The Crucifixion

The Painting: The diminutive size of this panel and its doll-like figures remind one immediately of illuminated manuscripts and the imagery that accompanies texts recited during daily devotions. The painting elicits the empathy of the viewer with the agony of Christ on the cross and the sorrow of the Virgin Mary, as she collapses in the arms of Christ’s beloved disciple, John. The Virgin clasps her hands in prayer as she and John look up at Christ, observing his dying moments. Mary Magdalen embraces the cross in her attempt to be near to and share the suffering of her Savior. From her belt hangs a large prayer nut and a rosary for reciting her prayers. Sitting on the hill nearby, an unidentified figure quietly weeps. Christ’s right side has been pierced by the lance of the Roman soldier Longinus, verifying his death, and overhead the sky has suddenly darkened in response to the moment. According to the Gospel of Saint Luke 23:44–46: “It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ When he had said this, he took his last breath.”

Soldiers on horseback ride off from the event, and visually separate the foreground from the background where a Flemish town is substituted for Jerusalem, only referenced by the octagonal building meant to represent the Holy Sepulchre. To the right the Annunciation takes place in an open porch. It signals Christ’s Incarnation and the beginning of his life on earth, just as the Crucifixion represents his last moments. However, there is further meaning for this juxtaposition of key episodes from Christ’s life that were thought to have taken place on the same day of the year.[1] As Veronique Sintobin (1998) has pointed out, this pairing of scenes “accords with a medieval tradition that dedicates March 25 to the memory of Adam, the Annunciation, and the death of Christ, thus expressing the connection between the Fall [of man], the Conception of Christ, and the fulfillment of man’s redemption through his death.”

The Attribution and Date: This Crucifixion was originally assigned to Gerard van der Meire when it appeared in the 1883 Nieuwenhuys sale (see References); but, as it turned out, this was based on two falsely signed works given to an artist who is otherwise undocumented and by whom no works are known (Bauman 1984). Thereafter, when the painting was exhibited in Vienna in 1930 (see Exhibition History), Otto Pächt attributed it to Jan Provoost as an early work. Ludwig Baldass (1930) and Hans Tietze (1930) concurred, the latter not without certain qualms due to the lack of knowledge about Provoost’s nascent career. Nonetheless, Friedländer (1931) embraced the notion of it as exemplary of Provoost’s initial production, dating it between 1490–1500, and comparing it to a Crucifixion in the St. Louis Art Museum (see fig. 1 above).

Little is known about Provoost’s origins and training. He can be placed in Valenciennes in the late 1480s, since after Simon Marmion’s death in 1489, Provoost married his widow, Johanna de Quarube, in 1491. This has led to speculation that Provoost worked in Marmion’s atelier, completing his training there with this master who worked in both manuscript illumination and panel painting.[2] By 1494, Provoost was a citizen in Bruges, and it is thereafter that his oeuvre can be more reliably reconstructed.[3] He joined the Corporation of Image- and Saddle-makers, holding several prestigious positions in the guild, and receiving important commissions. Thus, the reconstruction of Provoost’s early works has been based on his later oeuvre, with the cautionary appellation “attributed to” added to Provoost’s name in the more recent scholarship concerning The Met’s Crucifixion (Bauman 1984, Sintobin 1998).

Ron Spronk has reconsidered the oeuvre of Provoost beginning with his 1993 dissertation for Groningen University and subsequently with technical studies of the attributed paintings in preparation for a forthcoming monograph.[4] His investigations, as well as a few earlier studies carried out by Molly Faries and Maryan Ainsworth, have provided additional information about the artist’s working procedures that help to clarify questions of attribution.[5] The St. Louis Art Museum Crucifixion, one of a trio of diminutive paintings including a Flagellation and a Lamentation attributed to Provoost,[6] which Friedländer connected to The Met’s painting, already drew a skeptical response from Nicole Reynaud in a 1975 article.[7] She noted the “tormented and dolorous expressionism” uncharacteristic of Provoost either in his early or later works. Moreover, a direct comparison between the St. Louis and Met Crucifixions shows in the latter a more ambitious composition, with a developed concept of spatial recession and convincing placement of figures within rather than simply at the foreground plane. The figures in The Met painting are portrayed with well-articulated bodies that incorporate a sophisticated treatment of the volumes of forms through convincing modeling of the figures. The St. Louis painting figures, by contrast, appear as flat, cut-out forms against a stage-like backdrop. Moreover, the underdrawing, or initial sketch on the panel of each of these paintings, does not show the same hand at work (compare figs. 2, 3). The Met painting reveals a distinctive underdrawing featuring paperclip-shaped folds and hardly perceptible hatching (for example, in the lower part of the Virgin’s draperies and near the bend of Mary Magdalen’s left knee in her draperies) for the modeling of the figures. The St. Louis panel figures, by contrast, are worked up with straight contour lines for the folds of garments and abundant parallel hatching that suggests the modeling.

However, there are some works that show a closer comparison with The Met’s Crucifixion, suggesting that it might still be considered within the orbit of Provoost’s production. First of all, there seems to be a connection with Simon Marmion’s illuminations in terms of the compositional scheme. That is to say, there is a shared strategy of placing the figures in the immediate foreground, against overlapping hills—sometimes with a meandering path—in the middle ground, and a cityscape on the horizon. This is readily apparent in Marmion’s Crucifixions of the Korner Hours of the 1470s, a single leaf in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, of the 1460s, and in the Huth Hours of the 1480s (figs. 4, 5, 6),[8] as well as in a panel painting by Marmion, the Lamentation about 1473 in The Met’s Lehman Collection (1975.1.128). The St. Louis Crucifixion and Lamentation also share this scheme to a less developed degree.

It is worth noting that the Lamentation at the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Mass. —also attributed to Provoost—although not by the same hand as The Met painting, shows similar figure types to those we find in The Met’s painting, particularly the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalen, and to a lesser extent, Christ (figs. 7–10). Both paintings concentrate on the foreground depiction of specific flowering plants, the overlapping hills of the middle-ground, and the Gothic towers on the horizon line. Given these associations of The Met’s painting with works by Simon Marmion, perhaps Provoost’s teacher in Valenciennes, and with another painting within the Provoost group, it is appropriate to consider The Met’s painting as in the circle of or orbit of Provoost in Bruges. In connection with these associated works, it should date about 1495.

Maryan W. Ainsworth 2022

[1] Gertrud Schiller, Iconography of Christian Art, vol. 1: “The Annunciation to Mary”, Greenwich, Ct., 1971, p. 34; and John Malcolm Russell, “The Iconography of the Friedsam Annunciation,” Art Bulletin 58 (March 1978), p. 27.
[2] On Marmion’s work and career, see Thomas Kren, ed., Margaret of York, Simon Marmion, and The Visions of Tondal, J. Paul Getty Museum, Malibu, 1992.
[3] See Ron Spronk, Jan Provoost, Art Historical and Technical Examinations, Doctoraalscriptie, Rijksuniversiteit Groningen, October 1993; and Ron Spronk in Maximiliaan P. J. Martens, ed., Bruges and the Renaissance: Memling to Pourbus, exh. cat. Bruges, Memlingmuseum, Ghent, 1998, pp. 94–108; and in the accompanying volume Bruges et la Renaissance. De Memling à Pourbus: Notices, Ghent, 1998, pp. 31–48.
[4] Ibid., and the following: Ron Spronk: “An Early Sixteenth-Century Last Judgment by Jan Provoost,” in Roger van Schoute and Hélène Verougstraete, eds., Le Dessin sous-jacent et Technologie de la Peinture. Perspectives, Colloque 11, Le Dessin sous-jacent dans la Peinture, 1995, Louvain-la-Neuve, 1997, pp. 43–51; “Tracing in the Making of Jan Provoost’s Last Judgment Through Technical Examinations and Digital Imaging,” Bulletin of the Detroit Institute of Arts, no. 72, 1998, pp. 66–79; “The Underdrawing of Jan Provoost’s Crucifixion,” in Hélène Verougstraete and Roger van Schoute, eds., Le Peinture dans les Pays-Bas au 16e Siècle, Pratiques d’Atelier Infrarouges et Autres Méthodes d’Investigation, Colloque XII, Le Dessin sous-jacent et la Technologie dans la Peinture, 1997, Leuven, 1999, pp. 37–48; “The Reconstruction of a Triptych by Jan Provoost for the Jerusalem Chapel in Bruges,” Burlington Magazine, no. 147 (2005), pp. 109–11. Most recently, see Ron Spronk et al., Jan Provoost, O Triptico de Nossa Senhora da Misericórdia, exh. cat., Lisbon, Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, September 2012, Lisbon, 2012.
[5] Molly Faries, “The Underdrawings of Jan Provoost’s Last Judgment and Related Paintings,” in Roger van Schoute and Hélène Verougstraete-Marcq, eds., Geographie et Chronologie du Dessin sous-jacent, Colloque VII Le Dessin sous-jacent dans la Peinture, 1987, Louvain-la-Neuve, 1989, pp. 137–44. Maryan Wynn Ainsworth and Molly Faries, “Northern Renaissance Paintings, The Discovery of Invention,” St. Louis Art Museum, Summer Bulletin (1986), pp. 9–10, 38.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Nicole Reynaud, “Une Allégorie sacrée de Jan Provost,” Revue du Louvre XXV (1975), p. 9 and n. 5.
[8] I am grateful to Thomas Kren for pointing out to me these examples of Marmion’s illuminations.

Support: The original support is not accessible for examination; at some point before entering The Met’s collection, wood strips were applied to all four edges, a secondary wood support was adhered to the reverse, and it was then cradled. It is most likely that the original support was a wood panel, but it is possible that the painting was made on paper or parchment and then laid down on wood. Identification of a paper or parchment support is difficult in the absence of some tell-tale signs, such as tears or its appearance in the x-radiograph (see. fig. 11 above), or the removal of a sample.[1] The cracks in the paint are not entirely typical of a panel painting—several run diagonally instead of in the vertical and horizontal directions—otherwise, visual examination of the paint surface suggested that it was made on panel.

The original dimensions of the painting appear to be nearly preserved. There are no clear signs of a barbe at the edges, however there are what could be unpainted margins at the top and bottom. The edge of the original painted composition ends about 6 mm from the edge of the current painting at top and bottom; a restorer extended the composition in these regions over unpainted wood. This unpainted wood could be original wood margins, related to an engaged frame, or a secondary support onto which a paper or parchment was laid down. There is a faint vertical incision in the paint, beginning at the upper left corner and running down the left edge, about 2–3 mm from the left edge of the painted composition. The artist may have used incisions to set out the dimensions of the painting or the frame, suggesting the original left edge is intact. There are no such incisions on the other edges, however, for the cross to remain centered, the right side must be preserved, or nearly so.

Preparation: The original support was prepared with a whitish ground, likely containing chalk. Examination with infrared reflectography revealed the presence of an extensive underdrawing, executed using what appears to be a dry medium (fig. 12).[2] The underdrawing set out the most important details of the scene and the background in a very free and seemingly rapid manner, yielding rough indications of a composition for the painting to follow. Contour lines are often quite wavy, as in Christ’s torso and Mary Magdalen’s right sleeve, and eyes are simple circles. Buildings in the background were indicated by simple, rough shapes. The placement of many contours and facial features in this very loose underdrawing was necessarily adjusted and refined in the painting. A striking feature of the underdrawing is the short curving strokes, often with one or two hooks on the ends, which indicate drapery folds.

In addition to the incision near the left edge, the horizontal member of the cross was also incised.

Paint Layers: The polished and precise appearance of this exquisite painting impresses; the artist conveyed the composed and quiet grief of the main figures with subtlety while rendering small details of costume and background with care. On close examination, the confidence and ingenuity with which the artist worked, painting wet-in-wet with few corrections, is remarkable. For example, the artist used wet-in-wet paint to enliven the shaded regions of the faces, as in the brown lines under the lips of the Virgin or the very small curving strokes in the cheek of Mary Magdalen (figs. 13–14). The artist varied his approach in other passages, using feathering strokes to ease the transitions from light to dark in Saint John’s billowing white cloak while further emphasizing its movement (fig. 15). The very bright red robes of John and the grieving figure in profile at right were painted with red lakes, tamped down with fabric during the application process. This picture was clearly made by an artist adept at working in oil paint.

The x-radiograph reveals that the artist did not restrict his use of lead white strictly to highlights but mixed white throughout his fleshtones. In the painting this is seen in the blending of somewhat opaque paint mixtures rather than the application of warm glazes and limited highlights. He then used bright, nearly white highlights in a final step to set off features, at the bridges of noses or around the Virgin’s or John’s eye, or Christ’s collarbone. He also used final touches of bold colors to give emphasis to expressions or help set off forms, such as in the dark brown strokes at nostrils and under lips, and the bright red around the eyes of grieving figures or setting off the soldier’s lips. These bold colors, precisely applied, give great depth to the figures.

One possibly unusual method of applying paint was noted: Mary Magdalen’s pinkish sleeves have a bluish tinge and close examination revealed a small amount of blue pigment that seems evenly dispersed across her sleeves. More commonly blue would have been mixed into the rest of the paint, with a greater concentration in shadows to help give a sense of depth. In this case, it seems that the folds were first created with the red paint, which appears to be a lake, and the blue was only added in a final step, perhaps reflecting a decision to alter the color.

The artist made only a few changes while painting. He enlarged Saint John’s white cloak from its initial form, to billow out further behind him. It appears that there was a slight adjustment to the tower located in the background above John’s head, which may have begun as a narrower building. Some contours were slightly adjusted, like Mary Magdalen’s proper right cheek, made wider in the final painting.

The painting is well preserved. There is some minor rubbing and very minor surface defects.

Sophie Scully 2022

[1] The technical notes in the 1984 catalogue of the Linsky collection (Bauman, 1984, p. 65) suggested that the painting may have been executed on canvas or parchment laid on wood, due to the diagonal striated cracquelure and thick impasto, not characteristic of panel painting. A new x-radiograph revealed a small region of narrow horizontal bands intersected by a few vertical bands, reminiscent of chain and laid lines. However, this could be an optical effect caused by the intersection of broad horizontal paintstrokes over a vertical wood grain. This phenomenon was not noted elsewhere in the radiography.
[2] Infrared reflectography was acquired with an OSIRIS InGaAs near-infrared camera fitted with a 6-element, 150 mm focal length f/5.6–f/45 lens; 900-1700 nm spectral response, October 2022.

Inscription: Inscribed (top center, on cross): INRI

Colonel Hugh Duncan Baillie (?acquired in Spain); [C. J. Nieuwenhuys, Brussels, until d. 1883; his estate sale, May 4, 1883, no. 13, as by Gerard vander Meire]; Eugen Felix, Leipzig; sale, Christie's, London, July 14, 1911, no. 19, as by Van der Meire, to Agnew; [Agnew, London; 1911–12; sold to Bondy]; Oscar Bondy, Vienna, later Switzerland and New York (by 1912–d. 1944); Mrs. Oscar (Elisabeth) Bondy, New York (?1944–51); [Newhouse Galleries, New York, ?1951]; ?John Myers, Ohio (1951–55); [Newhouse Galleries, New York, ?1955]; Mr. and Mrs. Jack Linsky, New York (1955–his d. 1980); Mrs. Jack Linsky, New York (1980–82)

Vienna. Secession. "Drei Jahrhunderte Vlämische Kunst: 1400–1700," January 11–February 23, 1930, no. 22 (as by Jan Provost, lent by Oscar Bondy).

New York. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. "From Van Eyck to Bruegel: Early Netherlandish Painting in The Metropolitan Museum of Art," September 22, 1998–February 21, 1999, no. 19.

THIS WORK MAY NOT BE LENT, BY TERMS OF ITS ACQUISITION BY THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART.

Tableaux anciens et modernes . . . laissés par C. J. Nieuwenhuys. Galerie Saint–Luc, Brussels. May 4, 1883, p. 20, no. 13, ill., as by Gerard van der Meire, previously in the collection of Colonel Hugh Baillie, acquired in Spain during the invasion of Napoleon's army.

Hans Tietze. "Exhibition of Flemish Art at Vienna." Formes 4 (April 1930), finds Pächt's attribution of this picture to Jan Provost (see exh. cat., Vienna, 1930) "rather daring...since our knowledge of Jan Provost is derived almost entirely from the works of his maturity".

Drei Jahrhunderte vlämische Kunst: 1400–1700. Exh. cat., Secession. Vienna, 1930, p. 24, no. 22, attribute it to Provost, noting that Otto Pächt considers this panel one of the artist's early works.

Ludwig von Baldass. "Drei Jahrhunderte flämische Malerei." Pantheon 5 (January–June 1930), p. 132, supports Pächt's identification of this panel as an early work of Jan Provost, comments on the striking iconography, and sees a distinct connection with the art of Hugo van der Goes.

Max J. Friedländer. Die altniederländische Malerei. Vol. 9, Joos van Cleve, Jan Provost, Joachim Patenier. Berlin, 1931, pp. 83–84, 148, no. 148, dates it between 1490 and 1500, based on the horseman's dress, and considers it possibly one of Provost's earliest works; calls its style "heavy and sluggish," but comments on the "unconventional aspects" of the composition.

M. J. Friedländer in Allgemeines Lexikon der bildenden Künstler. Ed. Hans Vollmer. Vol. 27, Leipzig, 1933, p. 429.

Guy C. Bauman in The Jack and Belle Linsky Collection in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1984, pp. 65–67, no. 21, ill. (color), dates it about 1495; observes that it fits logically into Provost's stylistic development and offers, in embryonic form, numerous formal qualities and physical types analogous to those in later works.

Guy Bauman in The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Notable Acquisitions, 1983–1984. New York, 1984, pp. 52–53, ill.

Katharine Baetjer. European Paintings in The Metropolitan Museum of Art by Artists Born Before 1865: A Summary Catalogue. New York, 1995, p. 262, ill. p. 263.

Véronique Sintobin in From Van Eyck to Bruegel: Early Netherlandish Painting in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Ed. Maryan W. Ainsworth and Keith Christiansen. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1998, pp. 136–37, no. 19, ill. (color) , catalogues it as "Attributed to Jan Provost," about 1495, adding that it is one of the earliest known works attributable to the artist.

This work may not be lent, by terms of its acquisition by The Metropolitan Museum of Art.