The imposing figure — wide-framed, feet spread, powerful authority beaming from the eyes — of Henry VIII that many of us conjure up when we think of the Tudor monarch is owed in great part to Hans Holbein (1497 – 1543). It thanks also to Holbein that we have such vivid portraiture of the likes of Thomas Cromwell and Thomas More. Holbein was part and parcel to the creation of the image of Tudor England — though whether this was commensurate with his full talents is far less clear. As the documentary hints, the supreme and versatile gifts of Holbein were underutilized. But, for all that, Holbein gave to posterity an incredible realness and vividness of his time; we think about this period through the many artistic creations and portraits that come from Holbein’s hands.
Holbein: Eye of the Tudors, presented by Waldemar Januszczak, explores this idea, and takes a quick but informative stroll through the life of this gifted artist. Born in southern Germany, Holbein was the son of Holbein the Elder, who was a talented artist in his own right. The younger Holbein was mentored by his father, and took in the religious imagery that was a mainstay in his father’s artistic life. The relationship, then, did more than help foster artistic skills: it instilled in the developing Hans’ mind “profound Catholic moods.”
It also directed Holbein on a course of life that would, eventually, put him square in the court of Henry VIII. But long before that, Holbein started out in Basel, “the European capital of books.” At his father’s directive, Holbein went to Basel in an effort to earn money and begin his career in some capacity. The city was bursting with the printing press at this time, and the young Holbein could potentially find work as a book illustrator. Holbein would in fact do this, but his time in Basel would encompass so much more.
Along with joining an artists’ guild in 1519, Holbein found himself in close acquaintance with influential figures of his time, Desiderius Erasmus among them. In watching this documentary, one of the things that stands out is Holbein’s good luck to be associated with such immense figures. Though the documentary doesn’t elaborate on this, what a great shock and surprise it must have been for Holbein suddenly to be around one of the great humanists of the time. The author of The Praise of Folly would end up writing a recommendation letter for Holbein that he could present to Thomas More, who was living in England.
This was a critical, for although Holbein found success in Basel — he was productive, practiced different forms of art, and was commissioned — times would change quickly and in a radical way. The spreading influence of Martin Luther reached Basel in a flurry, and things were thrown into a flux. Demand for religious painting, formerly something that Holbein could count on, decreased significantly; and consequently Holbein found himself needing to go elsewhere. So it was off to England, More’s letter in hand.
Holbein would spend two chunks of time in England, the first from 1526 to 1528, and then a longer stay from 1532 to 1543. It was here in England that Holbein’s career would undergo major transformations and put him on the path to painting the Tudor court. As the documentary points out, England provided the milieu for Holbein to develop his skills as a portraitist. “In England, the art form that was most esteemed, and which seemed most in tune with the national psyche, was portraiture.” Holbein had painted portraits prior to this, like the magnificent one of Erasmus that now sits in the National Gallery in London. But in England he would have the chance to practice portraiture in a way he never had before. However, it’s also during this time that Holbein’s use of talent is somewhat difficult to stomach.
After all, this man of exceptional skills would end up, as Januszczak humorously but aptly puts it, becoming something like “Holbein’s dating service”: painting portraits of princesses who were candidates to become the wife of Henry VIII. Though these are remarkable portraits, there’s still something rather off-putting — maybe even depressing — about an artist of this caliber performing such a service to a tyrannical monarch. Be that as it may, this was the route Holbein took, and the results of it do have their benefits.
For not only did Holbein paint portraits of Henry VIII’s prospective wives-to-be, he of course painted the king himself, which are some of the most famous pieces in Holbein’s oeuvre. These were not just any ordinary portraits, but designed and crafted in very specific ways. Holbein had a tremendous talent for creating a sense of “actuality” to a degree that had not been seen before. But Holbein also approached these portraits with an explicit aim of creating a brand — “a look” — for Henry VIII. As Januszczak puts it, “[Holbein’s] chief duty, the one we all know him for today, was to invent a look for Henry VIII that was instantly recognizable.” Suffice it to say, he succeeded in this.
Indeed, I think Januszczak is essentially right to claim that Holbein made “Tudor England immortal” because of the “extraordinarily active presence” he could bring to it. It’s because of the work of Holbein that most people — even those not particularly inclined to study history — have certain images in mind of Tudor England, particularly of the court of Henry VIII.
But speaking of Henry VIII, the man who would famously have six wives (and have two of them beheaded), what are we to make of Holbein working in this milieu? Specifically, how did he feel about it? This is something I wondered while watching the documentary, but unfortunately the motivational and personal side of Holbein is not explored in much detail. From what I gather this is because we have little information regarding these aspects, including even of Holbein’s religious views, which is somewhat surprising given the religious ferment of this time. One would think something would have been recorded, but the hard evidence is apparently just not there. As Januszczak tells us, “There’s no official record of Holbein’s own religious views.”
We can, however, still learn much about Holbein through his works, even if some of them require deciphering. The documentary closes on one of his masterpieces, a painting known as The Ambassadors. This intriguing, mysterious piece full of all sorts of conundrums — including the distorted skull at the bottom, which one can only really see by looking at it from the right perspective — displays the ephemeralness of life. The two wealthy and cultured gentleman who stand in the picture, surrounded by globes and books and instruments, will succumb to death as everyone else will. I like an artist who confronts this indisputable fact of life. And a painting that contains so much depth and complexity — Januszczak says that scholars have always been putting forward theories about this piece — shows a man who, though perhaps not always working in ideal environments, strove to create art that had real meaning.
Holbein: Eye of the Tudors is a relatively short and breezy documentary, touching on the main points of Holbein’s life. While it inevitably leaves much out, it does its job in introducing us to the life and works of this premier 16th-century artist.
Spectatio 