Although not as famous as Warner Sallman's 1941 Head of Christ, which sold more than 500 million copies, Rembrandt van Rijn's characterization of Jesus in prints and paintings is instantly recognizable. From Jesus' somber, soft gaze to his coarse, homely garments to the warm, earthy palette and atmospheric "tobacco juice" shadows, these images comprise an enduring cliché in Christian religious art. But it's certainly not the first.
To create the Jesus that is now so familiar, Rembrandt (1606-1669) rewrote rigid conventions. Early in his career, the artist had adhered to the Christian tradition reflecting an allegedly contemporaneous written description (Jesus had hair the color of a "ripe hazelnut") and a couple of miraculous imprints of Jesus' face on pieces of cloth. (The Shroud of Turin, though, was not well-documented in Rembrandt's day.) For Christians familiar with the Old Testament, there has always been something problematic about "graven images" of God, but when the image was not created by the human hand, it seemed "true" and authoritative. In canonical 17th-century imagery, Jesus was a handsome blond fellow, a bit like the classical god Apollo (a link that goes back to the Catacombs, by the way).
In his 30s and 40s, Rembrandt lived in a Jewish neighborhood in Amsterdam. A series of oil studies of a young man, perhaps a neighbor, is the basis of the face of Jesus that would remain fairly consistent for the rest of the artist's life. The studies represent a specific individual glancing to one side in a thoughtful attitude, as if he were listening intently. He is younger and less commanding than the traditional Christ. This version, probably the first based on a Jewish person, appears in two of Rembrandt's best known religious works, Supper at Emmaus and The Hundred Guilder Print, both of which are featured in this show.
Swathes of gold, gemstones, rich brocaded fabrics, crowns and choirs of angels — in pictures or as realities — have no place in the art and churches of Protestant Amsterdam. Individuals might purchase paintings or prints like Rembrandt's, but even in a private home, elaborate or showy religious paraphernalia was considered unacceptable.
This emphatic simplicity seems to suit Rembrandt. It enhances the directness and accessibility of his work. The artist gives no occasion for the viewer to be more engaged by his subject's clothing than by his being. His strength is to show people at their most psychologically naked moments. As time passed, Rembrandt infused his storytelling with an understated characterization of Jesus as a presence, a stillness. In contrast to the more dramatic earlier 1634 version of Supper at Emmaus, in the second, better-known version (1648), Jesus is the calm center of the drama.
Printmaking was an ideal medium for Rembrandt. His structuring of compositions in terms of light and dark is always satisfying. The dramatic contrast between highlight and shadow in images of Christ becomes a metaphor for Christ as the light of the world. All is in darkness without the illumination he brings. A little film in the exhibition demonstrates some techniques of etching and shows how Rembrandt's selective wiping of a plate resulted in unique variations in the finished prints.
It's intriguing to notice how the sketchy early states of prints — made when the artist was still working on them — are sometimes more vigorous and pleasing to the contemporary eye than the finished ones. A particular highlight of the show is Rembrandt's 1634-35 chalk sketch of Leonardo's Last Supper (1495-98), made from an engraving of the mural. Here is the consummate artist at work: analyzing light and composition and narrative with powerful economy.
Rembrandt and the Face of Jesus | Through Oct. 30, $25, Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2600 Ben Franklin Parkway, 215-763-8100, philamuseum.org.
