Portrait of Dürer's Father at 70
Portrait of Dürer's Father at 70 is a 1497 oil on lime painting attributed to the German painter and printmaker Albrecht Dürer, now in the National Gallery, London. Along with the 1490 Albrecht Dürer the Elder with a Rosary, it is the second of two portraits of the artist's Hungarian father Albrecht Dürer the Elder; the sitter's similarity to the earlier portrait, as well to a 1486 silverpoint drawing believed to be a self-portrait by his father, leave no doubt as to his identity. The London panel is thought to be one of a number of copies of a lost original, it is in poor condition and in areas of the cloak. It was cleaned in 1955, revealing especial quality in the description of the face, leading some to believe that it is a Dürer original; however this claim is not made by the National Gallery who display it as "attributed to Albrecht Dürer". Although a master goldsmith and well traveled, Albrecht the elder lived in poverty all his life. With his much younger wife Barbara Holper, he fathered 17 children, of which only two reached adulthood.
He died in 1502. He was supportive of his son's precocious talent and recognised it from an early age, sending him to apprenticeship with Michael Wolgemut, one of the highest regarded painters in Nuremberg at the time. From his travels Albrecht sr. came into contact with the second generation of northern renaissance painters, through them passed on a key influence on his son's artistic development. Dürer painted two portraits of his father, one from April 1490—the month before he left on his travels as a journeyman painter—and Portrait at 70 just after his return home to Nuremberg. Following his father's death the artist wrote an affecting eulogy in which he said that in his life the older man "underwent manifold afflictions and adversities, but he won just praise from all who knew him". Following his father's death five years after this portrait was painted, Dürer wrote that Albrecht the elder "passed his life in great toil and stern hard labour, having nothing for his support save what he earned with his hand for himself, his wife and his children, so that he had little enough.
He underwent manifold afflictions and adversities. But he won just praise from all who knew him for he lived an honourable Christian life, was a man patient of spirit and peaceable to all and thankful to God. For himself he had little need of worldly pleasures, he was born Albrecht Ajtósi in 1427 near the village of Gyula in the Kingdom of Hungary. In 1455 had moved to Nuremberg and changed his name to Dürer to adapt to the local Nuremberg dialect, he took up an apprenticeship as a goldsmith under the tutelage of Hieronymus Holfer. In 1467, the year his apprenticeship ended, he married Holfer's 15-year-old daughter; the couple had only two of whom survived into adulthood. Albrecht traveled a great deal, came into contact with the Netherlandish painters while in Flanders. While there he was exposed to the work of both Jan van Eyck and Rogier van der Weyden, developed a strong appreciation for them which he passed on to his son, whose art displays a large debt to these painters. From his father, Dürer learned to appreciate the fine forensic, attention to realistic detail favoured by the northern painters, as well as their use of brilliant colour.
These lessons were key to the young artist's development, set him apart from his fellow German artists whose work can feel crude and heavy-handed by comparison. Albrecht apprenticed his son to Michael Wolgemut, a painter aware of the northern artists, when he was 14; the young artist was showing such potential that his father believed he should be trained by the best local master available. Albrecht the elder is aged 70, in half view against a flat reddish background, he is wearing a black Hungarian hat and long brown robe with a black undergarment. He has an intelligent piercing gaze, although it may be interpreted as hostile glance towards the viewer; the toll of age wears on the old man's gaunt features. His fleshy cheeks are folded, his lips thin and his hair wispy and in disarray, his skin is wrinkled, his eyes are narrow and give a weary appearance. By comparison to the 1490 Albrecht Dürer the Elder with a Rosary, his hands, though visible, are inactive due to arthritis. Compared to his mild and pious expression in the 1490 portrait, Albrecht now seems impatient, while in the words of Marcel Brion the "stunned look in his eyes seems to foresee his own death... haggard intensity of questioning gaze directed upon those about him as if they could solve the urgent problems to which his own set lips had no answer."Albrecht retains some of the handsomeness of his youth.
He has exotic eyes, which approach his temples in an eastern way. There is strong evidence that the portrait was hung alongside Dürer's 1498 Self-portrait. Both are of the same dimensions. In 1650 the city of Nuremberg gave the pair of portraits to Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel as a present to King Charles I of England, at a time when Dürer was regarded as the city's proudest son. Both were sold by Cromwell. Albrecht the Elder's portrait was acquired by the National Gallery in 1904, where is bears the Inventory number NG1938; the self-portrait was bought by the Museo del Prado in Madrid. When the National Gallery bought the painting, they had little information about its attribution or provenance. A pie
Melencolia I is a 1514 engraving by the German Renaissance artist Albrecht Dürer. The print's central subject is an enigmatic and gloomy female figure thought to personify melancholia. Holding her head in her hand, she stares past the busy scene in front of her; the area is strewn with symbols and tools associated with craft and carpentry, including an hourglass, weighing scales, a hand plane and a saw. Other objects relate to geometry or numerology. Behind the figure is a structure with a magic square embedded in it and a ladder leading beyond the frame; the sky contains a rainbow, a comet or planet, a bat-like creature bearing the text that has become the print's title. Dürer's engraving is one of the most well-known extant old master prints, despite a vast art-historical literature, it has resisted any definitive interpretation. Dürer may have related melancholia with creative activity; as such, Dürer may have intended the print as a veiled self-portrait. Other art historians see the figure as pondering the nature of beauty or the value of artistic creativity in light of rationalism, or as a purposely obscure work that highlights the limitations of allegorical or symbolic art.
The art historian Erwin Panofsky, whose writing on the print has received the most attention, detailed its possible relation to Renassiance humanists' unique conception of melancholia. Summarizing its art-historical role and legacy, he wrote that "the influence of Dürer's Melencolia I—the first representation in which the concept of melancholy was transplanted from the plane of scientific and pseudo-scientific folklore to the level of art—extended all over the European continent and lasted for more than three centuries." Melencolia I has been the subject of more scholarship than any other print. As the art historian Campbell Dodgson wrote in 1926, "The literature on Melancholia is more extensive than that on any other engraving by Dürer: that statement would remain true if the last two words were omitted." Panofsky's studies in German and English, between 1923 and 1964 and sometimes with coauthors, have been influential. Melencolia I is one of Dürer's three Meisterstiche, along with Knight and the Devil and St. Jerome in His Study.
The three prints are considered thematically related by some art historians, depicting related labours that are intellectual, moral, or spiritual. While Dürer sometimes distributed Melencolia I together with St. Jerome in His Study, there is no evidence that he conceived of the prints as a thematic group; the print has two states. There is little documentation to provide insight into Dürer's intent, he made a few pencil studies for the engraving and some of his notes relate to it. A quoted note refers to the keys and the purse—"Schlüssel—gewalt/pewtell—reichtum beteut" —although this can be read as a simple record of their traditional symbolism. Another note reflects on the nature of beauty. In 1513 and 1514, Dürer experienced the death of a number of friends, followed by his mother, engendering a grief that may be expressed in this engraving. Dürer mentions melancholy only once in his surviving writings. In an unfinished book for young artists, he cautions that too much exertion may lead one to "fall under the hand of melancholy".
Panofsky considered but rejected the suggestion that the "I" in the title might indicate that Dürer had planned three other engravings on the four temperaments. He suggested instead that the "I" referred to the first of three types of melancholy defined by Cornelius Agrippa. Others see the "I" as a reference to the first stage of the alchemical process; the winged, androgynous main figure is thought to be a personification of melancholia or geometry. She sits on a slab with a closed book on her lap, holds a compass loosely, gazes intensely into the distance. Immobilized by gloom, she pays no attention to the many objects around her. Reflecting the traditional iconography of melancholy, she rests her head on a closed fist, her face is dark, indicating the accumulation of black bile, she wears a wreath of watery plants. A set of keys and a purse hang from the belt of her long dress. Behind her, a windowless building with no clear architectural function rises beyond the top of the frame. A ladder with seven rungs leans against the structure.
A putto sits atop a millstone with a chip in it. He scribbles on his tablet, or uses an artist's burin for engraving. Attached to the structure is a balance scale above the putto, above Melancholy is a bell and an hourglass with a sundial at the top. Numerous unused tools and mathematical instruments are scattered around, including a hammer and nails, a saw, a plane, pincers, a straightedge, a molder's form, either the nozzle of a bellows or an enema syringe. On the low wall behind the large polyhedron is a brazier with a goldsmith's crucible and a pair of tongs. To the left of the emaciated, sleeping dog is a censer, or an inkwell with a strap connecting a pen holder. A bat-like creature spreads its wings across the sky, revealing a banner printed with the words "Melencolia I", making it the only of Dürer's engravings to have a title printed within the plate, it cannot be assumed, that the text was intended as a title
Resurrection is the concept of coming back to life after death. In a number of ancient religions, a dying-and-rising god is a deity which resurrects; the resurrection of the dead is a standard eschatological belief in the Abrahamic religions. As a religious concept, it is used in two distinct respects: a belief in the resurrection of individual souls, current and ongoing, or else a belief in a singular resurrection of the dead at the end of the world; some believe. The death and resurrection of Jesus, an example of resurrection, is the central focus of Christianity. Christian theological debate ensues with regard to what kind of resurrection is factual – either a spiritual resurrection with a spirit body into Heaven, or a material resurrection with a restored human body. While most Christians believe Jesus' resurrection from the dead and ascension to Heaven was in a material body, a small minority believes it was spiritual. There are documented rare cases of the return to life of the clinically dead which are classified scientifically as examples of the Lazarus syndrome, a term originating from the biblical story of the resurrection of Lazarus.
Resurrection, from the Latin noun resurrectio -onis, from the verb rego, "to make straight, rule" + preposition sub, "under", altered to subrigo and contracted to surgo, surrectum + preposition re-, "again", thus "a straightening from under again". The concept of resurrection is found in the writings of some ancient non-Abrahamic religions in the Middle East. A few extant Egyptian and Canaanite writings allude to dying and rising gods such as Osiris and Baal. Sir James Frazer in his book The Golden Bough relates to these dying and rising gods, but many of his examples, according to various scholars, distort the sources. Taking a more positive position, Tryggve Mettinger argues in his recent book that the category of rise and return to life is significant for the following deities: Ugaritic Baal, Adonis, Eshmun and Dumuzi. In ancient Greek religion a number of men and women were made physically immortal as they were resurrected from the dead. Asclepius was killed by Zeus, only to be transformed into a major deity.
Achilles, after being killed, was snatched from his funeral pyre by his divine mother Thetis and resurrected, brought to an immortal existence in either Leuce, Elysian plains or the Islands of the Blessed. Memnon, killed by Achilles, seems to have received a similar fate. Alcmene, Castor and Melicertes, were among the figures sometimes considered to have been resurrected to physical immortality. According to Herodotus's Histories, the seventh century BC sage Aristeas of Proconnesus was first found dead, after which his body disappeared from a locked room, he found not only to have been resurrected but to have gained immortality. Many other figures, like a great part of those who fought in the Trojan and Theban wars and the historical pugilist Cleomedes of Astupalaea, were believed to have been made physically immortal, but without having died in the first place. Indeed, in Greek religion, immortality always included an eternal union of body and soul; the philosophical idea of an immortal soul was a invention, although influential, never had a breakthrough in the Greek world.
As may be witnessed into the Christian era, not least by the complaints of various philosophers over popular beliefs, traditional Greek believers maintained the conviction that certain individuals were resurrected from the dead and made physically immortal and that for the rest of us, we could only look forward to an existence as disembodied and dead souls. This traditional religious belief in physical immortality was denied by the Greek philosophers. Writing his Lives of Illustrious Men in the first century, the Middle Platonic philosopher Plutarch's chapter on Romulus gave an account of the mysterious disappearance and subsequent deification of this first king of Rome, comparing it to traditional Greek beliefs such as the resurrection and physical immortalization of Alcmene and Aristeas the Proconnesian, "for they say Aristeas died in a fuller's work-shop, his friends coming to look for him, found his body vanished. Plutarch scorned such beliefs held in traditional ancient Greek religion, writing, "many such improbabilities do your fabulous writers relate, deifying creatures mortal."
The parallel between these traditional beliefs and the resurrection of Jesus was not lost on the early Christians, as Justin Martyr argued: "when we say... Jesus Christ, our teacher, was crucified and died, rose again, ascended into heaven, we propose nothing different from what you believe regarding those whom you consider sons of Zeus.". There is, however, no belief in a general resurrection in ancient Greek religion, as the Greeks held that not the gods were able to recreate flesh, lost to decay, fire or consumption; the notion of a general resurrection of the dead was therefore quite preposterous to the Greeks. This is made clear in Paul's Areopagus discourse. After having first told about the resurrection of Jesus, which makes the Athenians interested to hear more, Paul goes on, relating how this event relates to a general resurrection of the dead: "Therefore having overlooked the times of ignorance, God is now declaring to men that all everywhere should repent, because He has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all
Seven Sorrows Polyptych
The Seven Sorrows Polyptych is an oil on panel painting by Albrecht Dürer. The painting includes a central picture at the Alte Pinakothek in Munich, seven surrounding panels which are exhibited at the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister of Dresden; the work was commissioned by Frederick III, Elector of Saxony, not a long time after his meeting with Dürer at Nuremberg in April 1496. Stylistic considerations suggest that the artist started to work on the painting only from around 1500. Modern scholars tend to attribute to Dürer only the central panel, the others having been executed by his pupils based on his drawings; the central panel, portraying the Sorrowing Mother, arrived in the Bavarian museum from the Benediktbeuren convent of Munich in the early 19th century. It was restored in the 1930s: once the overpaintings and additions were removed, the shell-shaped niche, the halo and the sword on the right were rediscovered, clarifying the subject of the work; the other panels were at seat of Frederick's castle.
In 1640 they were moved to the Kunstkammer of the Prince of Saxony. In the mid-20th century they were restored: their conditions improved, but the attribution was not cleared. Costantino Porcu, ed.. Dürer. Milan: Rizzoli. K. Niehr, ‘Dürer’s Bild der Sieben Schmerzen Mariens und die Bedeutung der retrospektiven Form‘, in: Marburger Jahrbuch für Kunstwissenschaft, vol. 36, pp. 117 – 143
Knight, Death and the Devil
Knight and the Devil is a large 1513 engraving by the German artist Albrecht Dürer, one of the three Meisterstiche completed during a period when he ceased to work in paint or woodcuts to focus on engravings. The image is infused with complex iconography and symbolism, the precise meaning of, argued over for centuries. An armoured knight, accompanied by his dog, rides through a narrow gorge flanked by a goat-headed devil and the figure of death riding a pale horse. Death's rotting corpse holds a reminder of the shortness of life; the rider moves through the scene looking away from the creatures lurking around him, appears contemptuous of the threats, is thus seen as symbol of courage. The work was mentioned by Giorgio Vasari as one of "several sheets of such excellence that nothing finer can be achieved", it was copied and had a large influence on German writers. Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche referenced the work in his work on dramatic theory The Birth of Tragedy to exemplify pessimism, while it was idealised in the 20th century by the Nazis as representing the racially pure Aryan, was sometimes used in their propaganda imagery.
As with the two other of his Meisterstiche, it contains a skull and hourglass, while all three are identical in size. The engraving is indebted to the Gothic style. Many of the forms blend into each other; the outline of the horse is built from a series of interlocking curves, while the knight's chin is woven into the line of his helmet. These two central figures are surrounded by a tangled mass of branches and hair, which according to art historian Raymond Stites contrast with the solid figure of the knight and his horse to set them as a "tangible idea in a world of changing forms"; the man is shown looking doggedly straight ahead, he does not allow his line of vision be interrupted or distracted by the demons beside him. According to Elizabeth Lunday the "skeletal figure of death stands ghostly pale against the darkness of a shadowy crag, while the devil, a multihorned goatlike creature, skulks amongst straggly tree roots." Death is shown with his horse in the left background and rendered without nose or lips in lighter shades than the other figures.
A skull is seen in the lower foreground, directly in the Knight's path, whilst a dog is running between the two horses. Death, the Devil, the landscape are all rendered in a bleakly northern manner; the surrounding characters are threatening to the knight, protected by the literal and figurative armor of his faith. It is believed by some art historians to be linked with publications of the Dutch humanist and theologian Erasmus's Enchiridion militis Christiani; the engraving draws from Psalm 23. Knight and the Devil is dated and signed by the artist; the work was created while Dürer was in the service of the Emperor Maximilian but was not a commission and does not contain an overtly political message. Instead it reaches back to a medieval sense of morality, is replete with Gothic imagery; the engraving bears similarities in mood and tone to one of Dürer's other great prints Melencolia I. The knight seems resigned, his facial features are downcast, his gloomy posture is in contrast to the sturdy look of his horse.
While his armor may protect him against the surrounding demons, the skull on a stump is held in front of the horse and the fall of the sand held by death in the face of the knight. According to writer Dorothy Getlein, "there is a sense of obsolescence about the knight accompanied by Death and the Devil." The New York Times art critic Holland Cotter noted that the composition followed soon after Dürer's beloved mother died a painful death. Austrian 19th-century art historian Moritz Thausing suggested that Dürer had created Knight and the Devil as part of a four-work cycle, each designed to illustrate one of the four temperaments. According to Thausing, the work was intended to represent sanguinity, hence the "S" engraved in the work, it is believed that the portrayal is a literal, though pointed, celebration of the knight's Christian faith, of the ideals of humanism. An alternative interpretation was presented in 1970 by writer Sten Karling, by Ursula Meyer, who suggested that the work did not seek to glorify the knight, but instead depicts a "robber knight".
They point to the lack of Christian or religious symbolism in the work and to the fox's tail wrapped on top the knight's lance – in Greek legend the fox's tail was a symbol of greed and treachery, as well as lust and whoring. However, knights were depicted in contemporary art with a fox tail tied to the tip of their lance. Moreover, the fox tail was a common form of protective amulet. in this interpretation Death and the Devil are the knight's companions on his journey, not omens. The work is considered one among three of Dürer's "Meisterstiche". In particular, the horse is skillfully rendered in geometric shapes that call to mind Leonardo da Vinci and reflect the Renaissance interest in natural sciences and anatomy. Most print rooms with a significant collection will have a copy, there are many late and worn, impressions in private
The Gourd and the Palm-tree
The Gourd and the Palm-tree is a rare fable of West Asian origin, first recorded in Europe in the Middle Ages. In the Renaissance a variant appeared in which a pine took the palm-tree's place and the story was counted as one of Aesop's Fables.. The fable first appeared in the west in the Latin prose work Speculum Sapientiae, which groups its accounts into four themed sections. At one time attributed to the 4th century Cyril of Jerusalem, the work is now thought to be by the 13th century Boniohannes de Messana; the story is told of a gourd that roots itself next to a palm tree and equals her in height. The gourd asks its sister her age and on learning that she is a hundred years old thinks itself better because of its rapid rise; the palm explains that slow and mature growth will endure while swift advancement is followed by as swift a decay. At the time it first appeared in Europe, the account was directed against the new rich in a feudal society which had yet to find a place for them; the Speculum Sapientiae was translated into German under the title Das buch der Natürlichen weißheit by Ulrich von Pottenstein and first printed in 1490.
In 1564 a poetic version of the fable was included under its Latin title of Cucurbita et Palma in Hieronymus Osius' Fabulae Aesopi carmine elegiaco redditae and so entered the Aesopic tradition. In the 18th century it was adapted by August Gottlieb Meissner and published with the work of other German fabulists in 1783. An anonymous translation appeared in the New York Mirror in 1833 and a poetic version by Mrs Elizabeth Jessup Eames in the Southern Literary Messenger in 1841; this new version of the fable ran as follows in its American prose translation: A gourd wrapped itself round a lofty palm and in a few weeks climbed to its top. ‘And how old mayest thou be?’ asked the newcomer. ‘A hundred years and no taller? Only look, I have grown as tall as you in fewer days than you can count years.’ ‘I know that well,’ replied the palm. Its first appearance was in the Latin poem by Andrea Alciato that accompanied what was to become Emblem 125 in his Emblemata. A translation of this runs:'A gourd is said to have sprung up close to an airy pine tree, to have grown apace with thick foliage: when it had embraced the pine's branches and outstripped the top, it thought it was better than other trees.
To it spoke the pine: Too brief this glory, for soon to come is that which will destroy you - winter!' One of the first of the English emblem writers, Geoffrey Whitney, borrowed Alciato's device for his own treatment of the theme of'happiness that endures only for a moment' in his Choice of Emblemes, published in Leiden by Christopher Plantin in 1586. It was accompanied by a 24-line poem, reflecting upon it. Two of its four stanzas are given to the pine's reply when the gourd presumes to deride his host: To whome the Pine, with longe Experience wise, And ofte had seene suche peacockes loose theire plumes, Thus aunswere made, thow owght'st not to despise, My stocke at all, oh foole, thow much presumes. In coulde and heate, here longe hath bene my happe, Yet am I sounde and full of livelie sappe. But, when the froste and coulde shall thee assaie, Thowghe nowe alofte, thow bragge, freshlie bloome, Yet thie roote shall rotte and fade awaie, And shortlie, none shall knowe where was thy roome: Thy fruicte and leaves, that nowe so highe aspire, The passers by shall treade within the mire.
At the end of the following century this version of the fable reappeared in the section of fables by others in Roger L'Estrange's Fables of Aesop and Other Eminent Mythologists. A different device accompanied Johann Ebermeier's treatment of the fable in his Neu poetisch Hoffnungs-Gärtlein, it stands at the head of a short Latin poem with a longer German translation titled "Like a shadow and a gourd’s leaf is happiness". There was a Latin prose version of the fable included in the Mithologica sacro-profana, seu florilegium fabularum by the Carmelite monk Father Irenaeus. There it illustrates the moral that prosperity is short and the story is told of either a pine or an olive tree next to which a gourd grows, only to die lamenting in winter; that the story was still known in England is suggested by Robert Dodsley's chance reference, that'the gourd may reproach the pine', in his essay on the fable genre, although he did not choose to include this one in his Select Fables of Esop and other fabulists.
Instead he used an adaptation of The Elm and the Vine in the book's third section of'original fables'. There a pert vine refuses an elm's proposal of marriage and boasts of being able to rely on its own resources; the elm replies to the'poor infatuated shrub' that misapplication of its resources will soon bring about its downfall. In the rewriting, the original moral of the Elm and the Vine, that weakness needs support, is made to revert to the economics of the Speculum Sapientiae. Much the same moral is drawn from "The Oak and the Sycamore" in the same section of Dodsley's book:'A Sycamore grew beside an Oak, being not a little elevated by the first warm days of spring, began to shoot forth and to despise the naked Oak for insensibility and want of spirit; the Oak, conscious of his superior nature, made this philosophical reply
Avarice (Dürer, Vienna)
Avarice is a small oil-on-limewood painting of 1507 by Albrecht Dürer. It shows a grotesque and wrinkled old woman with one sagging breast hanging out of her crimson robe holding a bag of gold coins with both hands; the work is found on the reverse of his Portrait of Young Man. Avarice is allegorical and serves as a warning at both the transience of life and the ultimate worthlessness of earthly fortune, it is grouped, along with Melencolia I, as one of Dürer's vanitas images. Intended to represent both avarice and the passing nature of youthful beauty, the woman is shown in half-length, painted in thick impasto, she has long straight blond hair, glazed eyes, a long nose, a pinched jaw and a mouth with only two remaining teeth, twisted in a scornful laugh. Her visible right arm is muscular and out of proportion to the rest of her body, while a dark tuft of hair sprouts from her underarm. Only her hair and the regular and noble outlines of her face hint at former beauty; the intense focus of the image is achieved by tight cropping and the contrasting of the lush colouring of the woman's gown and hair against a flat black background.
Art historians have compared the work to a Giorgionesque canvas Col tempo, with which it shares obvious thematic similarities, while Dürer's use of impasto and the rich colouring in the foreground display a debt to the Venetian school. The art historian T. Sturge Moore suggests that Dürer may have wanted to show that he could paint like Giorgione. Others believe that the work is a satire on a sitter who had not paid him as much as he might have wished for an earlier portrait. However, given the artist's financial situation at this time, it seems unlikely that he would have deliberately offended potential patrons or customers. Writer Jessie Allen discounts this theory and believes that the work was unable to attract a buyer and so, to save money, Dürer used the other side of the canvas to create a commercially viable image; the work is seen as unfinished, is sometimes referred to as a sketch. Avarice is held in the Kunsthistorisches Vienna, it is in good condition, the colours retain their vibrancy.
In the Kunsthistoriches it is labeled "Allegorische Frauenfigur/Allegorical Female Figure" Allen, Jessie. Albert Dürer. Kessinger, 2005. ISBN 0-7661-9475-2 Bailey, Martin. Dürer. London: Phidon Press, 1995. ISBN 0-7148-3334-7 Silver, Larry & Smith, Jeffrey Chipps; the Essential Dürer. University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010. ISBN 0-8122-4187-8 Sturge Moore, T. Albert Dürer. Bastian Books, 2008. ISBN 0-554-23107-7 Thausing, Moriz. Albert Dürer: His Life and Work, Part 1. Kessinger Publishing, 2003. ISBN 0-7661-5416-5