Esther vor Ahasver

Obwohl sich ein veritables OEuvre rekonstruieren lässt, bleibt die Identität dieses Künstlers bis heute ungeklärt. Der Meister des Liechtensteinschen Kabinetts erhielt seinen Notnamen von Friedrich Winkler, weil ein großer Teil seiner Zeichnungen aus der Sammlung des Fürsten von Liechtenstein stammte. Auch eine Radierung mit den Initialen »S. F.« wurde ihm zugeschrieben (nicht bei Hollstein), doch konnte dieses Monogramm bislang nicht aufgelöst werden. Die Zeichnungen des Künstlers besitzen klare Erkennungsmerkmale: Ihre farbige Grundierung ergibt im Zusammenspiel mit grauer Tusche und weißer Deckfarbe einen raffinierten, an Clairobscur- Holzschnitte erinnernden Farbklang. Diesem Effekt begegnet man ähnlich im zeichnerischen Frühwerk des Pieter Coecke van Aelst (1502 – 1550, Allegorische Genreszene, Rotterdam, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Inv. P. Coecke 2), und es ist gut möglich, dass unser Meister in Coeckes Umkreis anzusiedeln ist. Coeckes klassischer Stil wird hier allerdings manieristisch verfremdet: durch bizarre Architektur in gewagter perspektivischer Verkürzung oder durch fantastische, an Werke der Donauschule erinnernde Naturformen.

Wie die beiden Zeichnungen (Inv. 32800, Inv. 32801) zeigen, war der Liechtenstein-Meister ein begabter Erzähler, der den Höhepunkt des Geschehens kunstvoll in die Rahmenhandlung einbettete. Aus Jesu Gleichnis vom barmherzigen Samariter (Lk 10, 25 – 37) sehen wir den dramatischen Moment des Raubüberfalls. Ein Reisender wird von zwei Räubern mit Lanze und Schwert bedroht. Seine verdrehten Gliedmaßen sind keine manieristische Spielerei, sondern beredter Ausdruck seiner Agonie. Ohne von dem Verletzen Notiz zu nehmen, gehen ein Priester und ein Levit einfach vorbei. Erst der Mann aus Samarien – ein Ketzer in den Augen der Juden – wäscht ihm die Wunden und bringt ihn in ein Wirtshaus zur weiteren Behandlung.

Bosch, Bruegel, Rubens, Rembrandt. Meisterwerke der Albertina, hg. von K. A. Schröder und C. Metzger, Albertina, Wien, Ostfildern 2013, Abb. 28, S. 62.

This drawing by an artist still known only by his

provisional name1 acts like a visual account of the

Old Testament story of Esther: a story of threat,

salvation, and a courageous queen, its happy ending

celebrated annually in the Jewish feast of Purim.

Following an approach established in the fifteenth

century, the events are told simultaneously,2

orchestrating the primary theme and its many

subplots while turning the city into “a devotional

doll’s house.”3

Mordecai, an exiled Jew at the court of the Persian

king Ahasuerus, refuses to bow to the king’s vizier,

Haman4: we see the latter passing haughtily through

the king’s gate in the left background. As revenge,

Haman convinces the king to lead a campaign

to kill all Jews5: at right on a balcony, the king is

offering Haman his seal as a sign of authority (fig. 1).

Mordecai persuades his former charge, Queen

Esther, to plead for mercy by praying, fasting,

and asking her royal husband a favor—although

appearing unbidden before the king was punishable

by death.6 Picturing Ahasuerus mercifully

receiving his wife, this moment, set on the stage

in the foreground, is the climax. Esther invites the

king and Haman to a banquet (far left); the king

listens to the chronicles read by a servant, learning

of Mordecai’s good works7 (far right); and the king

rewards Mordecai with a parade8 (left of center).

Haman is forced to lead Mordecai’s horse. He who

envisioned the extinction of Israel ends up at the

very same gallows destined for his antagonist,9 as

depicted in the rear of the drawing. Such motifs

may have reminded the contemporary viewer of

the theatrical qualities of urban life, with its public

executions and triumphal entries.10

Judging from dated drawings ascribed to the

Master of the Liechtenstein Cabinet, we may assume

that he was active in the 1550s.11 He may have known

Pieter Coecke van Aelst the Elder’s (1502–1550)

Customs and Fashions of the Turks (fig. 2).12 If so,

Coecke’s woodcuts could have served as models

for the turbans and cloaks and may have inspired

some of the minaret-like forms in the background.

Above all, the stage props chosen to evoke the feel

of ancient Shushan are an eclectic, fanciful mix,

including a triumphal arch as well as bizarre forms

such as the square building in the center with its

triangular inverted roofs, as if a walk-in sculpture

from a Mannerist pattern book.13

Architecture is also used to echo and highlight

the principal scene. Throne and canopy, dramatically

positioned against the light, act as a powerful

framework for Queen Esther and her king, the

curved column emulating the overall sense of

disquiet. Such a dramaturgical device was needed,

as the artist abandoned the more legible tradition of

arranging the figures in a friezelike manner (fig. 3)

in favor of inviting the viewer into the scene by

means of daring foreshortening. Apparently successful,

14 the artist varied this effect in other sheets

(fig. 4).15 Works like these show that unknown

masters can still stand out with excellence and

innovation.16

 

1. The artist is named after the collection of the Prince of

Liechtenstein, where many of his highly distinctive drawings

were once housed. An attempt to associate him with the initials

S. F., found on a stylistically related engraving (Wegner 1970, 265,

fig. 184; not listed in Hollstein [HD] 1952) was refuted by Geissler,

who proposed instead that they were those of the reproductive

engraver (Geissler 1979, 2:171).

2. On this tradition, see De Rock 2019, 58–85.

3. De Rock 2019, 58.

4. Esther 3:2–3.

5. Esther 3:12–15.

6. Esther 5:2.

7. Esther 6:1–3.

8. Esther 6:11.

9. Esther 7:10.

10. See De Rock 2019, 148; see also Peters’s essay in this volume.

11. Master of the Liechtenstein Cabinet, Christ among the Doctors,

1549, pen and black ink, gray wash, white heightening, on

dark-rose prepared paper, 13.9 x 20.4 cm, Fondation Custodia,

Paris, Frits Lugt Collection, T 6008 (Winkler 1963, 37n4a); Master

of the Liechtenstein Cabinet, Judith and Holofernes, c. 1550s,

private collection, Munich (Wegner 1970, fig. 182); Master of the

Liechtenstein Cabinet, David Brings the Ark to Jerusalem, 1553,

pen and black ink, gray and brown washes, white heightening,

on paper, 39.3 x 30.8 cm, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen,

Rotterdam, MB 1732 (Bleyerveld et al. 2014, no. 36).

12. Wegner 1970, 264.

13. With its geometric shape, the structure calls to mind Wenzel

Jamnitzer’s Perspectiva Corporum Regularium (1563) or the

perspectival fantasies of Lorenz Stor (1567, Simon Turner, ed.,

Hollstein’s German Engravings, Etchings and Woodcuts, 1400–1700

[Ouderkerk aan den IJssel: Sound & Vision, 2016]: 83:13–14,

nos. 7–18), britishmuseum.org/collection/object/P_1873-0809-477.

14. There is a mirror-inverted copy, present whereabouts

unknown; see Wegner 1970, fig. 183.

15. Hand 1987, 236–37, no. 86.

16. Winkler 1963, 34.

 

Emily J. Peters, Laura M. Ritter (Hg.), AK Tales of the City. Drawing in the Netherlands from Bosch to Bruegel, Cleveland Museum of Art 9.10.2022 - 8.1.2023, New Haven 2022, Kat. Nr. 22