It is hard to find reliable documentation from the exceptionally interesting late medieval era more than half a millenium ago, when book illumination reached its peak, when Jan van Eyck refined the use of oil in painting, when Johann Gutenberg invented a method to print books from movable type and when also the printing of pictures from engraved plates had its incunabula time. Only a small percentage of the art and handicraft from this epoch is still preserved, and many once existing archives have been lost. Scholars have nevertheless produced a nearly incredible amount of informative books and articles on problems not easy to solve, giving today’s art students the favour of being able to stand on the shoulders of many giants of specialized knowledge.

The literature is today so great that anything written with scientific ambitions on a central problem needs to include quite as long references to earlier texts. The base of knowledge offered in previous books and articles is, however, to some extent written by scholars from times when long experience and consensus with other interpreters often allowed them to publish well-grounded suppositions in words as suggestive as if it were the question of facts, confusing many readers and unexperienced students. The reading of some texts is in fact as adventurous as if travelling in a land where new perspectives suddenly open in directions where nothing new has been expected to be found.

During the many years when I have enjoyed myself studying medieval art as a part-time occupation, and sometimes even have been dealing in prints and illustrated books from the incunabula times, I have taken a special interest in book illumination, portraits and prints. As only a few preserved works from medieval times are signed, nor possible to date for a certainty on other grounds, I have often amused myself by trying to identify artists, who up to now have been known only by anonymous names, such as the Master of the Rohan Book of Hours, now identified by me as André Beauneveu, offering a partly new ground for the study of book illumination during the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries. The fact that Beauneveu was an artist talented enough to inspire a whole following generation, resulting in consensus on the creation of a phantom Rohan Master thought to have been working for decades after Beauneveu’s death, has inspired me to take a special interest in the distinguishing of artistic quality for a correct understanding of the so often conventional art of illumination.

For the future study of Jan van Eyck’s work I present the interesting theory, that he probably is identical with the in a few documents mentioned court painter in Paris ´Haincelin de Haguenot´, who during the time when Jan’s occupation has been unknown may have painted, among other things, the scenes from royal and noble festivities in the four Calendar miniatures for January, April, May and August in the “Très riches heures”, outstanding illuminations that have up to now been interpreted as painted by some Limbourg brother, although both style and artistic quality are different from works more reasonably attributed to the Limbourgs.

The arguments that I present for the identification of a nearly forgotten Hubert van Eyck with the rather well-known Robert Campin may open for a better understanding of early Netherlandish painting. In this connection I also try to put new light on some severe misunderstandings and falsifications about the Ghent altarpiece. That the famous “Mérode Triptych” in the Cloisters, New York, in fact is a disguised blasphemous painting seems to have been forgotten for more than half a millenium. The Virgin is here dressed in flamboyant red, the colour of love, passion and fire, and her hair is hanging loose as on an unmarried girl. Only at a very close look is it possible to see that she is just pretending to read in the book she is holding, that she is instead leering curiously at the beautiful young man in the shape of an angel. In this very original “Annunciation” the scene no longer takes place in a church but in a domestic interior with a dominating chimney, very blackened from smoke and with no visible fire, in this way probably reminding onlookers of an old and very well-known proverb, today merely looked upon as an astonishing piece of art from a time when the “Immaculate Conception” was still discussed with naive sincerity.

As another surprise I publish what no one thought existed, a contemporary description of an, unfortunately lost, painting of the Virgin by Jan van Eyck, written on verse by the adventurous knight Oswald von Wolkenstein, who on several occations may have sung these words on his performances at different European courts. I also present the theory, that the in Innsbruck preserved strikingly suggestive portrait of Wolkenstein would not have been possible if not based on a now lost small identification portrait of the type that Jan van Eyck may have invented in the service of Philip the Good, and of which one of the first may be the well-known portrait of an ecclesiastic in Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, which is thought to show Cardinal Albergati.

In connection with reinterpretings of early Netherlandish portraits I try to present arguments that maybe will be convincing enough for a definite refusal of the often repeted theory that Jan van Eyck’s somewhat ironic portrait of “A Man with a Turban” in National Gallery, London, should be this outstandings artist’s self-portrait. For the also old suggestion that the man’s obvious likeness to the artist’s portrait in 1439 of his wife Margaret should point at the possibility that it should be the question of the artist’s father-in-law, I am, however, in the position to present several supporting facts, including a suggested identification of him with the shipmaster and businessman Johann Krebs (Cryfftz) in Kues. The most enigmatic of all Jan van Eyck’s portraits has been that of a rather young man that is dated 10 October 1432 and has the text LEAL SOVVENIR, together with a half Latin, half Greek text, far-fetched interpreted as ´Tymotheos´. When trying to find reasonable arguments for an identifying of this man with the learned Cologne cleric Gerhard von Manderscheid, I put forward the idea that Jan van Eyck may have had close connections not only to Johann Krebs but also to this man’s famous son, the later Cardinal Nicolaus Cusanus, one of the most gifted intellectuals of his time, who is thought to have received his first education together with children of the Manderscheid family.

Scholars have since long stubbornly pursued the rather short-sighted idea that the words ´Hernoul le fin´ and ´Arnould fin´ in the inventories in the years 1516 and 1523/24 of Margaret of Austria’s collections should identify the man on Jan van Eyck’s famous double portrait in the National Gallery in London as one of the Italian brothers Giovanni or Michele Arnolfini, although it was at this time nearly impossible to refer to a person without mentioning his Christian name. I try to make it understandable that the man on this painting in fact must be Duke Arnold of Guelders, probably remembered as Arnould ´le fin´ because he was the last independent ruler over Guelders, and that the lady beside him probably was christened Margaret and may be identified with Hubert and Jan van Eyck’s sister, rumoured to have been a qualified illuminator. Another preserved portrait of the same man (Gemäldegalerie, Berlin) shows him as middle-aged. It is therefore hardly possible to accept the conventional ascription of it to Jan van Eyck, who died in 1441. I suggest that this portrait of the worn and sunburnt Arnold may have been painted in 1451, when he was on pilgrimage to Palestine, and that the artist probably has been Rogier van der Weyden, who also visited Italy in connection with the so-called Holy Year 1450.

That it really is Arnold of Guelders that we see on both the portraits is supported by the portrayed man’s likeness to a young man holding a falcon, who is riding together with his wife, i e Duchess Catherine of Cleves, on a preserved painting showing a “Plaidoirie d’amours” (Versailles), most likely a copy after a lost painting by Jan van Eyck. This obviously much admired and more than once copied painting, earlier thought to show a “Hawking Party” or a “Jardin d’amours”, I have interpreted to be an ironic representation of the power game of marriages in ruling families. Several at this time actual marriage constellations are presented. In the main scene we may see the 57-year-old Duke Wilhelm of Bavaria-Munich grasping the arm of his future wife Margaret of Cleves, while this teenaged girl turns herself childishly away as if looking for help. By this proposal scene in 1432 it is possible to give a rather precise date for the commission of a first part of the so much discussed so-called “Hours of Catherine of Cleves”, which I show must in fact originally have been given to Margaret, the eldest of the Cleves sisters.

It has since long been considered to be of little scientific value trying to identify unnamed portraits on ground of likeness to other works or on the ground of known historic circumstances. Of essential interest for a correct understanding of early portrait painting may be, however, my reinterpretation of the “Portrait of a Man” in the National Gallery in London, that has so long been guessed to be a painting by Robert Campin and a key work for the history of early realistic portraiture in oil. The arguments I present for the identification of this portrayed man with Nicolaus Cusanus, the famous ecclesiastic, seems to show that the portrait can have been painted earliest at the end of the 1440s. And my suggestions for the identification of many portrayed nobles on e g the miniature for January in the “Très riches heures”, and on the painting “Plaidoirie d´amours” in Versailles, are surely of interest not only for the history of art. In Jan van Eyck’s very detailed January miniature we can see some up to now unidentified early portraits of important historic persons, e g the later Duke Philip of Burgundy, Duke Charles of Orléans, King Charles VI and Dauphin Louis of France.

In connection with early portrait painting I try to show that the enigmatic ´jeunesse de Fouquet´ might be explained, if the artist should really be identical with the obviously very qualified artist Jehan de Maisoncelles, who is mentioned in Dijon in the years 1426-39, a period that would match as preceding the artist’s travel to Italy, where he then might have executed his famous portrait of Pope Eugenius IV i Florence in one of the first years of the 1440s. In this connection I present arguments supporting the theory that the excellent portrait in Gemäldegalerie in Berlin, that so long has been thought to have been painted by Robert Campin and show a Robert of Masmines, in fact may be a painting by Fouquet of another fat man, the well-known Duke Arthur of Richemont, a ´small, ugly, limp man´ who by Charles of Orléans was called the ´lip guy´.

Showing that it seems rather sure that Fouquet was acquainted with the art-interested Duke René of Anjou at least already since they were at the same time living in Dijon in the 1430s, I present arguments pointing at the probability that the quite outstanding miniatures of the “Livre du Cœur d´amour épris” in Österreichische Nationalbibliothek in Vienna may have been painted by Jean Fouquet and not by some anonymous genius or by the guessed amateur René himself. I also suggest that the “Portrait of a Man” (Vaduz, Liechtenstein) is an ironic self-portrait by Fouquet meant to be seen only by his family and near friends. The marked raises that divide the exaggerated shoulders seem to indicate within which area of the royal-looking dress it is the meaning that the viewer should be able to recognize the real, still modest artist.

Scholars thinking in conventional ways may raise their eyebrows before my suggestion that the famous frontispiece of the “Chroniques de Hainault” might have been painted by Jean Fouquet, and as a satanic caricature of the court of Burgundy, with Duke Philip dollishly strutting on spider-like legs among his serviantly loyal-looking paid helpers, and with a flattened dog at his feet as a picture of total submission.

In the article about the ´Cologne´ Master of the Life of the Virgin, who most likely only delivered works to commissioners from this city, I present arguments pointing out this painter as the famous Simon Marmion in Valenciennes, an intellectual artist who in his skilfully painted theatrical scenes tried hard to offer the true believers a confirmation of their idealistic imaginations.

Of very special importance for a correct understanding of the art north of the Alps during the fifteenth century may be my conclusion that the so exceptionally enigmatic so-called Housebook Master in fact is identical to the rather well-known goldsmith Albrecht Dürer the Elder, the father of the famous artist Albrecht Dürer the Younger. In this context I also publish new information about some important German nobles who seem to have contributed to the collection of Housebook manuscripts.

Furthermore, I have tried to show that it must have been in the Holper goldsmith atelier in Nuremberg that metal engraving was, if not invented at least perfected for a commercial production of print editions, maybe in the years in the middle of the 1440s when there is reason to guess that Johann Gutenberg, the inventor of printing of books with movable type, may have spent some time in Nuremberg. There were at least close connections between the Fust-Schöffer printing firm in Mainz and the Holper atelier, which obviously arranged the sale of a great many illuminated incunabula. Engaged for the production of engravings and illuminations in the Holper atelier were, beside Albrecht Dürer the Elder also other talented artists, of which both the Israhel van Meckenems, father and son, seem to have been very important. The part of the prints that has traditionally been ascribed to an imagined Master E S seems to have been designed, but mostly not engraved by Albrecht the Elder, whose hands were not strong enough for engraving on copper, only for drypoint on a soft metal.

When presenting a brief resumé of the Bohemian-Hungarian-Austrian art milieu, in which the Housebook Master Albrecht Dürer the Elder was raised, I try to show that already this artist's father, the goldsmith Anton Dürer, may have been an important free artist, in whose atelier in Vienna there may have been produced both important illuminations and panel paintings.

It is a quite new observation that the well-known printer Lienhart Holl was also an educated and talented painter and a prominent creative force in the artistic evolution. He may have taken part in the illustration of books already from the early years of the fourteen-seventies, in the creation of woodcuts to the famous "Cologne Bible" a few years later, and in the masterly illustration of the "Lübeck Bible" and of the "Revelationes sanctae Birgittae" in the fourteen-nineties, significant works whos illustrators have up to now remained unidentified in spite of intense researches. Thanks to the identification of Holl on a supposed self-portrait, it seems to be possible to recognize him as a windblower in his printed book "Cosmographia", and in a few other other woodcuts of which the most interesting is among the illustrations of "Revelationes sanctae Birgittae".

The very characteristic features of the famous printer Johannes Froben are well-known from Hans Holbein the Younger’s portrait of him. Thanks to that we can identify him with good probability on one of the woodcuts of the "Cologne Bible", furthermore on one up to now unidentified man in a drawing by Martin Schongauer, and also on a woodcut that seemingly shows him together with "Johannes Schnitzer de Armsheim", a woodcutter who we most likely can see also as one of the blowing windheads in Lienhart Holl’s "Cosmographia". This strengthens the old guess that he should also himself have been active as a woodcutter and indicates that his part of the artistic progress may have been important.

I also make the reasonably argumented suggestion that behind the so advanced illustrations of the "Cologne Bible" ought to be found a leading artist famous for what he has contributed with to some newly before printed book, and that this artist can have been Erhard Reuwich, with a reputation based among else on the very creative but anonymous illustrations of the c. 1474 printed "Spiegel menschlicher Behältnis". It is in fact possible to see resemblances between Reuwich’s illustrations from this travels in 1483-84, also somewhat of a spiritual connection, and the woodcuts of "Des dodes dantz" and of the first part of the "Lübeck Bible", maybe his last works.

Among Albrecht Dürer the Younger’s acquaintances in Nuremberg or later may have been also Hans Holbein the Elder, the artist who I guess has painted himself as journeyman on one in Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York preserved up to now unidentified portrait, dated 1491, marked H.H. and maybe painted in Mainz. It was in this city that the printer Jacob Meydenbach just this year published his so richly illustrated popular compendium "Ortus sanitatis", to which Holbein may have contributed with drawings. Another suggestion is that some of Dürer’s drawings may have been cut by Martin Schongauer’s brothers Ludwig and Jörg, and that the first-mentioned could be identical with the so-called Hainz Narr Master and Jörg with the so-called Master of the Grüninger Terenz.

When new knowledge has made revised solutions possible, sometimes on crucial points in the history of art, this insight has helped me to understand the real ambiguous meaning of Isaac Newton’s well-known words that he had been able to see further ´by standing on ye sholders of Giants´. What Newton with his classical education insinuated was of course, that the giants of earlier science - as once the one-eyed cyclop Polyphemos - had only had a limited range of sight and had looked too much in directions right in front of them. Instead of stopping at old dead ends I have therefore tried to find new and very often dissident points of view, sometimes a little adventurous, for which my only excuse is that I have always tried to make a clear difference between facts and even very well-grounded suppositions.

It was when reading about Bruce Chatwin’s so spectacular observations as a traveller in different parts of the physical world that I became inspired to comment somewhat of what I had found interesting when reading with an explorer's curiosity some still a little patagonian parts of the printed history of late-medieval art. I am publishing this series of articles, most of them dealing with the art north of the Alps during the fifteenth century, without footnotes, because I have realized that my age will not permit me the further travelling and researches that would have been needed for a conventional scholarly publication with necessary extensive references. This decision may on the other hand give me time to publish also a few more articles, still uncompleted in lack of some essential literature, and, most disturbing, because I have for the moment almost no possibility to travel to foreign libraries and art collections.