On the Anatomization of an Unknown Man (1637) by Frans Mier by John Connolly Page A
Book: On the Anatomization of an Unknown Man (1637) by Frans Mier by John Connolly
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Authors: John Connolly
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although not so firmly as the anatomistâs victim. Yes, perhaps âvictimâ is the word, for the only conclusion to be drawn is that the man on the table has suffered under the knife. This is no corpse from the gallows, and this is not a dissection.
This is something much worse.
II
The question of attribution is always difficult in such circumstances. It resembles, one supposes, the investigation into the commission of a crime. There are clues left behind by the murderer, and it is the work of an astute and careful observer to connect such evidence to the man responsible. The use of a single source of light, shining from right to left, is typical of Mier. So, too, is the elongation of the faces, so that they resemble wraiths more than people, as though their journey into the next life has already begun. The hands, by contrast, are clumsily rendered, those of the anatomist excepted. It may be that they are the efforts of others, for Mier would not be alone among artists in allowing his students to complete his paintings. But then it could also be that it is Mierâs intention to draw our gaze to the anatomistâs hands. There is a grace, a subtlety to the scientistâs calling, and Mier is perhaps suggesting that these are skilled fingers holding the blade.
To Mier, this is an artist at work.
III
I admit that I have never seen the painting in question. I have only a vision of it in my mind based upon my knowledge of such matters. But why should that concern us? Is imagining not the first step toward bringing something into being? One must envisage it, and then one can begin to make it a reality. All great art commences with a vision, and perhaps it may be that the vision is closer to God than that which is ultimately created by the artistâs brush. There will always be human flaws in the execution. Only in the mind can the artist achieve true perfection.
IV
It is possible that the painting called
The Anatomization of an Unknown Man
may not exist.
V
What is the identity of the woman? Why would someone force her to watch as a man is torn apart, compel her to listen to his screams as the blade takes him slowly, exquisitely apart? Surgeons and scientists do not torture in this way.
Thus, if we are not gazing upon a surgeon at work, then, for want of another word, we are looking at a murderer. He is older than the others in the picture, although not so old that his beard has turned gray. The woman, meanwhile, is beautiful; let there be no doubt of that. Mier was not a sentimental man and would not have portrayed her as other than she was. The victim, too, is closer in age to the woman than the man. We can see it in his face, and in the once youthful perfection of his now ruined body.
Yes, perhaps he has the look of a Spaniard about him.
VI
I admit that Frans Mier may not exist.
VII
With this knowledge, gleaned from close examination of the work in question, let us now construct a narrative. The man with the knife is not a surgeon, although he might wish to be, but he has a curiosity about the nature of the human body that has led him to observe closely the attentions of the anatomists. The woman? Let us say: his wife, lovely yet unfaithful, fickle in her affections, weary of the aging body that shares her bed and hungry for firmer flesh.
And the man on the table, then, is or was her lover. What if we were to suppose that the husband has discovered his wifeâs infidelity. Perhaps the young man is his apprentice, one whom he has trusted and loved as a substitute for the child who has never graced his marriage. Realizing the nature of his betrayal, the master lures his apprentice to the cellar, where the table is waiting. No, wait: he drugs him with tainted wine, for the apprentice is younger and stronger than he is, and the master is unsure of his ability to overpower him. When the apprentice regains consciousness, woken by the screams of the woman trapped with him, he is powerless to move.
This is something much worse.
II
The question of attribution is always difficult in such circumstances. It resembles, one supposes, the investigation into the commission of a crime. There are clues left behind by the murderer, and it is the work of an astute and careful observer to connect such evidence to the man responsible. The use of a single source of light, shining from right to left, is typical of Mier. So, too, is the elongation of the faces, so that they resemble wraiths more than people, as though their journey into the next life has already begun. The hands, by contrast, are clumsily rendered, those of the anatomist excepted. It may be that they are the efforts of others, for Mier would not be alone among artists in allowing his students to complete his paintings. But then it could also be that it is Mierâs intention to draw our gaze to the anatomistâs hands. There is a grace, a subtlety to the scientistâs calling, and Mier is perhaps suggesting that these are skilled fingers holding the blade.
To Mier, this is an artist at work.
III
I admit that I have never seen the painting in question. I have only a vision of it in my mind based upon my knowledge of such matters. But why should that concern us? Is imagining not the first step toward bringing something into being? One must envisage it, and then one can begin to make it a reality. All great art commences with a vision, and perhaps it may be that the vision is closer to God than that which is ultimately created by the artistâs brush. There will always be human flaws in the execution. Only in the mind can the artist achieve true perfection.
IV
It is possible that the painting called
The Anatomization of an Unknown Man
may not exist.
V
What is the identity of the woman? Why would someone force her to watch as a man is torn apart, compel her to listen to his screams as the blade takes him slowly, exquisitely apart? Surgeons and scientists do not torture in this way.
Thus, if we are not gazing upon a surgeon at work, then, for want of another word, we are looking at a murderer. He is older than the others in the picture, although not so old that his beard has turned gray. The woman, meanwhile, is beautiful; let there be no doubt of that. Mier was not a sentimental man and would not have portrayed her as other than she was. The victim, too, is closer in age to the woman than the man. We can see it in his face, and in the once youthful perfection of his now ruined body.
Yes, perhaps he has the look of a Spaniard about him.
VI
I admit that Frans Mier may not exist.
VII
With this knowledge, gleaned from close examination of the work in question, let us now construct a narrative. The man with the knife is not a surgeon, although he might wish to be, but he has a curiosity about the nature of the human body that has led him to observe closely the attentions of the anatomists. The woman? Let us say: his wife, lovely yet unfaithful, fickle in her affections, weary of the aging body that shares her bed and hungry for firmer flesh.
And the man on the table, then, is or was her lover. What if we were to suppose that the husband has discovered his wifeâs infidelity. Perhaps the young man is his apprentice, one whom he has trusted and loved as a substitute for the child who has never graced his marriage. Realizing the nature of his betrayal, the master lures his apprentice to the cellar, where the table is waiting. No, wait: he drugs him with tainted wine, for the apprentice is younger and stronger than he is, and the master is unsure of his ability to overpower him. When the apprentice regains consciousness, woken by the screams of the woman trapped with him, he is powerless to move.
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