Mikó Árpád szerk.: "Magnificat anima mea Dominum" M S Mester vizitáció-képe és egykori selmecbányai főoltára (A Magyar Nemzeti Galéria kiadványai 1997/1)

TANULMÁNYOK / ESSAYS - MOJZER MIKLÓS: A festő hagyatéka, ahogyan ma látjuk

others in the group of paintings, which were presented to the viewers with the wings of the altarpiece closed. Visitation could have been - or could be - presented as an individual work of art, and probably this is the reason why this particular panel had, in the course of history, become separated from the other pieces of the series, living its own life and assuming an independent function. Could the same fate have, perhaps, befallen the panel Annunciation? There was a time, when the relative aloofness of Visitation irradiated to Nativity, also, leading some experts to believe that these two panels could not have belonged to the same altarpiece, and even to suggest that they had been the works of two different painters. Although this view failed to attract followers, it did pose a difficult question: What were the limits which confined the artist in his work? What were the limits of his versatility of style and genre? Can we be sure that, had Visitation been the only work surviving on a panel of different size and wood, we would have attributed the other panels, Lille's Adoration and the Mount of Olives, to the same artist? That dancing gait against a landscape drapery woven by the painter is definitely different from the various elements of the latter two compositions, which themselves have dissimilar elements. Because Visitation, regardless of the fact that it is truly characteristic of the artist, reveals very little about him. It reveals very little about the painter's geographic, national or artistic origins and schooling. Being a spiritual and ideal fashion image, the panel is less tangible for art historical analysis than its companions, the Nativity and the Passion Scenes, which have recently been restored by Dezső Varga. These are much easier to analyze. Their earliest archetypes derive from Schongauer's engravings; then there is the almost analytical application of the young Dürer's woodcuts and copperplate engravings, insofar as the painter, in the interest of a new kind of expressivity, redramatized the German forerunners and, surprisingly often, their Italian masters, too, and did that in a direct way. He must have seen almost all the engravings and the details produced by Pollaiuolo, along with those by Mantegna and his followers. However, he managed to adapt these influences to his own style so well, placing them into a new context so successfully, that for a long time no one realized just how much his work had been affected by his familiarity with the drawings and figures of the Italian Renaissance. Albeit, to a varying degree, he was able to conceal this. Being a master of compositions featuring large figures, his characters dominated the details: he denoted the surrounding with the help of background details. Although he was a painter who possessed a flair for monumentality, he was interested neither in perspectival space, nor in any canon concerning the proportions of his figures. He represented the illusion of reality, a wonderfully play-acted animateness. He painted roles and characters, whom he could change according to their momentary emotions, drama or situation, personality traits, bodily appearance or fate. If we compare the corresponding representations of the same characters in the various paintings of the Passion series, we will find that they look different. Christ himself has four different demeanours: his face conveys anxiety in the Mount of Olives; he looks tormented in Carrying of the Cross; his death is depleting in Crucifixion; and his ecstasy is glorifying in Resurrection (although in this case the desired effect was achieved not so much by the facial expression, as by the depiction of the body). Therefore, these aspects were more important than the requirement that the central character should have the same facial appearance in each episode. We do not start, therefore, by wondering whether or not Christ's feet are drawn out of proportion in Resurrection. Of course, they are, but, regardless of the point whether it was done deliberately or unintentionally on the artist's part, the explanation might be that the overdrawn feet form the base of the spiritualized body, and therefore this could be the artistic exaggeration of the point that Christ's Resurrection took place both in the physical and corporeal sense. Every scene is full of allusions. The flowers of Visitation, along with almost all the details in the background, are references to Mary, corresponding to the metaphorical expressions of the meditations. The same applies to the Passion scenes. Christ's fingers thrown into a spasm were paralleled by the gnarled branches of the dried-out tree; the waving perizonium was repeated in the flag of the Synagogue, and also in the Church's flag, the flag of Resurrection, bearing the sign of the cross. The sleeping apostles of the Mount of Olives juxtaposed with the sleeping soldiers of Resurrection, or Jude's group with the small company of holy women of the same painting - these figures all form counterpoints and analogies of one another. These are moving representations in the strict and devotional sense of the word. To use a modern analogy, their effect is similar to that of a movie scene freeze-framed at the most dramatic moment, thus enabling the viewers to capture and hold the image in their mind forever. Admittedly, the composition resembles a tableau vivant: Simon of Cyrene looks almost like a model striking a pose, and the soldier, instead of lashing down, seems quite content with raising his whip. Then there is the Roman centurion, whose posture suggests prophesying, rather than confessing his faith, while the second Mary abandons herself to grief as if she was all by herself. Yet, the death of God's son is powerfully narrated by the whole group, considering the rather unusual compositional conception, whereby only the mortal body of the Redeemer is nailed to the cross. The painter is such a clever and refined colourist that it would be difficult to compare any of his contempo-