Another of my favourite paintings is 'The Vendramin Family venerating a Relic of the True Cross' by Titian in the National Gallery. It took me many years to see this painting for the great work it really is. I must've walked past it without a second glance many times over the years but it was only when it was included in an exhibition of paintings owned by painters in 2016 that I finally looked at it properly. The painting was once owned by Van Dyck and that is why it was included in the exhibition.
The work was painted between 1540-45 and the old man in the centre is Andrea Vendramin who died in 1547 aged 66. He was a wealthy Venetian and it's thought that this family portrait was painted for his palazzo. His younger brother Gabriel is to his right in the red robe and the others are his sons. The relic they're venerating is linked to the family through an ancestor, also called Andrea, nearly 200 years earlier. Of course, I don't call him Andrea, I call him Lord Vendramin, as is proper.
This is Titian's largest family group and it's a very big painting in Room 9 in the National Gallery. It's thought that it was designed to be placed in a specific room in the Vendramin palazzo that was then changed, which would explain the odd positioning of the three boys on the left. I like the folds of the two mens' robes, the highlights, particularly on Gabriel's red robe, the fur lining and the detail of the texture of the fur. The foreshortening on Gabriel's hand stretching out to the viewer is quite incredible as he reaches out to viewers (presumably family members, friends and colleagues who might have access to the palazzo), almost inviting us to join in the veneration.
Gabriel looks up at the sacred relic but Lord Vendramin looks out at us, looking down. I can never decide what he's thinking and what his expression means. He's old and tired and those eyes have seen a lot over the years but he's still rich and powerful and has a large family to support him. A bit condescending? Probably. I imagine him getting fed up with all the tourists looking at him and his family, the tour groups chattering away loudly and the occasional screeches from young school groups. I wonder what he'd think if he knew this painting by Titian would be seen by millions of people every year, commoners from all over the world and countries that didn't exist when he was alive? Would he mind being gawped at for all these years? Or be proud that the family name still exists because of him?
I say hello to him when I pass this painting on my way from the Sainsbury Wing into the main gallery. I hope he welcomes a familiar face now and then.
The work was painted between 1540-45 and the old man in the centre is Andrea Vendramin who died in 1547 aged 66. He was a wealthy Venetian and it's thought that this family portrait was painted for his palazzo. His younger brother Gabriel is to his right in the red robe and the others are his sons. The relic they're venerating is linked to the family through an ancestor, also called Andrea, nearly 200 years earlier. Of course, I don't call him Andrea, I call him Lord Vendramin, as is proper.
This is Titian's largest family group and it's a very big painting in Room 9 in the National Gallery. It's thought that it was designed to be placed in a specific room in the Vendramin palazzo that was then changed, which would explain the odd positioning of the three boys on the left. I like the folds of the two mens' robes, the highlights, particularly on Gabriel's red robe, the fur lining and the detail of the texture of the fur. The foreshortening on Gabriel's hand stretching out to the viewer is quite incredible as he reaches out to viewers (presumably family members, friends and colleagues who might have access to the palazzo), almost inviting us to join in the veneration.
Gabriel looks up at the sacred relic but Lord Vendramin looks out at us, looking down. I can never decide what he's thinking and what his expression means. He's old and tired and those eyes have seen a lot over the years but he's still rich and powerful and has a large family to support him. A bit condescending? Probably. I imagine him getting fed up with all the tourists looking at him and his family, the tour groups chattering away loudly and the occasional screeches from young school groups. I wonder what he'd think if he knew this painting by Titian would be seen by millions of people every year, commoners from all over the world and countries that didn't exist when he was alive? Would he mind being gawped at for all these years? Or be proud that the family name still exists because of him?
I say hello to him when I pass this painting on my way from the Sainsbury Wing into the main gallery. I hope he welcomes a familiar face now and then.
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