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In his book on Rembrandt, from 1916, Georg Simmel made a useful distinction between objective and subjective piety. (1) The former means that man recognizes the divine as something objective and outside himself. It is searched for in the temples and shrines. The presence of God makes him fall down on his knees in humbleness, lift his hands toward the sky or lower the head in worship. The theme of the latter is, rather, the religious individual. The pious soul is filled by an almost divine spirit, conducting not only the individual action but forming the whole personality, the subjective being. When this is the case the gods may very well not be represented at all. Or, more correctly, they are not realized as objects but as subjective traits of the human character. Between these two main types we may distinguish a third one, that of transcendence: the individual seeking the divine. He seeks knowledge of the sacred texts and symbols, and through these tries to fathom the divine and its importance in the world. The divine is not univocally and objectively present, not even in the most holy of places, but can only be grasped through hermeneutical effort and individual interpretation. The Gift The first and most obvious act of piety is taking part in the cult of the divine. But in representations of the collective cult the piousness of the individual is usually overshadowed by social obligations. Well-known examples are the Parthenon frieze, with its lively and festive mode, and the Ara Pacis. The atmosphere of the latter is more intimate, but still tells us little about individual relations to the Gods. Instead it is in the more spontaneous and individual cult of votive offerings that we first meet the iconography of piety. (2) This practice is well illustrated by a German woodcut from the middle of the 15th century (Plate 1). (3) Enthroned in the centre is St Anthony with his usual attributes, the staff with its bells and, in front of him, a swine. From a beam above his head are hung representations of hands and feet, probably in wax. In the foreground are three people with different aches and pains. A man in a tortured position points at his back, a kneeling women holds up her swollen right hand and a man laying on his back with a crutch attempts to lift one of his legs. These people have come to the shrine of St Anthony to be cured, and inspired by the votive gifts showing that others before them have been helped, to make their votive vows in front of the Saint. By the throne stand four persons, whose prayers have been heard and who are coming forth with their gifts. A man at the left side of the Saint gives a cock; a woman beside him says a prayer. On the other side a man holds forth a small cross, perhaps in silver. But most interesting is the woman’s gift. She gives a small figurine, probably in wax, in the form of a man in prayer. In all modesty this figurine is most certainly meant to represent her self, and it is directly related to the very oldest anthropomorphic votive figurines that have come down to us, dating from prehistoric or early historic times. (4) At the main altar in the Cathedral of Uppsala a similar depiction could once be seen (Plate 2). (5) It was painted in the late 15th century by Bernt Notke, and could be seen all through the 16th and 17th century, only to be destroyed in the devastating fire of 1702. Through a print from the late 17th century we know its main themes. One of the panels shows two pilgrims with their staffs kneeling by the shrine of St Eric. On the church floor and beside them are seen the remains of votive offerings. To the right we see a hand holding forth a small figurine, reassembling the one seen in the German print from about the same time. But similar motifs can also be seen in more monumental painting. Well known is Giotto’s painting of Enrico Scrovegni in the scene of the Last Judgment in Padua. (6) In his hands he holds a representation of the donated chapels, offering it to the divinity. In Sweden the same motif is represented in a painting of the Swedish king Magnus Ladulås (Barnlocker) who died in the late the 13th century. (7) The painting is badly damaged, but it is still clear that he is shown with a model of the Dominican church and convent in Stockholm that he founded, in his hands. Prayer But already by the end of the 13th century this iconography is no longer much used. The iconography of piety is separated from the idea of the gift and the offering. Important prototypes may be found in S Maria in Trastevere by Pietro Cavallini, (8) and in S Maria Maggiore, both in Rome. (9) The latter is a representation of the Coronation of the Madonna, by Jacopo Torriti. Christ and Mary are enthroned in the center of the apse, celebrated by an abundance of angels. By their sides stand the Saints, represented on a smaller scale and beside them are seen the even smaller Nicolaus IV and Cardinal Giacomo Colonna in prayer. The value perspective is often used to emphasize the secondary and subordinate importance of the donor. This holds true also for some Italian 15th century art, like that of Carlo Crivelli. (10) This is also sometimes the case in Swedish donor portraits. Especially on altarpieces, where the donors are represented on the predella, this will be more or less the rule. On a triptych in Västerås (donated 1516) the small figures of Sten Sture the Younger and Christina Nilsdotter are carved on the predella. (11) It is possible that the choice of material has saved their figures from destruction, since it is quite common to see the predellas cleaned from all painting to rid them of this, in the modern period, so unappreciated motif. In many ways this secondary presence of the donors contradict the fundamental concepts of Renaissance representation. It is therefore not surprising that, especially in Italy, new solutions will be seen coming up; solutions that incorporate the individuals with the divinities and make a uniform whole and totality out of the composition. One of the earliest examples comes from the workshop of Giotto and is found in the Magdalena Chapel of S Francesco, the lower Church of Assisi (Plate 3). (12) Two donors are depicted here, bishop Teobaldo with St Rufinus and Cardinal Pietro Vescovo di Sabina with St Magdalena. Magdalena steps forth within a cosmatic framework to meet the cardinal, kneeling just outside the imagined opening in the wall. The couple seems to be moving in and out of the framework. The man has fallen down on his knees and lifts his hands, as if to perform the traditional gesture of prayer. Instead he takes her hand and he lifts his gaze confidently toward the saint. Her imposing figure with its architectural dignity stands in contrast to the donor’s kneeling posture. A slight lingering trait of value perspective is here given a psychological interpretation by the artist. A painting in the Hermitage (Petersburg), attributed to the Venetian painter Palma Vecchio (1480-1528) is a typical example of this development (Plate 4). (13) In front of a soft landscape setting is the enthroned Madonna with Child. On each side she has the donors, a Venetian man and woman. All three of them must be understood as seated in the same room, on the same level of reality or representation. The Madonna puts her left hand on the man’s shoulder while the Child addresses the woman. This iconography is also common in Sweden in the 15th century. It can be seen in many seals, but also in larger works. In the Cathedral of Linköping is a memorial tablet for Master Gierlach, who was working with the church building 1408-1420. (14) The master builder is kneeling with some of his tools beside him in front of St Peter, the patron saint of the church. The square stone tablet is situated in the eastern chapel and the inscription reads “Master Gierlach from Cologne made this chapel. Pray for me.” The prayer is directed toward the saint and the request for intersession is put forward with reference to the built chapel. The relation between the two is direct and spatial. There is no sense of value perspective and it is the objective existence of the Master and saint that makes the represented relation possible. After the Reformation it is not until the late 16th century that the iconography is taken up again in Sweden. When this is done it is mainly from a different tradition, but in some cases we still see that the idea of approaching the divinities with direct prayers is of some importance. In the Church of Räpplinge (Öland) is a painted epitaph over Knut Christoffersen from 1584 (Plate 5). (15) The little boy, who only saw 13 days in his life, is led by an angel through a landscape toward Christ on the Cross. The iconography goes back to catholic traditions of the Archangel Raphael as a carrier of intercession and a protector of children (Book of Tobias: 12-15). The child’s hands are clasped in prayer, but the inscription is directed toward the spectator: HODIE MICHI CRAS TIB[I] (Today me, tomorrow you). The epitaph of the Laxman family in Stora Malm (Södermanland) from 1593 is in this sense more direct (Plate 6). (16) Maurits Göransson Laxman is kneeling with his wife and two daughters in a summer landscape by the Cross of the Saviour. The whole family is dressed in festival attire. The women wear expensive jewelry and dresses; he is represented as a knight in splendid armor with gilded details. Two tablets with ornament frames gives expression to their prayers: GVD WARE OS SŸNDARE NÅDIGH (God be merciful to us sinners) and O GVD FÖRBARMA TIG ÖFVER OS SŸNDARE (O God have pity on us sinners). In the background a city is seen and the iconography goes back to St Paul’s admonitions for a pious life, in the last chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. The family has followed his advice and gone out of the city to give praise to the Lord and to share the sufferings of Christ on the Cross. This iconography is quite often used in early 17th century Sweden. One of the last examples is the epitaph of Anna Jacobsdotter in Spånga (Stockholm) from 1640 (Plate 7). (17) The girl, who is presented as a “virtuous and pious virgin”, has left the busy city culture behind her to meet her Saviour. The baroque perspective, with the tilted Cross and a more plastic landscape than in the Laxman epitaph, gives an intimacy between Christ and the girl that is unusual for this time in Sweden. Contemplation In Early Netherlandish painting the problem of incorporating the donor with the religious context is solved in a different way. While in Italian painting the relation between the human and the divine is characterized by closeness and intimacy, contemplative devotion becomes the main motif of this tradition. The most important aspects of the Netherlandish donor portraits emerges as early as in the painting of Jan van Eyck. In the Rolin Madonna from 1435/36 the Chancellor is represented kneeling with hands held together, as in Italy. (18) But to this come the prayer book and the pulpit, probably derived from the illustrated devotional literature. (19) The Madonna of Rolin is not so much an object for celebration as the subject of pious contemplations. After this example the prayer book is seldom missing in Netherlandish donor portraits. It is seen again in van der Paele’s Madonna by van Eyck from 1436. (20) The proportions between the architecture and the figures give this painting a monumental trait, despite the modest format, and a shimmer of unearthliness. As often in Italian art the donor is accompanied by his patron saint, St George, and also by the patron saint of the church, St Donatus. In the centre is Maria with the child enthroned, but the pale figure of van der Paele is characterized by an inwardness that does not correspond with the manifest presence of the divinities. In his hands he holds a prayer book and a pair of glasses. He makes a pause in his meditations and lifts his eyes to confirm the presence of his inner vision. This way of relating the human and the divine opened up new possibilities. While in Italian art the divine is represented as majestic and enthroned, it is in the Netherlands understood as part of a narrative. Already Robert Campin (active first half of 15th century) depicts the donors with representations of the Entombment, the Annunciation or the Decent from the Cross. (21) Later artists will make use of almost any Biblical motif, such as the Baptism of Christ, the Last Supper or the Resurrection. The depicted individuals are confronted with a specific divine context, with its special moral and religious importance, rather than delivering prayers to the individual divinities. One of the last works of this large genre of Netherlandish painting is the St Lawrence triptych by Marten van Heemskerck from 1543 (Plate 8). (22) It was originally painted for the Church of St Lawrence in Alkmar. Through the Swedish king John III Vasa it was saved from Calvinist iconoclasm and taken to Sweden somewhere around 1580. In the early 1580’s it was taken to Linköping were it was placed on the high altar of the Cathedral. The work was considered as of extraordinary importance and according to Gustav II Adolf it was one of the three most important works of art in Sweden still in the 1620’s. A copy of the triptych was made in the 1630’s for the church in Sköldinge, not far from Linköping and other copies have been made since. (23) The studied mannerism of van Heemskerck gives the paintings an exceptional and intense liveliness. Much use is made of the ‘aesthetics of citation’ that was so frequently practiced by the Mannerists, e.g. the figure of Laocoon can be recognized. (24) But the figure of the donor Bishop Egmont of Utrecht also made an impression on the Swedish public. He is depicted kneeling on the left wing, in the upper field, with his prayer book opened on the pulpit in front of him. Despite the turmoil surrounding him–the sufferings of Christ, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection–he stays calm. It is as if everything taking place around him is nothing but the result of his own efforts, through devotional meditations, to call forth visions of the divine. An example of this influence is the painted epitaph for Daniel Salomonis Fromme in Aspö (Södermanland). Daniel served as a priest here until his death in 1603. We know that he was a strict Protestant, complaining against John III’s efforts to reintroduce some of the Catholic practice. (25) Still he seems to have seen no problem with this, by Swedish standards, new iconography of piety imported from Catholic culture. He is kneeling with his family in a landscape and like the bishop of the St Lawrence triptych they all have little prayer books on pulpits in front of them (Plate 9). The subject of the meditation is also derived from the Heemskerck altarpiece, the Resurrection. At the top God the Father is depicted, looking down on his son and family. This marks the definite breakthrough of the Netherlandish donor motif in Swedish painting. From the same workshop is an epitaph for Petrus Jonae in the Cathedral of Strängnäs. (26) A few years later, in the region of Västerås, we find similar compositions. One of them was painted for the burgher Gerdt Hansson Körner in 1617 to memorialize a dead daughter, and found in the Cathedral of Västerås (Plate 10). (27) When compared to the epitaphs of the Laxman family or Anna Jacobsdotter everything may at first appear similar. But the difference is not only that the Körner family seems so much more detached from the divine, with their dark silhouettes against the more plastic religious scene. The presence of Maria, Magdalena and St John also makes this Crucifixion more of a historical narrative than the other two representations. And the inscriptions are not prayers directed toward the Saviour but a quote from the Bible, making the well-known comparison between the Crucifixion and the Brazen Serpent. Through this reference to the Old Testament pre-figuration, the idea of reading and interpretation is reinforced, as opposed to the idea of worship. It would certainly be a mistake to presume that the family was indifferent to the sufferings of Christ because they are turning their backs on him. But their attention is of an inner, contemplative character, not direct and celebrative. Other examples from the same workshop and in the same church also show the families with little prayer books, depicted in front of the Resurrection and the Lance. Both are scenes from the Bible that were not the object of worship, but rather subjects for reflection and pious meditation. And as in the Netherlands a great artistic advantage was that almost any theme from the Bible could be used, not only representations of enthroned divinities. This iconography of piety was used all through the 17th century in Sweden. But the logical outcome of the change is that the prayer itself becomes the main motif, instead of the religious scenes. An epitaph in Sandsjö (Småland) from 1662 shows the Printzenskiöld family together in prayer, the mother and father in the centre and two girls and two boys at their sides (Plate 11). In front of them lies a little child on a small bed. This is the son Jacob who died in a Danish prison just after he was born. Carried by the collective efforts of the family the boy is lifted to heaven above them. Two angels bearing a garland are all that can be seen of divine presence. (28) Even darker is the mood of a painting from the Church of St Ibb on the island of Ven (Skåne). (29) It is dated 1668 but otherwise lacks all inscriptions (Plate 12). Still, it is clearly within the tradition of donor- and epitaph-painting in 17th century Sweden. It depicts Kirsten Jensdotter together with her former as well as her present husband and their children. Kirsten herself falls down on her knees on a small pillow with her hands gathered in prayer. The deceased husband makes his predicament clear by directing the viewer’s attention toward a skull he is holding in his hands. By his side stand four children, the two in the foreground probably also dead. They wear flower garlands on their heads and are painted in lighter colors than the others. At Kirsten’s right side kneels her second husband, the parish priest Lars Nilsson. In his folded hands he holds the by now compulsory little prayer book. Beside him stand five more children, while two early dead infants lay tucked up on the floor. Above the woman’s grave features, the dark, undefined room opens up in a radiant light of divine glory. There is no doubt that the act of devotion itself is the main motif of this painting, withholding the actual object of it. With staring eyes the gathered family, almost in horror, looks out on a world outside the community of devotion. Moving the motif from the natural environment, as given by God, to cultural space formed by the human, opens up new possibilities. The object of pious attention is no longer the divine beings and their lives, but objects separated form all nature and narration. A memorial tablet for the parish priest Lucas Gadd and his family in Bälinge (Södermanland), signed by Johan Raam, is a fine example of this change (Plate 13). (30) The family father, up in the left corner, signals the devotional character of the group portrait by folding his hands for prayer. Beside him can be seen his wife with a small fan and the traditional prayer book. Behind her stands the former wife of Lucas. She holds her arm around a little girl with flowers in her hair, in a light dress and with a palm in her right hand. In front of the father are two younger men. The elder of the two has a book in his hand with the text JHOVE LITABOR GRATES (I will give thanks to God). The younger one holds up a watch against the picture plane. The symbol is directed toward the viewer and has an effect of verfremdung, since the scene–with its blend of living and dead–must be taking place in a ‘time’ that can hardly be read on any mechanical clock. The worldly time of social conventions is set in stark contrast with the spiritual and religious time where this communion takes place. In front of the man with the watch stand two more children with palms in their hands. In the foreground stand a girl and a boy. The later holds a distaff, a common symbol of the vanity of human strife. The girl, who is embraced by the older brother, carries a basket of tulips. Behind the back of the father, unseen by the gathered, a casket is held forth. In it is a golden crown and above it is written LUX GLORIA NICTAT (The light of honor glitters). This work may be seen as an eclectic, desperate attempt to gather as many emblematic symbols as possible. But it also shows with what eagerness these objects for interpretation were embraced not only by humanists and aristocrats but also by the lower strata of priests, by women and even by children–if we are to believe this artist. The family is gathered for prayers and devotion. But instead of reading the Bible and contemplating sacred history, their thoughts are occupied with the symbols of the vain worldliness outside their circle. The demonstration of this active repudiation of the world is its virtue and, by paradox, its piousness and its road to salvation. In Sweden this whole tradition comes to an almost surreal end with the painted epitaph for the bookkeeper Carl Hinderson from 1717 (Plate 14). (31) Its main motif is a painting of the bookkeeper himself with his family in a gigantic room, with an architecture completely dwarfing the figures. The floor is furnished with enormous stone plates and behind the family stands a high wall. From the top of the room falls a great curtain, exposing the wall, some bushes and a clear sky–except for a few stylized and thin, featherlike clouds. The male members of the family are dressed in characteristic Carolinian dress; heavy coats with straight rows of buttons as the only ornament. Some
of them hold little prayer books in their hands. To the right stands the
mother with a fan in her hand and beside her two daughters in full-length
dresses. Two of the daughters have flower garlands in their hair and together
hold a bouquet of tulips. The short, pointed shadows that the male figures
throw on the floor–not one but two for each individual, one from
each foot–contributes to the surreal impression. Portrait The act of contemplation is a common motif also in portrait painting, from the time of Jan van Eyck and well into the 18th century. The portrayed are represented not only with prayer books or in prayer, but also with their objects of meditation. An
example is the portrait of Jehan Barrat and Jehenne Cambry by an anonymous
French artist, around 1510 (Plate 15). (32) They both hold a carnation
in the right hand, as if offering it to each other. The carnation may
symbolize love or faith, but it is not the iconographical meaning in itself
that is important. More important, in this context, is how the possibilities
of multiple meanings are used to build up a contemplative atmosphere. Flowers were common also in 17th century Swedish portraits, for example those painted by Jacob Elbfas, Heinrich Munnichhoven and David Klöcker Ehrenstrahl. (33) In the devotional literature, meditations on flowers go back to the Bible and Classical texts. These meditations could lead up to the most complicated interpretations. In a book by Johannes Condicius, published in Sweden in 1696, one is advised to make different meditations at different hours of the day, a so-called Horology. At five o’clock prayers should be given on five different flowers: 1. The Key-to-heaven. 2. The Gold-flower. 3. The Love-rose. 4. The Chaste-lily. 5. The Sun-flower. These should lead pious thought to five different animals, with their different virtues: 1. The plain dove. 2. The patient sheep. 3. The hard-working ant. 4. The brave lion. 5. The attentive crane. Furthermore the reader is reminded of the five Wounds of Christ, which will protect us against: 1. The devil. 2. The world. 3. Sin. 4. Death. 5. Conscience. (34) Such excess in interpretation is not uncommon and is a warning for us today not to make all too unequivocal iconographical analyses of symbols such as these. What is represented is, more often, not well-defined symbolic meanings but the idea of subjective contemplation as a virtue. The symbols are, if nothing else, attributes of the soul. They are directed toward the inner life of the portrayed, and only secondarily toward the viewer. They are better understood as practices of meditation than of rhetoric. Whole sermons were composed out of such meditations. The priest Johan Jacob Leibnitz held one on the flower of Sharon in 1704 (Plate 16). At his death the year after a print was published depicting him with the flower in his hand. An accompanying text summarizes the sermon, where the purple color is compared to the blood of Christ and his sufferings. Like this flower, man must try to be like Christ, it is said. (35) Almost any object could become a focus of attention for the pious viewer. In a much read manual by Joseph Hall, Meditationes, published in Sweden in 1643, instructions are given on how to build up inner images of divine and heavenly matters. (36) Possible objects for meditation are divided into five categories: The persons, the room, the time, the movements and the material. Most important is not what is meditated upon, though, but how it is seen: “Now all this would be in vain, if man just looked upon the creatures, and did not think any more. It would be as if she was blind, or simply an animal without soul.” (37) It seems that objective, unattached observation is considered beastly, whereas the pious gaze is one of moral and active interpretation. The hermeneutical effort is what makes man different from the animals and worthy his eternal soul. The same values are expressed in a portrait print of the magistrate Olof Larsson (1592-1675), made by Dionysius Padt-Brügge after a painting by Goevert Camphuisen (Plate 17). (38) The portrayed rests one hand on a skull while making a movement towards his heart with the other. At a table stands a crucifix. There is nothing uncommon about this iconography, what is unusual is that it is accompanied by a text explaining the symbols:
The crucifix, the skull or the gesture toward the heart is thus explicitly said not to illustrate faith, love and hope. But if we could see the man’s pious interpretations, if we could look into his soul, we would see that he is inclined toward such thoughts. His contemplative character makes him a true Christian. Even a humanist painter like David Klöcker Ehrenstrahl could not do without this iconography. It is not only that he painted his clients in prayer and meditation. (39) When depicting educated men at work in their study, the same formula would also be used. The astronomer Johann Heinrich Voigt is portrayed in front of his working desk, giving the artist ample opportunity to display his knowledge of still life painting and his acquaintance with the world of details (Plate 18). (40) Voigt seems to be interrupting his work, turning toward the visitor or viewer. But his mind is still absorbed by the problems that the scientific objects around him pose. He is a figure of learned investigation: alone and full of thought. But the iconography of piety, as such, was to disappear in the 18th century. Piousness is no longer represented by the outward attributes of man. It is not thought of any more as an ability to relate to the world, but more of an inner quality. Its representation therefore no longer depends on learned iconographies but on aesthetic preferences, the responsibility of the artist being to bring forth desired traits of the individual countenance. The immense baroque appetite for hermeneutics, reaching far back into the early Christian era and Antiquity, seems to have come to an end. NOTES 1 Georg Simmel, Rembrandt. Ein kunsphilosophischer Versuch, Leipzig 1919 [1916], pp 141 ff. 2 On votive offerings a standard work is Lentz Kriss-Rettenbeck, Ex voto. Zeichen, Bild und Abbild im christlichen Votivbrauchtum, Zurich 1972. On gifts in general the most important contribution is still Marcel Mauss’ Essai sur le don (1925). 3 Kriss-Rettenbeck, p 25. 4 Compare with the most ancient anthropomorphic votive figure that has come down to us, from pre-historic Mesopotamia: Seton Lloyd, The Archaeology of Mesopotamia. From the Old Stone Age to the Persian Conquest, London 1987, p 112. 5 Artur Bygdén, “Sankt Eriks skrin genom tiderna”, Erik den helige. Historia, kult, reliker, [Ed Bengt Thordeman], Stockholm 1954, p 338. The print was first published by Johan Peringskiöld, Monumenta Ullerakerensia cum Upsalia nova, Stockholm 1719, p 25. 6 Robert H Rough, ”Enrico Scrovegni, the Cavalieri Gaudenti, and the Arena Chapel in Padua”, Art Bulletin 1980:1, pp 26 ff. 7 Martin Olsson, Riddarholmskyrkan, Sveriges kyrkor, Stockholm II, Stockholm 1937, pp 180 ff. 8 Paul Hetherington, Pietro Cavallino. A Study in the Art of Late Medieval Rome, London 1979, pp 20-22. 9 John White, Art and Architecture in Italy: 1250-1400, Pelican History of Art (Z 28), 1966, pp 99 ff. 10 A Venturi, Storia dell’arte italiana VII:3, Milano 1914, pp 346-394. 11 Gunnar Ekström, Västerås domkyrkas inventarier genom tiderna, Västerås 1976, p 52. 12 Cesare Gnudi, Giotto, Milano 1959, pp 180-186. 13 Colin Eisler, Paintings in the Hermitage, New York 1990, p 177. 14 Bengt Cnattingius, Ralph Edenheim, Sune Ljungstedt, Marian Ullén, Linköpings domkyrka I, Sverige kyrkor, vol 200, Stockholm 1987, p 351. 15 Gunnar Håkansson, Öländska personminnen bevarade i äldre gravstenar, epitafier och andra kyrkliga föremål, Göteborg 1942, pp 252 ff. 16 Boo von Malmborg, Svensk porträttkonst genom fem århundraden, Nationalmusei skriftserie 18, Malmö 1978, p 41. 17 Armin Tuulse, Spånga och Hässelby kyrkor, Sveriges kyrkor, Stockholm VIII, Stockholm 1964, p 174. 18 Craig Harbison, ”Religious Imagination and Art-historcial Method: A Reply to Barbara Lane’s ’Sacred versus Profane’”, Simiolus, Vol 19:3 (1989), pp 198-205. Further referenses are given there. 19 Carol J Purtle, ”The Iconography of Prayer, Jean de Barry, and the origin of the Annunciation in a Church”, Simiolus 20:4 (1990/1991), pp 227-239. 20 Rudolf Terner, ”Bemerkungen zur ’Madonna des Kanonikus van der Paele’”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte XLII (1979), p 83-91. Further referenses are given there. 21 Shirley Neilsen Blum, Early Netherlandish Triptychs. A Study in Patronage, Berkley & Los Angeles 1969, pp 1-16. Erwin Panofsky, Early Netherlandish Painting. Its Origins and Charcter, Harvard University Press 1953, pp 153 ff. 22 Bengt Cnattingius & Axel L Romdahl, Maerten Heemskercks Laurentiusaltare i Linköpings domkyrka, Stockholm 1953, pp 27 ff. 23 Inga-Lena Ångström, Altartavlor i Sverige under renässans och barock. Studier i deras ikonografi och stil 1527-1686, Acta Universitatis Stockholmiensis 36, Stockholm 1992, pp 67 ff. 24 Bengt Cnattingius, Heemskerck’s St. Lawrence Altar-piece in Linköping Catherdral. Studies in its Manneristic Style, Kungl Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitetens Akademien, Antikvariskt arkiv 52, Stockholm 1973. 25 Magnus Collmar, Strängnäs stifts herdaminne 2. Den äldre vasatiden, Nyköping 1964, pp 134 ff. 26 Robert Bennet & Erik Bohrn, Strängnäs domkyrka II:1, 27 Sveriges kyrkor, Södermanland, Vol 159, Stockholm 1974, p 62. 27 Ekström, p 211. 28 L Berger, ”Den svenske guvernören Prinzenskiölds mord och upproret på Bornholm 1658”, Historisk tidskrift 1888, p 313-340. 29 Lunds stifts herdaminne från reformationen till nyaste tid, Ser II:7, (Ed Gunnar Carlquist), Lund 1959, pp 620 ff. 30 Swedish Portrait Archive (SPA), Nationalmuseum, Stockholm. C 1918:366. 31 Antiquarian Topographichal Archive, Stockholm. Mariefreds kyrka. Södermanland. 32 Sammlung Marczell von Nemes München, München 1931, p 57. 33 See Malmborg, pp 53-130. 34 Johannes Condicius, Andelig Pärle-Skrud, Stockholm 1696, pp 5 ff. 35 Porträtt. Kart- & bildarkivet. Uppsala University Library. 36 Stina Hansson, Ett språk för själen. Litterära former i den svenska andaktslitteraturen 1650-1720, Skrifter utgivna av Litteraturvetenskapliga institutionen i Göteborg 20, Göteborg 1991, p 134-150. 37 Joseph Hall, Meditations eller betrachtelses förträflige öfning, Stockholm 1643, pp 5-6. 38 Porträtt. Kart- & bildarkivet. Uppsala University Library. 39 Allan Ellenius, Karolinska bildidéer, Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Ars Suetica I, Uppsala 1966, p 131. 40 Bertil Rapp, Djur och stillebeni i karolinskt måleri, Stockholm 1951, p 55. Peter Gillgren, Gotland University, S-621 57 Visby, Sweden Source: "The Eye of Faith. Chages in the Iconography of Piety", Baroque Dreams. Art and Vision in Sweden in the Era of Greatness, Ed. Allan Ellenius, Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Figura NS 31, Uppsala 2003, pp 99-123. Note: Due to copy-right restrictions no illustrations are found in the above text, but in the printed version only.
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