergeschichten fur ganz Erwachsene. Ein Kommentar zu Aby Warburgs Bilderatlas Mnemosyne (Munster, 1988); Gert Schiff, ed., German Essays on Art History (New York, 1988); Silvia Ferretti Cassirer, Panofsky and Warburg, Symbol, Art and History (New Haven, 1989); Peter Schmidt, Aby M. Warburg und die

One of the late publications of Baltrusaitis was devoted to the theme of the mirror (Le miroir [Paris, 1978]). See also the debates between Meyer Schapiro and Baltrusaitis about method: U. Kultermann, "Meyer Schapiro et l'histoire de l'art du 20me siecle," Art Press (Paris)


E.F. Fenellosa, Ursprung und Entwicklung der chinesischen und japanischen Kunst (1913). The book was published after the death of Fenellosa and edited by his wife Mary. See U. Kultermann, "Die Lehre aus dem Fernen Osten: Ernest Fenellosa," in Kunst und Wirklichkeit. Von Fiedler bis Derrida. Zehn Anndherungen (Munich, 1991), pp. 70-90.


Erwin Panofsky, 'Three Decades of Art History in the United States. Impressions of a Transplanted European," in Meaning in the Visual Arts. Papers in and on Art History (Garden City, 1955), p. 326.


J.A. Schmoll [Eisenwerth], Kunstgeschichte (Darmstadt, 1974), p. 7.


The Story of Art by Ernst H. Gombrich, for example, first published in London in 1950, has since been translated into 17 languages and has become a bestseller without losing its integrity.


Existing comprehensive art histories such as the books by Janson, Alpatov, Gombrich, and Giedion are discussed in the 1966 and 1981 German editions of this book.


Colin Eisler, "Kunstgeschichte American Style: A Study in Migra¬ tion," in Donald Fleming and Bernard Bailyn, eds.. The Intellec¬ tual Migration: Europe and America 1930-1960 (Cambridge, Mass.,

lkonologie (Hamburg, 1989).

1969), pp. 544-629. 2

Fritz Saxl, "Why Art History," in F. Saxl, Lectures (London, 1957), p. 353; Klaus Berger, "Erinnerungen an Aby Warburg," in


Donald Drew Egbert, On Arts in Society. Selections from the Periodical Writings of Donald Drew Egbert (Victoria, 1970), p. 42. See also Marilyn Aronberg Lavin, The Eye of the Tiger. The Found¬ ing and Development of the Department of Art and Archaeology. 1883-1923 (Princeton University, Princeton, 1983).


Prominent experts in specific areas were Kurt Weitzmann in the field of late antiquity; Ernst Kitzinger in Byzantine art; Wolfgang

Mnemosyne (Gottingen, 1979). 3

Otto Pacht, "Panofsky's Early Netherlandish Painting," The Burington Magazine (1956); Werner Hofmann, Das Fischer-Lexikon, Bildende Kunst 2 (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1960), p. 196ff.; George Kubler, "Disjunction and Mutational Energy," Art News (Feb. 1961); Colin Eisler, Kunstgeschichte American Style: A Study in Migra¬



Stechow in Netherlandish painting; Hanns Swarzenski in the art of the Middle Ages; Walter L. Strauss in graphics of the 16th and 17th centuries; and Julius S. Held in the art of Rubens. Important research centers are Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, D.C., for studies in Byzantine Art (founded in 1940); and the Getty Museum

York, 1982), pp. 141-43. A critical stand is taken by Roger Shattuck, Meyer Schapiro's Master Classes," The Innocent Eye (New York, 1984), pp. 288-308. 27

The Journal of the History of Ideas (Apr. 1956).

in Malibu, for a variety of research areas. 9 M. Barsch and Lucy Freeman Sandler, eds.. Art the Ape of Nature: Studies in Honor of Horst W. Janson (New York, 1981). 10


Horst W. Janson, 'The New Art Collection at Washington Univer¬ sity," College Art Journal 6 (1947).



Some of his books written in collaboration with Dora Jane Jan¬ son, such as The Story of Painting for Young People: From Cave Painting to Modem Times (1977) were devoted to young audiences. Among the many pupils influenced by Janson at New York Univer¬ sity are Anne Marham Schulz, Marilyn Aronberg Lavin, Kathleen Weil Garris, Elizabeth Gilmore Holt, Anne Coffin Hanson, and Carol Herselle Krinsky. See also Lise Lotte Moller, "Horst Woldemar Janson," Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte 46 (1983).


The Art Bulletin (1942).


Alfred Neumeyer, "Victory without Trumpet: An Essay on Art History in Our Time," in Gesammelte Schriften. Collecteana Artis Historiae (Munich, 1977), p. 56.



Semiotics, 1969.


David Rosand, "Semiotics and the Critical Sensibility, Observa¬ tions on the Example of Meyer Schapiro," Social Research 45 (1978), p. 14.


Werner Hofmann, "Laudatio auf Meyer Schapiro," Jahrbuch der Hamburger Kunsthalle 4 (1985), p. 219; Roger Shattuck. "Meyer Schapiro's Master Classes," in The Innocent Eye (New York, 1984), p. 294.


Piri Halasz, "Homage to Meyer Schapiro. The 'compleat art historian,"' Art News (Summer 1973), p. 60.


P. Failing, "Bright, Funny and Not Afraid to Take Chances," Art News (Summer 1981).


Margaret Moorman, "Leo Steinberg and the Sexuality of Christ," Art News (March 1985), p. 80. See also Leo Steinberg, "Objectivity and the Shrinking Self," Daedalus (Summer 1969).


Linda Nochlin, "Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?" Art News (Jan. 1971); Lucy R. Lippard, From the Center. Feminist Essays on Women's Art (New York, 1976); idem.. Overlay (New York, 1983); Norma Broude and Mary D. Garrard, eds.. Feminism and Art History. Questioning the Litany (New York, 1982).


Roger Fry, The Artist as Critic," The Burlington Magazine (Feb. 1939).


R. Banham, "Pevsner's Progress," The Times Literary Supplement (Feb. 17,1978); Nikolaus Pevsner, "A Symposium of Tributes," The Architectural Review (Oct. 1983).


Michael Podro, 'The Importance of Ernst Gombrich," The Listener 19 (Apr. 1973).


Kenneth Clark, "Johannes Wilde," The Burlington Magazine 699 (June 1961). Among Wilde's pupils are Kathleen Morand, Eve Borsook, Andrew Martindale, John Steer, John Shearman, John White, Michael Hirst, Juergen Schulz, Pamela Askew, Michael Kitson, Katherine Fremantle, Ralph Holland, and George Knox.


Helen Rosenau's book is devoted to Boullee, The Social Background of' Art and Urbanism. *


Obituary of Klingender in The Architectural Review (Oct. 1955).


Antal described his anti-formalist theory in his "Remarks on the Method of Art History," The Burlington Magazine 2/3 (1949).


"The Teaching of Art History in British Universities," The Burlington Magazine 698 (May 1961).

George Kubler, "Disjunction and Mutational Energy," review of Erwin Panofsky, Renaissance and Renascences in Western Art in Art News (Feb. 1941), p. 34.


Among these books are The Architecture of the 16th Century in Mexico, 2 vols. (New Haven, 1948); Art and Architecture in Spain and Portugal and Their Dominions (London, 1959); Art and Ar¬ chitecture of Ancient America. The Mexican Maya, and Andean Peoples (London, 1962).


Thomas F. Reese, "George Kubler," unpublished manuscript, p. 18ff.


Ibid., p. 32ff.


Helen Epstein, 'Meyer Schapiro. A Passion to Know and Make Known," Art News (May 1983); see also Current Biography (1984); U. Kultermann, Meyer Schapiro et l'histoire de l'art du 20me siecle," Art Press (Paris) 149 (1990).


Helen Epstein, Meyer Schapiro," p. 81. It must be mentioned that much earlier Wilhelm Voge had pioneered a new perspective on Romanesque Art.


The Burlington Magazine (Feb. /Mar. 1949), p. 51. Schapiro's later continued psychological studies have already here shaped his results.


Meyer Schapiro, "Courbet and Popular Imagery," was published in The Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes in 1940-1942, thus establishing a connection with the center of iconology. The article was also fundamental for the basis of a genuine American art history, which up to then was still strongly dominated by the immigrants from Europe.

Meyer Schapiro, "The Still Life as a Personal Object, A Note on Heidegger and van Gogh," in Marianne L. Simmel, ed.. The Reach of Mind: Essays in Memory of Kurt Goldstein (New York, 1968). See also U. Kultermann, "Die Perspektive des Kunsthistorikers: Meyer Schapiro," in Kunst und Wirklichkeit. Von Fiedler bis Der¬ rida. Zehn Annaherungen (Munich, 1991), pp. 176-89.

Thomas F. Reese, "George Kubler/ unpublished essay. I wish to thank the author for allowing me to quote from it on pp. 19, 32, and 33 of the manuscript.

Meyer Schapiro, "Leonardo and Freud. An Art-Historical Study,"


Meyer Schapiro, Paul Cezanne (New York, 1952), p. 28.


Meyer Schapiro, Modem Art 19th and 20th Centuries. Selected Papers (New York, 1978), p. 228.


On Arts in Society: Selections from the Periodical Writings of Donald Drew Egbert (Victoria, 1970), p. 126.


Ibid., p. 229.


Herbert Read, The Innocent Eye (New York, 1947); idem.. The Con¬


In particular, Frank Stella in his theoretical statements about 'literalness" comes closest to Meyer Schapiro's concept: see Ellen H. Johnson, ed., American Artists on Art: From 1940 to 1980 (New


trary Experience. Autobiographies (New York, 1963). 46

Roger Hinks, A Gymnasium of the Mind. The Journals of Roger Hinks (Wilton and Salisbury, 1984), p. 13.



Kenneth Clark, "A Lecture that Changed My Life," in Mnemosyne: Beitrage von Klaus Berger, Ernst Cassirer, Kenneth Clark, etc. (Got¬ tingen, 1979), p. 47. The quotation is taken from Kenneth Clark, Another Part of the Wood (London, 1974), pp. 188-90.


Stuart Preston, "Kenneth Clark, 1903-1983," Art News (Sept. 1983).


Kenneth Clark, The Other Half: A Self-Portrait (New York, 1977), p. 51. Blunt's spy activity was on behalf of the Soviet Union, but Clark was in the special service of the Queen of England.


Kenneth Clark, Civilization (New York, 1969).


Stuart Preston, "Kenneth Clark, 1903-1983," Art News (Sept. 1983), p. 102.


Kenneth Clark, Civilization (New York, 1969), pp. 345-46.


G. Steiner, "Cleric of Treason," The New Yorker (Dec. 8, 1980).


Francis Ames-Lewis and Peter Draper, "Peter Murray and Art History," Art History (June 1980).


Michael Podro, The Manifold Perception: Theories of Art from Kant to Hildebrand (Oxford, 1972); idem., The Critical Historians of Art (London, 1982).


This division was immediately criticized by Meyer Schapiro in Art Bulletin (1936).


H. Quitzsch, Verlust der Kunstwissenschaft? Eine kritische Untersuchung der Kunsttheorie Sedlmayrs (Leipzig, 1963).


Dagobert Frey zum 23. April 1943 von seinen Kollegen, Mitarbeitem und Schulem (Breslau 1943); Hans Tintelnot, ed., Dagobert Frey. 1883-1962. Eine Erinnerungsschrift (Kiel, 1962).


Hans Tintelnot, "Dagobert Frey," in Hans Tintelnot, ed., Dagobert Frey. 1883-1962. Eine Erinnerungsschrift, (Kiel, 1962).



Vierteljahrsschrift fur Literaturwissenschaft


Geistesgeschichte (1958).


Following his emigration, Venturi returned in 1945 to his teaching position in Rome.


R. Bianchi-Bandinelli, Kunst der Antike und neuzeitliche Kritik (1931).


Giulio Carlo Argan has concentrated mainly on modern architec¬ ture. Since 1976 he has been Mayor of the city of Rome.


Joseph Rykwert, "Siegfried Giedion and the Notion of Style," The Burlington Magazine (Apr. 1954).


Festschrift Hans R. Hahnloser zum 60. Geburtstag (Basel, 1961).


E. Hiittinger and Hans A. Luthy, Gedenkschrift (Zurich, 1974).


Both Swoboda and Pacht were concerned with questions of method: see K.M. Swoboda, Neue Aufgaben der Kunstgeschichte (Vienna and Leipzig, 1935); O. Pacht, Kritische Berichte zur kunstgeschichtlichen Literatur (Zurich and Leipzig, 1937); idem., Methodisches zur Kunsthistorischen Praxis (Munich, 1977).


Walter Koschatzky and Alice Strobl, Die Albertina in Wien (Salzburg, 1969).


H.E. van Gelder, Levensbericht van Dr. C.H. de Groot (Leiden, 1931).


Opus Musivum. Ein bundel studies ann Professor Doctor M. D. Ozinga ter gelegenheid van zijn zestigste verjaardag op 10 November 1962 (Assen, 1964).


John Gilisessen, "Leo van Puyvelde, historien dart," in Miscellanes, Festschrift Leo van Puyvelde (Brussels, 1949); De Bruyne's major work is his Etudes d'estetique medievale, 3 vols. (1946).


J. Lavalleye, Introduction aux Etudes dArcheologie et d'histoire de lart (Paris, 1958).


Allan Ellenius is teaching in Uppsala.


J.J. Tikkanen, Beinstellungen in der Kunstgeschichte (Helsingfors, 1912).


E. Lafuente Ferrari, La fundamentacion, y los problems de la historia del arte (Madrid, 1951).

Gotthard Jedlicka: Eine


Erwin Panofsky became one of the most important pupils of Voge and wrote his dissertation on Diirer.


Badt published only a few articles in his early years.


Argo. Festschrift fur Kurt Badt zu seinem 80. Geburtstag am 3. Maerz, 1970 (Cologne, 1970); Festschrift Kurt Badt zum 70. Geburt¬


O. Wulff, Begriissung eines Achtzigjahrigen (Belvedere, 1928).

stag (Berlin, 1961).


T. Buddensieg and M. Winner, eds., Munuscula Discipulorum. Kunsthistorische Studien zum 70. Geburtstag 1966 (Berlin, 1968).

U. Kultermann, Zeitgenossische Architektur in Osteuropa (Cologne, 1985).


I am indebted to the late Professor Jan Bialostocki for various in¬ formation about Polish art historians.



Jan Mukafovsky, Kapitel aus der Aesthetik (Frankfurt, 1970).

Werner Hofmann, Georg Syamken, and Martin Warnke, Die Menschenrechte des Auges (Frankfurt, 1980).


Georg Lukacz, Werke, vol. 10 (Neuwied and Berlin, 1962).


Virgil Vatajianu, introduction to the Romanian edition of this book, vol. 1 (Bucharest, 1977).


Oto Bihalji-Merin, Bild und Imagination (Lucerne, 1975).





Festschrift filr Herbert von Einem zum 16. Februar 1965 (Berlin,

About the earlier tradition of art history in France, see chapter 17, "Art History at the Turn of the Century."


Eva Frodl-Kraft, "Louis Grodecki. 1910-1982," Zeitschrift filr Kunstgeschichte 46 (1983).



Bernard Teyssedre dedicated his work to questions of aesthetics and art theory, Victor-Lucien Tapie to studies in the Baroque.


Hans Belting, Das Ende der Kunstgeschichte? (Munich 1983); David Carrier, Principles of Art History (London, 1991).


E.H. Gombrich, "Andre Malraux and the Crisis of Expressionism,"


Ortega y Gasset, "Betrachtungen liber die Technik," in Signale unserer Zeit (Stuttgart, n.d.), p. 462.


Conrad Fiedler, Ueber die Beurteilung von Werken der bildenden Kunst (1876); idem., Vom Wesen der Kunst, ed. Hans Eckstein (Munich, 1942); U. Kultermann, "Zwischen Polemik und Heldenverehrung. Julius Meier-Graefe und der Triumph der Kunstkritik," Frankfurter Allgemeine Magazin (June 7, 1985).

The Burlington Magazine (Dec. 1954). 71

One of Venturi's major works, his History of Art Criticism, was published in 1936 in New York.


Scritti di Storia delVArte in onore di Mario Salmi, 3 vols. (Rome, 1963).



Aplers, Svetlana, The Art of Describing. Dutch Art in the Seven¬ teenth Century, 1983

Kaemmerling, Ekkehard, ed., Ikonographie und Ikonologie, 1979

Badt, Kurt, Eine Wissenschaftslehre der Kunstgeschichte, 1971

Lavalleye, Jacques, Introduction aux etudes d'archeologie et


d'histoire de I'art, 1958 Lodovici, Sergio Samek, Storici, teoretici e critici delle arti, 1940

Kunsttheoretische Versuche, ed. L. Dittmann, 1968

Kemal, Salim, and Ivan Gaskell, The Language of Art History, 1991

Batschmann, Oskar, Einfuhrung in die kunstgeschichtliche Hermeneutik. Die Auslegung von Bildem, 1984

Lohneysen, Wolfgang von, Eine neue Kunstgeschichte, 1984

Bauer, Hermann, Kunsthistorik, 1976

Liitzeler, Heinrich, Kunsterfahrung und Kunstwissenschaft, 1975

Baxandall, Michael, Pattern of Intention. On the Historical Ex¬ planation of Pictures, 1985

Mitchell, W.J.T., Iconology. Image, Text, Ideology, 1986

Bazin, Germain, Histoire de IHistoire de l'art de Vasari a nos jours, 1986 Belov, Irene, ed., Kunstwissenschaft und Kunstvermittlung, 1975

Pacht, Otto, Kritische Berichte zur kunstgeschichtlichen Literatur, 1937 Panofsky, Erwin, Studies in Iconology, 1939

Belting, Hans, Das Ende der Kunstgeschichte?, 1983

Perpeet, Wilhelm, Das Sein der Kunst und die Kunstphilosophische Methode, 1970

__ ed., Kunstgeschichte. Eine Einfuhrung, 1985

Podro, Michael, The Critical Historians of Art, 1982

Broude, Norma, and Mary D. Garrard, eds.. Feminism and Art History. Questioning the Litany, 1982

Pollock, Griselda, Vision and Difference. Femininity, Feminism and Histories of Art, 1988

Bryson, Norman, ed., Calligram. Essays in New Art History from France, 1988

Preziosi, Donald, Rethinking Art History, 1989

Busch, W., ed., Kunst. Die Geschichte ihrer Funktionen, 1987

Richter Sherman, Claire, and Adele M. Holcomb, eds.. Women as Interpreters of the Visual Arts, 1981

Carrier, David, Artwriting, 1987

Rosenberg, Jacob, On Quality in Art, 1967


Roskill, Mark, What is Art History?, 1976

Principles of Art History, 1991

Coellen, Ludwig, Ueber die Methode der Kunstgeschichte, 1924


Didi-Huberman, Georges, Devant limage. Question posees aux fins dune histoire de I'art, 1990

Salerno, Luigi, Storiagrafia dell'Arte, Enciclopedia Universale dell'Arte, vol. 13, 1965

The Interpretation of Pictures, 1989

Dilly, Heinrich, Kunstgeschichte als Institution, 1979

Schiff, Gert, ed., German Essays on Art History, 1988

_, ed., Altmeister modemer Kunstgeschichte, 1990

Schlosser, Julius von. La Letteratur Artistica, 1956

Dittmann, Lorenz, Stil — Symbol — Struktur, 1967

Schmarsow, August, Grundbegriffe der Kunstwissenschaft, 1905

Frankl, Paul, Das System der Kunstwissenschaft, 1938

Schmitt, M., ed.. Object. Image. Inquiry. The Art Historian at Work, 1988


Principles of Art History, 1968

Frey, Dagobert, Probleme einer Geschichte der Kunstwissenschaft, 1960

Schmoll, J.A. [Eisenwerth], Kunstgeschichte, 1974

Fry, Roger, Art History as an Academic Discipline, 1933

Sitt, Martina, ed.,Kunsthistoriker in eigener Sache, 1990

Gelder, J.G. van, Kunstgeschiedenis en Kunst, 1946

Summers, David, The Defect of Distance. Toward a Universal History of Art, 1990

Gombrich, E.H., "Kunstwissenschaft," in Atlantis Buch der Kunst, 1952

Schrade; Hubert, Einfuhrung in die Kunstgeschichte, 1966

Swoboda, Karl Maria, Neue Aufgaben der Kunstgeschichte, 1935

Hauser, Arnold, Philosophic der Kunstgeschichte, 1958

Tietze, Hans, Die Methode der Kunstgeschichte, 1913

Hedicke, Robert, Methodenlehre der Kunstgeschichte, 1924

Timmling, Walter, Kunstgeschichte und Kunstwissenschaft, 1923

Heidrich, Ernst, Beitrdge zur Geschichte und Methode der Kunst¬ geschichte, 1917

Venturi, Lionello, History of Art Criticism, 1936

Himmelmann, Nikolaus, Utopische Vergangenheit, 1976

Warnke, Martin, Kiinstler, Kunsthistoriker, Museen, 1979

Huber, Ernst Wolfgang, Ikonologie, 1977

Wind, Edgar, Art and Anarchy, 1963

Johnson, W. McAllister, Art History. Its Use and Abuse, 1988

Wolfflin, Heinrich, Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe, 1915


Waetzoldt, Wilhelm, Deutsche Kunsthistoriker, 1965


Ackermann, James S., 223, 229, 233, 234

Baldinucci, Filippo, 17, 130, 131, 137

Bergstrom, Ingvar, 246

Adhemar, Jean, 187

Baldung Grien, Hans, 15

Berliner, Rudolf, 157

Adrian VI, Pope, 9

Baltrusaitis, Jurgis, 187, 224, 242

Bernard of Hildesheim, Bishop, 4

Agesander, 37, 43

Balzac, Honore de, 124

Bernini, Gianlorenzo, 20, 23, 39,135,137,

Agincourt, Seroux d', 56, 57, 62, 66, 70,

Bandinelli, Baccio, 14, 38

82, 185


Bandmann, Gunter, 241

Bertram, Ernst, 80

Ainalov, D., 191

Bange, E.F., 194

Bettini, Sergio, 244

Albani, Francesco, 18

Banham, Reyner, 222, 238

Beyle, Marie Henri [pseud. Stendhal], 57,

Alberti, Leon Battista, 5-6,17 188, 222, 223

Barbari, Jacopo de', 110

Alcuin, 4

Bardi, Pier Maria, 247

Bezold, Gustav von, 137

Aldovrandi, Ulisse, 18

Barilli, Renato, 244

Bialostocki, Jan, 118, 221, 225, 248

Alembert, Jean d', 31

Barr, Alfred H., 201

Bianchi-Bandinelli, Ranuccio, 243

Alfieri, Vittorio, 124

Barres, Maurice, 201

Bianco, Stefano, 244

Algarotti, Francesco, 144

Barthes, Roland, 243

Bie, Cornelis de, 18

Alpatov, Michael V., 169-70,191-92, 221,

Bartsch, Adam von, 84

Bieber, Margarete, 210

Batschmann, Oskar, 244

Bier, Justus, 210

Alpers, Svetlana, 132, 235

Battisti, Eugenio, 243-44

Bierbaum, Otto Julius, 154

Altenstein, Karl von, 93

Battoni, Pompeo, 36

Bihalji-Merin, Oto, 248

Andreades, G.A. See Brunov, Nikolai

Bauch, Kurt, 132, 193, 221, 241

Billi, Antonio, 11, 13

Angulo Iriiguez, Diego, 247

Baudelaire, Charles, 31,117,123,124,153,

Bing, Gertrud, 213, 216

239, 248

Antal, Frederick, 231, 236

182, 185


Biondo, Michelangelo, 11

Apelles, 15

Baumgarten, Alexander Gottlieb, 48, 78

Birke, Veronika, 245

Apollinaire, Guillaume, 124, 199

Baxandall, Michael, 238

Bismarck, Otto von, 110, 126, 127

Aquinas, Thomas, 4

Bayersdorfer, A., 136, 148

Blunt, Anthony, 221, 237-38

Aragon, Louis, 124

Beckett, Samuel, 124

Bober, Harry,233

Arend, Heinrich Conrad, 75

Beethoven, Ludwig van, 149

Boccaccio, Giovanni, 5, 123

Aretino, Pietro, 8, 9-10, 11,14-15, 31,123

Behne, Adolf, 194

Bockh, August, 95

Argan, Giulio Carlo, 189, 243

Bell, Clive, 181-82

Bocklin, Arnold, 155

Argens, Jean-Baptiste de Boyer d', 30

Bell, Gertrud L., 165

Bode, Wilhelm von, 92, 107-09, 111, 116,

Aristophanes, 49

Bell, Vanessa, 182

Aristotle, 2, 53

Bellange, Jacques, 202

Armenini, Giovanni Battista, 17

Bellini, Giovanni, 180

Bodenhausen, Baron Eberhard von, 154

Amheim, Rudolf 210

Bellori, Giovanni Pietro, 17, 21, 22, 24, 25,

Bohm, Joseph Daniel, 158

Amim, Achim von, 123 Amim, Bettina von, 87, 107 Astruc, Zacharias, 200

137 Bellucci, Giovanni Battista di Bartolomeo, 13

132,134,137-40,145,152,154,157,160, 180, 193, 196, 201

Boisseree, Melchior, 65, 74, 79, 80, 83 Boisseree, Sulpiz, 65, 71, 74, 79, 80-81, 82, 83, 91

Athenodorus, 37

Belting, Hans, 242

Bonta, Janos, 248

Aubert, Andreas, 214

Benesch, Otto, 132, 170, 221, 229

Boon, Karel G., 246

Aubert, Marcel, 187, 228, 229

Benjamin, Walter, 61

Borenius, Tancred, 190

August II of Saxony, 144

Benois, Aleksandr, 124

Borghini, Raffaelo, 14

Berchem, Max von, 165

Borghini, Vincenzo, 14

Bercken, Erich von der, 197

Borromini, Francesco, 136

Augustine, 4 Badt, Kurt, 184, 197, 210, 239 Baglione, Giovanni Battista, 17, 137

Berenson, Bernard, 110, 150, 164, 180, 189-90, 237, 242

Borsch-Supan, Helmut, 240 Borsi, Franco, 244

Bahr, Hermann, 202

Berger, Klaus, 216

Bos, Jean-Baptiste du, 29

Baldass, Ludwig, 178, 194

Bergson, Henri, 162, 186, 203

Boschini, Marco, 15


Index of Names

Bosse, Abraham, 18 Bossert, Helmut Theodor, 197 Both, Jan, 88 Bottari, Giovanni Gaetano, 34, 75 Botticelli, Sandro, 110, 140, 150, 202, 211 Bouchardon, Edme, 30 Boucher, Francois, 25, 31, 149 Boullee, Etienne-Louis, 64 Bramante, Donato, 7, 137, 240 Brancusi, Constantin, 198 Branner, Robert, 235 Braun, G. Christian, 84 Bredekamp, Horst, 242 Bredius, Abraham, 20, 132, 192 Brehier, Louis, 187 Brenner-Kron, Emma, 101 Brest, Jorge Romero, 247 Breton, Andre, 124 Breuil, Henri, 187 Brinckmann, Albert Erich, 204-05, 209 Brinckmann, Justus, 137, 138, 159 Brizio, Anna Maria, 243 Bronte, Charlotte, 85 Bronzino, Angelo, 8, 17 Broude, Norma, 235 Brouwer, Adriaen, 125 Bruegel, Pieter, 125, 167, 202, 225 Brunelleschi, Filippo, 6, 11, 13, 136 Brunius, Teddy, 247 Brunn, Heinrich von, 164 Bruno, Giordano, 27, 215 Brunov, Nikolai [pseud. G.A. Andreades], 191, 192, 147-48 Bruyas, Alfred, 117 Bruyne, Edgar de, 246 Buckle, Henry Thomas, 103 Buddensieg, Tilman, 240 Biidinger, M., 161 Buffon, Georges de, 31 Biinau, Heinrich von, 49 Burckhardt, Jakob, 7, 9,12,17, 46, 71, 90, 91, 93, 94, 95-102, 115, 116, 119, 122, 128, 131, 132, 135, 137, 150, 153, 162, 163, 165, 171, 173, 174, 176, 177, 180, 183, 184, 186, 211, 252 Burger, Fritz, 203, 204-07 Burke, Edmund, 28 Burne-Jones, Edward, 133 Butler, Howard C., 204 Butzbach, Johannes, 8 Buytewech, Willem, 246 Byron, George Gordon, Lord, 123 Cabat, Louis, 118 Caffarelli, Verarga, 37 Caldara (da Caravaggio), Polidoro, 21 Callistratus, 2 Callot, Jacques, 182 Canotti, Giovanni Pietro, 75 Canova, Antonio, 63, 64, 65 Caravaggio, Michelangelo (Merisi) da, 24, 133, 221, 225, 243


Cariani, Giovanni Busi, called, 108 Carlyle, Thomas, 86,103,126,130,140,159 Caro, Annibale, 12 Carracci, 24 Carriere, Moritz, 164 Carstens, Asmus Jakob, 65 Cassirer, Ernst, 27, 211, 212, 213, 215, 220 Cassou, Jean, 242 Castiglione, Baldassare, 8 Caumont, A. de, 185 Cavaceppi, Bartolomeo, 57-58 Cavalcaselle, Giovanni Battista, 103, 111-14, 172, 187, 210 Caylus, A. Claude de, 30-31, 56, 62, 75 Cecchi, Emilio, 244 Cellini, Benvenuto, 8, 14, 71, 182 Cennini, Cennino, 4, 5, 13 Cerva, Giovanni Battista della, 21 Cezanne, Paul, 72,154,178,180,183,184, 186, 190, 202, 208, 232, 240, 243 Chadraba, Rudolf, 248 Champfleury, Jules, 117 Chantelou, Paul de, 23 Chardin, Jean-Baptiste, 149 Chastel, Andre, 187, 224, 243, 249 Chateaubriand, Francois Rene de, 83,123 Chatelet, Albert, 243 Chipp, Herschel, 233 Christ, Johann Friedrich, 35 Chrysostom, 3 Cicero, 3 Cicognara, Leopoldo, 65-66, 82, 88 Cimabue, Giovanni, 5, 7, 11, 75, 82 Circi-Pelicier, Alexandre, 247 Cirlot, Juan Eduardo, 247 Clair, Jean, 234, 243 Clark, Kenneth, 180, 189, 237 Clark, Timothy J., 235 Clasen, Karl-Heinz, 239 Clemen, Paul, 196 Cleve, Joos van, 15 Coffin, David R., 235 Colasanti, Arduino, 243 Colonna, Vittoria, 14 Comte, Auguste, 104 Condivi, Ascanio, 14, 34 Conolly, Cyril, 237 Constable, John, 130, 232, 240 Constantine the Great, 81 Cook, Walter S., 228 Coolidge, John, 229 Coomaraswamy, Ananda K., 249 Cornelius, Peter von, 83, 91 Cornell, Henrik, 191, 246 Corral, Maria de, 247 Correggio, 30, 34, 52, 53, 87, 109, 188 Cortez, Hernando, 7 Cossio, Manuel B., 200-01 Courajod, Louis, 182, 186 Courbet, Gustave, 117, 132, 232 Cousins, Jean, 30 Coypel, Noel, 25

Cram, Ralph Adams, 189 Cranach, Lucas, 15, 35, 36, 191 Croce, Benedetto, 162, 169, 173, 175-76, 179, 188, 243, 244 Crosby, Sumner, 230 Crowe, Joseph, 103, 111-14, 147-48, 172 Cuvier, Georges, 105 Cuzin, Jean Pierre, 243 Damisch, Hubert, 243 Damm, Christian Tobias, 48 Dante, Alighieri, 5, 123, 126 Dargel, Felix Alexander, 199 Darwin, Charles, 106 Daubler, Theodor, 199 Daumier, Honore, 124, 153-54 David, Jacques-Louis, 31, 79, 83 David, Toussaint-Bernard-Emeric, 130 Decker, Jeremias de, 130 Defregger, Franz, 125 Degas, Edgar, 200 Della Robbia, Luca, 6 Dehio, Georg, 137-38, 179 Dehmel, Richard, 154, 155 Delaborde, Henri, 185 Delacroix, Eugene, 105,116,117,124,130, 154, 156, 200, 240 Delaroche, Paul, 183 Democritus, 1, 2 Denon, Jean-Dominique Vivant, 56, 62-63, 64, 82, 185 Derain, Andre, 180, 199 Derrida, Jacques, 233, 243 Dessoir, Max, 179 Devigne, Marguerite, 192 Dewey, John, 231 Dezallier, A.N., 17 Dezallier d'Argenville, A.J., 17 Diderot, Denis, 23, 31-32, 36, 56, 57, 64, 66, 123 Didron, Adolphe-Napoleon, 185 Dilke, Lady, 190 Dilthey, Wilhelm, 137 Dodgson, Campbell, 190-91 Dolce, Lodovico, 14, 17 Dolev, Nevet, 249 Domenichino, 24 Donatello, 186, 229 Donner, Georg Raphael, 50 Dore, Gustave, 124 Dorfles, Gillo, 244 Domer, Alexander, 194, 210 Dreyfus, Alfred, 186 Droysen, Johann Gustav, 95, 240 Duncan, Isadora, 134 Diirer, Albrecht, 7-8, 11, 15, 17, 18, 36, 69, 75,123,134,159,160,190,191,197, 217, 219 Duret, Theodore, 149, 200 Duris of Samos, 2 Dvofak, Max, 162,164,166-68, 200, 202, 216, 231, 251

Index of Names

Dyck, Anthony van, 20, 130

Forssmann, Erik, 247

Giedion, Siegfried, 173, 179, 244

Forster, Georg, 64-65

Giedion-Welcker, Carola, 244

Eastlake, Charles, 111, 190

Forster, Hans Joachim, 146

Gilbert, Creighton, 233

Eckermann, Johann Peter, 72-73

Forster, Kurt W., 234

Gillet, Louis, 182, 187

Eco, Umberto, 244

Foucault, Michel, 243

Giorgione, 8, 24, 34, 109, 141

Eeghem, I.H. van, 132

Fragonard, Jean-Honore, 156

Giottino, 191

Egbert, Donald Drew, 228, 236

Francastel, Pierre, 242

Giotto, 5, 6, 7, 75, 82, 176, 178, 181, 183,

Ehrenfels, Christian von, 162

Francesco di Giorgio Martini, 6, 13, 188

Eichendorff, Joseph von, 123-24

Francois I, 38

Giovio, Paolo, 9, 11-12, 186

Einem, Herbert von, 239, 241

Franger, Wilhelm, 239

Girardon, Francois, 242

Einhard, 4

Frank, Sebastian, 15

Giulio Romano, 23, 225

Einstein, Carl, 124, 199

Frankfort, Henry, 213

Giustiniani, Vincencio, 18

Eisenwerth. See Schmoll, J.A.

Frankl, Paul, 175, 179, 210, 223, 228

Glockner, Hermann, 151

Eisler, Colin, 220, 221, 223, 227

Franz Joseph, Kaiser, 158

Gluck, Christoph Willibald, 99

Eitelberger, Rudolf von, 94, 121, 158-59,

Freart de Chambray, Roland, 22-23

Gliick, Gustav, 140

Frederick the Great, 30

Glusberg, Jorge, 247

Eitner, Lorenz, 235

Frederick the Wise, 36

Goes, Hugo van der, 7

Elgin, Thomas Bruce, Earl of, 62-63

Fredis, Felice de, 37

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 14, 32-33,

El Greco, 17, 38, 46, 117, 129, 156, 167,

Freedberg, Sidney Joseph, 229, 235

34, 39, 44-45, 53, 56, 57, 64, 65, 66,

Freud, Sigmund, 107, 157, 211, 233

67-74, 75, 77, 80, 82, 84, 89, 123, 126,

160, 164

200-02, 248 Elsen, Albert E., 233, 235

Frey, Dagobert, 137, 157,164, 168, 239-40

Elsevier, Rummelmann, 130

Freytag, Gustav, 113, 121

Elsheimer, Adam, 18, 69, 117

Fried, Michael, 235

Eluard, Paul, 123

Friedlander, Ernst J., 174

Emmens, Jan A., 246

Friedlander, Max J., 106, 108, 160

191, 204, 207, 208, 226

130, 135, 171, 172 Gogh, Vincent van, 132, 154, 186, 202, 232, 240 Goldschmidt, Adolph, 123, 178, 180, 183, 193-95, 208, 217, 222, 223

Engels, Friedrich, 86, 103

Friedlander, Walter, 220-21, 228, 238

Goldsmith, Oliver, 28

Enlart, Camille, 187, 214

Friedman, Mira, 249

Gombrich, Ernst H., 157, 170, 175, 210,

Ettinghausen, Richard, 228

Friedrich, Caspar David, 123

Ettlinger, Leopold, 106, 210

Friesz, Othon, 180

Gomez Moreno, Manuel, 247

Euclid, 6

Frizzoni, Gustavo, 110

Gomringer, Eugen, 124

Evers, Hans Gerhard, 242

Frobenius, Leo, 174

Goncourt, Edmond de, 149, 150, 185

Eyck, Hubert van, 7, 92, 93, 125

Frolich-Bum, L., 157, 170

Goncourt, Jules de, 149, 150, 185

Eyck, Jan van, 6, 7,15, 36, 74, 79, 92,125,

Fromentin, Eugene, 103, 118-19, 131, 182,

Gorgias of Leontini, 2



213, 225-26, 236

Gori, Anton Francesco, 34

Fry, Roger, 180-82, 190, 236

Gosebruch, Martin, 207

Fabriano, Andrea Gilio da, 9

Fiihrich, Joseph von, 91

Gothein, Eberhard, 99

Facius, Bartholomaus, 6

Furtwangler, Adolf, 230

Gotter, Pauline, 87

Fagiolo dell'Arco, Marcello, 244

Fusco, Renato de, 244,

Gottlieb, Carla, 233

Fagiolo dell'Arco, Maurizio, 244

Fuseli, Henry, 130, 236

Gottsched, Johann Christoph, 51 Goya, Francisco de, 133, 167, 183, 186

Falconet, Etienne Maurice, 33-34, 46, 69 Faure, Elie, 186-87

Gaddi, Taddeo, 5

Goyen, Jan van, 20

Fechner, Gustav Theodor, 103, 146

Gainsborough, Thomas, 29

Grabar, Igor, 191

Felibien, Andre, 17, 20, 23, 24, 25

Gall, Ernst, 194, 239

Graff, Anton, 132

Fenollosa, Ernest F., 227, 249

Gantner, Joseph, 21, 176, 179, 244

Gray, Euphemia, 85

Fergusson, James, 106

Gardner, A., 190

Greuze, Jean Baptiste, 149

Fernandez, Luis, 17

Gardner, Isabella Stewart, 189

Grigorescu, Dan, 248

Femow, Carl Ludwig, 65

Garrad, Mary D., 235


Ferrari, Gaudenzio, 21

Gau, Franz, 105

Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, 89

Gauguin, Paul, 132, 180, 187, 199

Ficino, Marsilio, 5, 224

Gelder, Hendrik Enno van, 193

Grimm, Jakob, 126

Fiedler, Conrad, 73-74, 171-73, 175, 176,

Gelder, Jan Gerrit van, 245

Grimm, Melchior von, 31





128-29, 130, 132, 147, 154,177, 179,184, 212

Gelli, Giovanni Battista, 14

Grimm, Wilhelm, 74, 126

Fielding, Copley, 84

Genelli, Bonaventura, 107

Grodecki, Louis, 187, 242

Filarete, 13

Gentile (Massi) da Fabriano, 188

Gronau, Georg, 180

Fillitz, Hermann, 245

George of Saxony, Prince, 145

Gros, Antoine Jean, 83

Fiocco, Giuseppe, 137, 188, 243

Gerhaert, Nikolaus, 198

Grosse, Theodor, 147

Fiorillo, Johann Domenico, 36, 89

Germann, Georg, 244

Grosseteste, Robert, 4

Fischart, Johann, 15, 123

Gerson, Horst, 132, 193, 245

Grote, Ludwig, 239

Fischer von Erlach, Johann B., 35, 239

Gerstenberg, Kurt, 179, 180

Grundmann, Gunther, 145

Focillon, Henri, 182, 228, 229

Gerszi, Terez, 248

Griinewald, Matthias, 202, 218-19

Fontane, Theodor, 90, 124

Geymiiller, Heinrich von, 101

Griitzner, Eduard von, 125

Foppa, Vicenzo, 109

Ghiberti, Lorenzo, 5-6, 11, 13, 88, 223

Guercino, 24

183, 184, 185, 203, 252


Index of Names

Gurlitt, Cornelius, 131, 136-37, 163-64

Hirt, Alois, 44, 145, 146

Jung, Carl Gustav, 211

Guys, Constantin, 124

Hirzel, Salomon, 133

Justi, Carl, 30, 33, 34, 42, 46, 55, 58, 75,

Hagedom, Christian Ludwig von, 35-36,

Hittorf, Ignaz, 105

128-30, 136, 152, 173, 186, 201, 211

Hitchcock, Henry Russell, 179 Hodler, Ferdinand, 203, 206

Kafka, Franz, 199

Hagedom, Friedrich von, 35

Hoelzel, Adolf, 73

Kalinowski, Lech, 248

Hager, Wemer, 208

Hoffmann, E.T.A., 123

Kandinsky, Wassily, 73, 198, 204, 208

Hagnover, Niclas, 198

Hoffmann, Hans, 244

Kant, Immanuel, 27, 34, 57, 59, 76, 171

Hahnloser, Hans R., 157, 170, 244

Hofmann, Werner, 242, 245

Kaprow, Allan, 233

Haider, Ernst, 131

Hofmannsthal, Hugo von, 156

Karaman, 248,

Hamann, Johann Georg, 51, 56, 76

Hofstaden, Konrad von, 96

Karl August, Duke of Saxe-Weimar, 74

Hamann, Richard, 132, 149, 209, 233

Hofstede de Groot, Cornelius, 132, 192-93

Kamecki, Jerzy, 248

Hamilton, Gavin, 56, 57

Hogarth, William, 28, 36, 57, 236

Katz, Karl, 233

Hamilton, George Heard, 182

Hokusai, 149, 182

Kauffmann, Angelica, 28, 70, 82, 126






Novalis], 78 Harding, J.O.,84

Holbach, Paul, 31 Holbein,


the Younger,

Kauffmann, Hans, 194, 221, 239, 240-41 15,



Kaufmann, Emil, 157, 169-70, 193, 210 Kaulbach, Wilhelm von, 125

Hardt, Ernst, 194

Holderlin, Friedrich, 171

Kautzsch, Rudolf, 214 Keats, John, 123

Hartt, Frederick, 233

Hollanda, Francisco de, 14

Hasenclever, Walter, 209

Hollar, Wenceslaus, 116

Kehrer, Hugo, 202

Haskell, Francis, 238

Homer, 2, 49, 126

Keleman, Pal, 248

Hauptmann, Gerhart, 156

Honnecourt, Villard d', 4, 244

Keller, Gottfried, 124

Hauser, Arnold, 236

Honthorst, Gerrit van, 18

Kemenov, Vladimir, 248

Hausherr, Rainer, 242

Hoogewerff, Godefridus }., 193, 245-46

Kemp, Wolfgang, 242

Hausner, Rudolf, 46

Hoogstraten, Samuel van, 20, 130

Kessler, Harry, 120, 154

Hautecoeur, Louis, 187, 242

Home, Herbert, 190, 191

Kinkel, Gottfried, 93, 94, 115-16, 147, 210

Haverkamp-Begemann, Egbert, 246

Homy, Franz, 89

Kirchner, Ernst Ludwig, 199

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 46

Horvat-Pintaric, Vera, 248

Klee, Paul, 73, 155

Haydn, Joseph, 99

Hotho, Heinrich Gustav, 60, 92-93

Klein, Robert, 224

Heckel, Erich, 199

Houbraken, Arnold, 20, 130

Kleist, Heinrich von, 123

Heckscher, August, 231

Hiibner, Julius, 146

Kleiton, 1

Heckscher, William S. 193, 210, 235, 246

Huch, Ricarda, 179

Klemm, Gustav, 106

Hedicke, Robert, 137, 206, 207

Hudson, Thomas, 28

Klibansky, Raymond, 216

Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, 57, 59,

Hugo, Victor, 83, 123, 130

Klimt, Gustav, 160, 198, 199

Humboldt, Alexander von, 64, 87, 89, 91

Klingender, Francis D., 236

Heidegger, Martin, 47, 233, 240

Humboldt, Wilhelm von, 87, 89

Knackfuss, Hermann, 122

Heider, G.A. von, 94, 157-58, 159

Hunt, Holman, 85

Knight, Payne, 63

Heidrich, Ernst, 163, 183, 207, 208

Huygens, Constantin, 130

Knorr, Georg Wolfgang, 75

Heine, Heinrich, 123, 124

Huyghe, Rene, 182, 185, 186, 187

Koch, Joseph Anton, 91

Heinse, Wilhelm, 43-44, 53, 76-77, 123,

Huysmans, J.K., 124

Kokoschka, Oskar, 168

60-61, 66, 88, 89, 92, 93, 122, 137, 240

Kolar, Jiri, 124

130, 135 Heise, Carl Georg, 195, 197, 213-25, 239

Iffland, Wilhelm, 64

Kolloff, Eduard, 116-17, 130, 210

Heissenbiittel, Helmut, 124

Imdahl, Max, 242

Kollwitz, Kathe, 234

Held, Julius S., 228

Ingres, Jean Auguste, 64, 185

Kondakov, Nikodim Pavlivich, 191, 247

Helmarshausen, Roger, 4

Innocent X, Pope, 128

Konesny, Dusan, 248

Henzen, Wilhelm, 96

Iselin, Johann Lucas, 144

Kooning, Willem de, 231

Herder, Johann Gottfried von, 36, 55-56,

Iser, Wolfgang, 150

Koschatzky, Walter, 245 Krain, Andreas von, 96

57, 59 , 66, 70, 76 Herding, Klaus, 242

Jaffe, Hans L.C., 246

Kraus, Karl, 157

Herodotus, 49

Jahn, Johannes, 136, 199

Krauss, Rosalind, 235

Hersey, George, L., 235

James, William, 189

Krautheimer, Richard, 210, 223, 228, 235

Hertz, Mary, 211, 216

Janitschek, Hubert, 159, 196, 211

Kriesis, Anton, 191

Hetzer, Theodor, 72, 132, 179, 183-84,

Janson, Horst W. 202, 228, 229

Krinsky, Carol Herselle, 235

Jantzen, Hans, 193, 208-09, 239

Kris, Ernst, 157, 170, 210, 225

Jedlicka, Gotthard, 179, 202, 244

Kubler, Frederick W., 230

Jobin, Bernhard, 15

Kubler, George, 182, 230-31

Heyne, Christian Gottlob, 35, 44, 55, 64

Johns, Jasper, 231

Kugler, Franz, 12, 62, 89-91, 94, 99, 105,

Heyse, Paul, 90, 91, 96

Johnson, Samuel, 28

Hildebrand, Adolf von, 171, 176, 178,183

Josephson, Ragnar, 246

Kuhn, Helmut, 59

Hind, A.M., 132

Jordan, Max, 114

Kuhn, Margarete, 239

Hinks, Roger, 237

Judd, Donald, 233

Kurz, Otto, 157

Hirschmann, Otto, 193

Julius II, Pope, 38

Kuznetsov, Yuri, 248

208, 239 Heydenreich, Ludwig Heinrich, 217, 221, 239, 241


106, 115, 122, 136, 145, 146, 147, 157

Index of Names

La Bruyere, Jean de, 50

Lorck, Carl von, 88

Mengs, Anton Raphael, 52-53, 66, 79, 126

Labuda, Adam S., 248

Loredan, Lionardo, 14

Mengs, Ismael, 52

Lacan, Jacques, 243

Lorrain, Claude, 87, 221

Menzel, Adolph, 90, 136

Ladendorf, Heinz, 241

Lotto, Lorenzo, 108, 109, 189

Merck, Johann Heinrich, 68, 77

Laer, Pieter van, 20

Lotz, Wolfgang, 239, 241

Merimee, Prosper, 124

La Fontaine, Jean de, 104

Louis XIII, 23

Mestrovic, Matko, 248

Lafuente, Modesto, 201

Louis XV, 63

Meulen, Marjon van der, 132

Lafuente Ferrari, Enrique, 247

Liibke, Wilhelm, 136, 145, 158

Meunier, Constantin, 187

Lamprecht, Karl, 49, 196

Lucas van Leyden, 117

Meyer, Bruno, 145, 148

Landino, Cristoforo, 6, 11

Ludwig, Heinrich, 103

Meyer, Conrad Ferdinand, 124

Lang, Andrew, 86

Lukomski, Georgii Kreskent'evich, 247

Meyer, Erich, 194, 239

Langbehn, Julius, 131-32

Liitzeler, Heinrich, 241

Meyer, Franz, 245

Lang, Oskar, 206-07

Liitzow, C. von, 145

Meyer, Jakob, 144-45

Langley, Batty, 75

Lysippus, 2

Meyer, Johann Heinrich, 65, 71, 79

Langley, Thomas, 75

Meysenbug, Malvida von, 115

Lanzi, Luigi, 34, 35, 36, 64, 84, 88, 112

Mabuse, 15

Michel, Andre, 186

Larsson, Lars Olof, 247

Macke, August, 73

Michelangelo, 8, 9-10, 13, 14, 15, 17, 21,

Lassnig, Maria, 46

Madrazo, F. de, 200

23, 24, 25, 29, 34, 38, 66, 83, 114, 124,

Lasteyrie-Dusaillant, Charles, 185

Magliabecchiano, Anonymo, 11

125, 128, 130, 134, 137, 150, 219, 222

Lastman, Pieter, 117

Magnasco, Alessandro, 202

Michelet, Jules, 98, 103

La Tour, Georges de, 149

Mahon, Denis, 221

Michelozzo di Bartolomeo, 229

Laurana, Francesco, 205

Major, Ernst, 148

Michiel, Marcantonio, 11

Lauts, Jan, 217

Major, Mate, 248

Middleton, Robin, 238

Lavalleye, Jacques, 246

Male, Emile, 182, 186, 187

Miedema, Hessel, 246

Lavedan, Pierre, 242

Mallarme, Stephane, 124

Mignard, Nicolas, 30

Lavin, Irving, 223, 234

Malraux, Andre, 186, 217, 225, 243

Milizia, Francesco, 66

Lazarev, Victor N., 247

Malsz, G., 145

Millais, John Everett, 85

Lebrun, Charles, 30

Mander, Karel van, 6, 15-16, 18, 20, 251

Millar, E.G., 190

Le Corbusier, 170

Manet, Edouard, 117, 124, 154, 156, 200

Miller, Henry, 187

Ledoux, Claude-Nicolas, 64, 170

Manetti, Antonio, 11, 12

Millet, Jean-Frangois, 117, 200

Lehmann, Karl, 228

Manni, Francesco Maria, 34

Milner, Alfred, 86

Leibl, Wilhelm, 131

Mantegna, Andrea, 8, 21, 108

Minamoto, Hohso, 249

Lemoyne, Francois, 25

Marangoni, M., 137

Mockel, Johanna, 115

Lenbach, Franz von, 107, 110

Marc, Franz, 73, 204

Moller, Lise Lotte, 217

Lenoir, Alexandre, 82, 83, 185, 186

Marees, Hans van, 155, 171, 176

Mon, Franz, 124

Leo X, Pope, 7, 38, 81

Maria Theresa, Empress, 58

Mondrian, Piet, 198, 237

Lermolieff, Iwan. See Morelli, Giovanni

Mariette, Pierre Jean, 30

Monet, Claude, 154, 168

Lerse, Franz Christian, 123

Marilhat, Prosper, 118

Monier, P., 25-26

Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 35, 37, 42-43,

Marinetti, Filippo Tommaso, 124, 199

Montabert, Paillot de, 82

Marie, Raimond van, 192

Montagna, Benedetto, 108

44, 45, 55, 56, 57, 66, 89, 105, 175 Le Sueur, Eustache, 30, 33

Marquand, Allan, 204

Montaigne, Michel Eyquem de, 162

Levine, Neil, 235

Marsy, Gaspard, 38

Montelupe, Raffaelo da, 14

Levi-Strauss, Claude, 243

Martin, Wilhelm, 132, 185, 192

Montesquieu, Charles de, 50

Levitin, Evgeny, 248

Martini, Simone, 5, 6

Montor, Artaud de, 82

Libman, Mikhail, 248

Marx, Karl, 86, 103

Montorsorli, Giovanni Angelo, 38

Lichtwark, Alfred, 126, 138, 155

Masaccio, 6, 7, 173, 178

Moore, G.E., 181

Lieberman, William, 233

Mather, Frank Jewett, 204

Morelli, Giovanni [pseud. Iwan Lermo¬

Liebermann, Max, 72, 132, 134, 140, 166,

Matisse, Henri, 180, 190


Maus, Octave, 124

lieff], 103, 106-11, 141, 160, 167, 171, 172, 180, 187, 189, 210

Maximilian II, King of Bavaria, 94

Morey, Charles Rufus, 189, 204, 228

Max, Gabriel, 125

Morgan, John Pierpont, 180

Linik, Irina, 248

Mayer, August L., 202, 210

Moricke, Eduard, 124, 151

Liphart, Karl von, 139

Mazzini, Giuseppe, 111

Moritz, Karl Philipp, 27, 70, 77

Lippard, Lucy, 235

Medici, de', 186, 211

Morris, William, 103, 190

Lindsay, Alexander William Crawford, Lord, 82

Lippi, Fra Filippo, 108

Medici, Cosimo I de', 12

Motherwell, Robert, 233

Lippmann, F. 145

Medici, Maria de', 144, 148

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 99

Lipps, Theodor, 176, 202

Meeks, Carroll, 182, 230

Mukarovsky, Jan, 248

Lips, Johann Heinrich, 130

Meier-Graefe, Julius, 134, 154-56, 200, 201

Muller, H.A, 125

Loewy, Emanuel, 225

Meissonnier, Ernest, 125

Muller, Theodor, 239

Lomazzo, Gian Paolo, 17, 21

Meit, Konrad, 196

Munch, Edvard, 154, 206

Longhi, Roberto, 137, 243-44

Melville, Herman, 124

Miindler, Otto, 108, 147, 172

Loos, Adolf, 157

Mendelssohn, Moses, 27, 59

Munk, Zdenka, 248


Index of Names

Munoz, Antonio, 137 Muntz, Eugene, 185, 186 Murillo, Bartolome Esteban, 24, 117, 200 Murray, Peter, 238 Mussolini, Benito, 175 Muther, Richard, 133, 202 Myers, Bernhard F., 203 Napoleon I, 38, 62, 63, 64, 83 Nekrassov, Alexei, 191 Nerly, Friedrich, 89 Neudorfer, Johann, 8, 18 Neumann, Carl, 132 Neumann, Jaromir, 248 Neumeyer, Alfred, 194, 210, 230 Neurdenburg, Elizabeth, 245 Niebuhr, Barthold Georg, 84 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 96, 99, 168 Nikolai, Friedrich, 51 Nissen, Benedikt Momme, 131 Nochlin, Linda, 235 Nolde, Emil, 155, 206 Nonnenwerth, Gertrud von, 8 Norberg-Schulz, Christian, 247 Novalis. See Hardenburg, Friedrich von Noyer, Sublet de, 23 Oberhuber, Konrad, 234, 245 Oechslin, Werner, 244 Oeri, Jakob, 101 Oeser, Adam Friedrich, 50, 57, 67 Offner, Richard, 228 Okakura, Kakuzo, 249 Okkonen, Onni, 247 Oprescu, George, 248 Opstall Gerard van, 38 Orcagna, Andrea di Cione, called, 5 Ostade, Adriaen van, 67, 88, 125 Overbeck, Johann Friedrich, 83, 91 Ovid, 16 Paalen, Isabel M. de, 46 Paatz, Walter, 194 Pacheco, Francisco, 17 Pacher, Michael, 210 Pacht, Otto, 157, 169-70, 239, 245 Pacioli, Luca, 6 Palladio, Andrea, 205, 222 Pallucchini, Rodolfo, 189, 243 Palomino y Velasco, Antonio, 20 Pane, Roberto, 188, 243 Panofsky, Erwin, 21, 22, 179, 190, 194, 196, 197, 198, 210, 213, 216, 217-20, 227, 228, 229, 230 Paolozzi, Eduardo, 46 Parker, Roszika, 238 Parmigianino, 170 Parrhasius, 1, 15 Pasiteles, 3 Passavant, Johann David, 83-84, 111 Passeri, Giovanni Battista, 17, 137 Pater, Walter, 150-51, 190


Patinier, Joachim, 7 Paul, Bruno, 140 Paul, Jean. See Richter, Jean Paul Pauli, Gustav, 120, 122, 213, 215 Paulsson, Gregor, 191, 246 Pausanias, 3, 56 Paxton, Joseph, 86, 106 Percier, Charles, 64 Pericles, 81, 99 Permoser, Balthasar, 38 Perugino, 110 Petranu, Coriolan, 248 Petrarch, 5, 123 Pevsner, Nikolaus, 137, 179, 210, 222, 236, 238 Pforr, Franz, 84 Phidias, 3, 44 , 57, 161 Philip, Lotte Brand, 210 Philipp, Hanna, 1 Philippe, Louis, King, 185 Phillips, Duncan, 183 Philoctetes, 39 Philostratus, Havius, the Elder, 2 Physin, Kata. See Ruskin, John Picasso, Pablo, 155, 180, 232, 238 Piero della Francesca, 6, 9, 181, 182, 244 Piles, Roger de, 15, 17, 20, 23, 24-25, 29, 36, 130 Pinder, Wilhelm, 200, 208, 209-10, 229, 242 Pini, Paolo, 11, 17 Pinturicchio, 109 Piranesi, Giambattista, 182 Pisanello, 188 Pisano, Giovanni, 188 Pissarro, Camille, 153 Pittaluga, Mary, 118 Planche, Gustave, 130 Platen, August von, 124 Plato, 1-2, 3, 27, 49, 57, 59 Pliny the Elder, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 37, 44, 56 Plotinus, 4, 27 Plummer, John, 231, 233 Plutarch, 2 Pochat, Gotz, 247 Podro, Michael, 238 Poliak, Ludwig, 37 Pollock, Jackson, 231, 233, 238 Pollock, Griselda, 238 Polyclitus, 39 Polydorus, 37 Pomponius Gauricus, 6 Pons, Anton, 53 Pope-Hennessy, John, 191 Poprzecka, Maria, 248 Porebski, Mieczyslaw, 248 Porter, Arthur Kingsley, 110, 189, 204, 231 Portoghesi, Paolo, 189, 244 Pougatschenkova, Galina A., 248 Poussin, Nicolas, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 30, 64, 88, 130, 181, 183, 219, 220, 225, 238, 240

Praxiteles, 1 Preller, Friedrich, 145 Presbyter, Theophilus, 4 Prinz, Wilhelm, 213 Prinzhorn, Hans, 199 Prior, E.S., 190 Proust, Marcel, 86, 189 Przybyczewski, Stanislaw, 154 Puget, Pierre, 39 Puyvelde, Leo van, 192, 246 Quicherat, Jules Etienne, 185 Quincy, Quatremere de, 63-64 Quintilian, 3 Rabelais, Francois, 123 Ragghianti, Carlo Ludovico, 189, 243 Rahn, Rudolf, 173 Raimondi, Marcantonio, 185 Ramirez, Juan-Antonio, 247 Ranke, Leopold von, 95, 98, 137 Raphael, 6-7, 8, 15, 23, 24, 25, 30, 31-32, 34, 52, 64, 65, 66, 69, 79, 82, 84, 114, 125-26, 130, 178, 183, 184, 186, 225 Raumer, Friedrich von, 116, 117, 130 Rauschenberg, Robert, 231 Read, Herbert, 171, 172 , 236-37 Reau, Louis, 242 Reese, Thomas, 230-31 Reidemeister, Leopold, 194 Reifenberg, Benno, 155 Reinach, Salomon, 187 Reinhardt, Ad, 233 Reininck, Adrian Wessel, 246 Rembrandt van Rijn, 18-19, 20, 24, 34, 69, 99, 116, 117, 130-32, 149, 219, 225, 246, 248 Renan, Ernest, 103 Reni, Guido, 18, 30 Renoir, Auguste, 154 Resta, Sebastiano, 34 Reutersvard, Oscar, 246 Reutersvard, Patrick, 246 Reynolds, Joshua, 28-29, 36, 57, 89 Ribera, Jusepe de, 200 Ricci, Corrado, 187-88 Richardson, Jonathan, Sr., 28, 39, 64 Richardson, Jonathan, Jr., 28, 64 Richelieu, Cardinal, 23 Richter, Gisela Marie Augusta, 210 Richter, Jean Paul [pseud. Jean Paul], 76, 106, 109, 111, 160 Richter, Ludwig, 145 Ridolfi, Carlo, 18 Riedel, Johann Gottfried, 50 Riegl, Alois, 103, 116, 135, 136-37, 162-64, 173, 178, 185, 203, 218, 231 Riehl, Wilhelm Heinrich, 103, 164 Rigaud, Hyacinthe, 30 Rintelen, Friedrich, 183, 207-08 Rio, Alexis Francois, 82 Rivius, Walter, 15

Index of Names

Rodin, Auguste, 187 Roethlisberger, Marcel, 221 Romano, Giulio, 23, 225 Ronen, Avraham, 249 Rooses, Max, 192 Roosval, Johnny, 179, 191, 246 Rosand, David, 233 Rosenau, Helen, 64, 217, 236 Rosenberg, Adolf, 202 Rosenberg, Jacob, 229 Rosenberg, Pierre, 243 Rosenblum, Robert, 235 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 85 Rothko, Mark, 233 Rousseau, Henri, 155, 199 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 29, 31, 56, 57, 83 Rubens, Peter Paul, 20, 24, 25, 69, 72-73, 79, 92, 117, 130, 135, 136, 153, 156, 178 Rubin, William, 233, 199 Riidlinger, Arnold, 244 Rudolf II of Hapsburg, 188 Rumohr, Karl Friedrich von, 36, 84, 87-89, 91, 92, 110, 139, 251-52 Runge, Philipp Otto, 79 Ruisdael [Ruysdael], Jakob van, 87, 195 Ruskin, John, 83, 84-86, 103, 106, 114, 150, 180, 187, 190, 251 Rykwert, Joseph, 238 Saalman, Howard, 234 Sacchetti, Franco, 5 Sachs, Paul ]., 204 Saint-Aubin, Augustin, 149 Saint-Aubin, Charles Germain de, 149 Saint-Aubin, Jacques, 149 Saint-Beuve, Charles-Augustin, 31 Salis, Arnold von, 99 Salles, Georges, 242 Salmi, Mario, 189, 243 Salvini, Roberto, 171, 189, 243 Samaras, Lucas, 233 Sandrart, Joachim von, 6, 18-19, 20, 23, 77, 130, 131, 144 Sansovino, Jacopo, 9, 38 Santi, Giovanni, 6 Sanzio, Raffaello. See Raphael Sarburgh, Bartholomaus, 141-48 Sartre, Jean Paul, 124, 243 Sasseta, Francesco, 215 Sassoferrato, 141 Satie, Erik, 182 Sauerlander, Willibald, 221, 242 Savonarola, Michele, 6 Saxl, Fritz, 157, 210, 213, 216 Schack, Adolf Friedrich von, 87 Schapiro, Meyer, 118, 169, 231-33, 235, 237 Scheffer, Ary, 125 Scheffler, Karl, 100, 139, 199-200 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von, 56, 60, 81, 89, 171 Scheurl, Christoph, 8, 15

Schiff, Gert, 234 Schiller, Friedrich von, 39, 56, 57, 59, 60, 61 Schinkel, Karl Friedrich, 64, 65, 91 Schlegel, August Wilhelm von, 36, 56, 57, 59-60, 61, 78-79, 82, 83, 87, 89, 123 Schlegel, Caroline von, 79, 87 Schlegel, Friedrich von, 57, 60, 78-79, 80, 82, 83, 87, 89, 123 Schleiermacher, Friedrich, 89 Schlosser, Julius von, 15, 107, 157-58, 159, 160, 161, 162, 164, 166, 168-69, 207, 225 Schmarsow, August, 137, 162, 163, 173-75, 209, 211 Schmid, H.A., 125 Schmidt, Georg, 178, 244 Schmidt-Rottluff, Karl, 199 Schmoll, J.A. (Eisenwerth), 227, 242 Schnaase, Carl, 62, 92, 93-94, 115, 120, 122, 147, 158, 162 Schnorr von Carolsfeld, Julius, 91, 145 Scholle, Johann Georg, 48 Schone, Wolfgang, 242 Schopenhauer, Arthur, 45, 59, 99, 203 Schreiber, Heinrich, 95 Schultz, Alwin, 136 Schulze, Johann Heinrich, 48, 65 Schumacher, Fritz, 213 Schurz, Carl, 115 Schwarz, Heinrich, 210 Schweitzer, Bernhard, 1, 76 Scopas, 1 Scott, Geoffrey, 189 Scott, Walter, 75, 123 Sedaine, Michel, 31 Sedlmayr, Hans, 157, 163, 169-70, 200, 207, 210, 239 Segal, George, 233 Seidler, Louise, 72 Seidlitz, Woldemar von, 131, 138 Sekler, Eduard, 234, 245 Sell, Gottfried, 49 Semper, Gottfried, 103, 105-06, 162, 174 Seymour, Charles H., 230, 235 Seraphine, 199 Sesostris, 81 Seznec, Jean, 187, 221, 242 Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, Lord, 27, 66, 69 Shakespeare, William, 126, 130, 132 Shearman, John, 221 Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 123 Shiff, Richard, 235 Shimada, Shujiro, 249 Sickel, Theodor von, 160 Signac, Paul, 180 Simmel, Georg, 132, 154, 202 Siren, Osvald, 191, 246 Six, Jan, 131 Skubiszewski, Piotr, 248 Slive, Seymour, 229 Smirnov, G.V., 248

Socrates, 1 Soehner, Halldor, 200 Sokolova, Natalia Ivanova, 248 Solari, Cristoforo, called il Gobbo, 108 Solario, Andrea, 240 Sophocles, 37, 39, 49, 57, 161 Specklin, Daniel, 15 Speckter, Otto, 88 Spengler, Oswald, 200 Spranger, Bartholomaus, 16 Springer, Anton, 103, 106, 113, 119-23, 131 Springer, Jaro, 120 Stael, Germaine, Madame de, 57 Stange, A., 210 Stauffer-Bem, Karl, 46 Stechow, Wolfgang, 193, 210 Steen, Jan, 20 Steffens, Hinrich, 87, 91, 92 Stein, Gertrude, 124, 181 Steinbach, Erwin von, 67 Steinberg, Leo, 223, 233, 234-35 Steinla, Mauritius, 148 Stendhal. See Beyle, Marie Henri Sterling, Charles, 182 Sterling, M., 221 Stifter, Adalbert, 124 Stimmer, Tobias, 15 Storm, Theodor, 90 Strachey, Lytton, 181 Strauss, D.F., 151 Strauss, Walter L., 132 Stravinsky, Igor, 182 Stresemann, Gustav, 213 Strich, Fritz, 179 Strindberg, August, 124, 154 Stroud, Dorothy, 238 Strzygowski, Josef, 164-66, 168, 242 Suger, Abbot, 4 Suida, W.E., 210, Sulzer, J.G., 67 Summerson, John, 238 Sumowski, Werner, 241 Swarzenski, Georg, 229 Swarzenski, Hanns, 194 Swinburne, Algernon, 124 Swoboda, Karl Maria, 170, 245 Sydow, Eckart von, 199 Symons, Arthur, 150 Syrlin, Jorg, 198 Szambien, Werner, 243 Tafuri, Manfredo, 189, 244 Tagore, Rabindranath, 166 Taine, Hippolyte, 103, 104, 128, 186 Takashima, Shuji, 249 Taube, Otto von, 193 Tempesta, Pietro, 53 Thackeray, William Makepeace, 85 Thausing, Moritz, 106-07, 123, 132, 134, 140, 145, 159-60, 164 Thode, Henry, 133-35, 139, 140, 149, 157


Index of Names

Thoma, Hans, 131, 134 Thorak, Josef, 140 Thore, Theophile, 117, 130 Thorvaldsen, Bertel, 65 Thuillier, Jacques, 243 Thun, Leo, 158-59 Tieck, Ludwig, 78, 87, 91, 123, 145 Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista, 178, 182 Tietze, Hans, 163, 167, 169, 210 Tietze-Conrat, Erika, 210 Tikkanen, J.J., 191 Tintoretto, 11, 150, 156, 167 Tiraboschi, Girolamo, 82 Tischbein, Friedrich August, 209 Titian, 9, 11, 15, 21, 24, 34, 52, 109, 114, 117, 130, 141, 150, 183 Titus, 37 Toesca, Pietro, 244 Tolnay, Charles de, 157, 170, 210, 228 Tolstoy, Leo, 84, 124 Toorop, Jan, 199 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 103 Toynbee, Arnold, 86 Treitschke, Heinrich von, 113. 154 Troscher, Georg, 194 Tschudi, Hugo von, 134, 159 Tschudi-Madsen, Stephan, 247 Tuchman, Maurice, 233 Turner, William, 84-85 Tzara, Tristan, 124

Vien, Joseph Marie, 56 Vignola, Giacomo da, 64 Villani, Filippo, 5, 6, 11 Villers, Alexander von, 171 Vincent of Beauvais, 4 Vinci, Leonardo da, 6-7, 8, 17, 21, 30, 34, 108, 125, 140, 141, 150, 186, 233 Viollet-le-Duc, Eugene, 103, 104-05, 106, 124 Virgil, 37, 39, 42, 43 Vischer, Friedrich Theodor, 136, 151 Vischer, Peter, 35 Vischer, Robert, 151-53, 159, 171, 185, 203 Visconti, Ennio Quirino, 42, 56, 62-63 Visconti, Giovanni Battista, 62 Vitruvius, 3,6,7,15,64,222 Vitry, Paul, 186,187 Vivin, Louis, 199 Vlaminck, Maurice, 199 Voge, Wilhelm, 123, 180, 183, 184, 193, 196-98, 208, 217, 220, 231, 239, 240, 252 Vogel, Hugo, 213 Vogt, Adolf Max, 245 Vogt-Goknil, Ulya, 244 Voigts, G., 98 Voltaire, 31, 50, 56, 83 Voss, Hermann, 137 Vossler, Karl, 9 Vries, Adriaen de, 38

Uhde, Wilhelm, 133, 199 Uhland, Ludwig, 151 Utamaro, Kitagawa, 149

Waagen, Gustav Friedrich, 87, 91-92, 111, 122, 126, 139, 145, 146-47, 158 Waal, H. van de, 245 Wachsmuth, R. 113 Wackenroder, Wilhelm Heinrich, 36, 76, 77-78 Waetzoldt, Wilhelm, 151, 179, 213, 239 Wagner, Adolf, 154 Wagner, Richard, 99 Wagner-Rieger, Renate, 245 Walden, Herwarth, 124 Waldmann, Emil, 133, 156 Waldmiiller, Ferdinand, 158 Wall, Sigurd, 191 Walpole, Horace, 57, 75, 123 Warburg, Aby, 12, 174, 180, 196, 197, 211-16, 224, 225, 237, 252 Warin, Jean, 186 Warnke, Martin, 241, 242 Watson, David, 85 Watteau, Jean-Antoine, 25, 125, 149, 150 Weisbach, Werner, 132, 137, 140, 151, 174, 183, 185, 190, 197, 215 Weitzmann, Kurt, 210, 228 Wescher, Paul, 62 West, Benjamin, 56

Valentiner, W.R., 132, 210 Vallotton, Felix, 154 Vanvitelli, Luigi, 64 Varchi, Benedetto, 8 Vasari, Giorgio, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11-20, 21, 23, 35, 36, 88, 98, 112, 127, 251 Vata§ianu, Virgil, 188, 248 Vautier, Benjamin, 125 Vecchio, Palma, 24, 30, 109 Velazquez, Diego Rodriguez, 20, 117, 125, 128-29, 133, 136, 156, 184, 186, 200 Velde, Henry van de, 154 Venturi, Adolfo, 112, 114, 187-88, 214, 243, 244 Venturi, Lionello, 3, 114, 243 Venturi, Robert, 231 Venuti, Ridolfino, 30 Verhaeren, Emile, 124, 132 Vermeer, Jan, 117, 240 Veronese, Paolo, 33 Verrocchio, Andrea del, 186 Veth, Jan, 132


Weyden, Rogier van der, 6, 7 Wharton, Edith, 189 Whitman, Robert, 233 Wickhoff, Franz, 47, 67, 106, 134, 137, 149, 159, 160-62, 164, 167, 169, 173, 189 Wieland, Christoph Martin, 68, 77 Wilde, Johannes, 236 Wilde, Oscar, 1, 86, 124, 150, 190 Wildenbruch, Ernst von, 127 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 129 Wilhelm II, Prince of Prussia, 145, 152 Winckelmann, Johann Joachim, 3, 25-26, 27, 30, 31, 39, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47-58, 59, 60, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 70, 72, 76-77, 78, 82, 88, 97, 98-99, 105, 128, 150, 163, 251-52 Wind, Edgar, 65, 210, 216-17 Winkler, Friedrich, 197 Winner, Matthias, 241 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 240 Wittkower, Rudolf, 137, 194, 210, 222-23 Wittkower, Margot, 222 Woermann, Karl, 113, 138, 145, 148 Wolfflin, Heinrich, 61, 77, 95, 98, 101, 126, 136-37, 148, 151, 153, 175, 176-80, 182, 184, 193, 202, 216, 218 Woltmann, Alfred, 145, 147, 148 Woolf, Leonard, 181 Woolf, Virginia, 180, 181 Womum, Nicholas Ralph, 147, 172, 190 Worringer, Wilhelm, 179, 202-04 Wouwerman, Philips, 20 Wren, Christopher, 64 Wright, Frank Lloyd, 198, 199 Wulff, Oscar, 174, 177, 191, 223, 248 Wundt, Wilhelm, 151, 200 Xenocrates, 2, 3, 5 Xenophon, 1, 49 Yamada, Chisaburo, 249 Yashiro, Yukio, 249 Yeats, William Butler, 124, 150 Zahn, Albert von, 141, 147, 148 Zadkine, Ossip, 46 Zaloascer, Hilde, 245 Zanten, Ann Lorenz van, 235 Zeitler, Rudolt, 191, 246 Zeri, Federicq, 244 Zemer, Henri, 233 Zervos, Christian, 243 Zeuxis, 15 Zevi, Bruno, 244 Zola, Emile, 124 Zuccaro, Federico, 17, 21 Zucker, Paul, 210 Zurbaran, Francisco de, 200


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