Monday, January 21, 2013
THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF THE PRAYING HANDS
THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF THE PRAYING HANDS
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a
family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the
table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by
profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other
paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly
hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream.
They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well
that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to
Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys
finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down
into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he
attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed
his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the
academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring
in the mines. They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht
Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years,
financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate
sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better
than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was
beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a
festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming.
After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter,
Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a
toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled
Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert,
blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to
pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." All heads turned in eager
expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming
down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he
sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down
the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to
his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It
is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to
my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and
lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I
cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines
on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is
too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of
masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals,
woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but
the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of
Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very
well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht
Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and
thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply
"Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his
great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look.
Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - ever
makes it alone!
-- Author Unknown --
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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believed to be free for circulation or public domain. All messages come
in either by email in original form or copied from the internet sites.
The work was submitted to us as an item for distribution, and it was
posted solely on the basis of its quality.
© 2013 FoodForThought
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a
family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the
table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by
profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other
paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly
hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream.
They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well
that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to
Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys
finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down
into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he
attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed
his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the
academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring
in the mines. They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht
Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years,
financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate
sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better
than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was
beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a
festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming.
After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter,
Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a
toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled
Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert,
blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to
pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." All heads turned in eager
expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming
down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he
sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down
the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to
his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It
is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to
my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and
lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I
cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines
on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is
too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of
masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals,
woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but
the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of
Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very
well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht
Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and
thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply
"Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his
great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look.
Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - ever
makes it alone!
-- Author Unknown --
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Join our group on Facebook and post your comments on the reflection: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=142903436398
Group Address: http://groups.google.com/group/dailyfoodforthought
GROUP CONTACT:
To subscribe from this group, share a reflection or feedback
on the reflection of the day, send email to: foodforthought2@earthlink.net
To unsubscribe : dailyfoodforthought-unsubscribe@googlegroups.com
DISCLAIMER: FoodForThought shared this message as submitted and do not
claim to own any copyright privileges on it. All the messages are
believed to be free for circulation or public domain. All messages come
in either by email in original form or copied from the internet sites.
The work was submitted to us as an item for distribution, and it was
posted solely on the basis of its quality.
© 2013 FoodForThought
