Four Books on Human Proportion

...it will be possible to judge—to say nothing of other things—that there is no work among them that any painter, whether from the ancients or in our own age and among any nation, would not wish to be called his own. Indeed, there is surely no surer or truer indication of each person’s nature than that which is provided by the works they have produced according to their craft. Two kinds of these works stand out far beyond the rest, emerging as if from the workshop of Nature herself, and they possess even more power in what we have just said. These are what are called Representational Mimetika original: Μιμητικά; the Greek term for art that imitates or represents reality and Creative Poietika original: Ποιητικά; the Greek term for the act of making or composing, that is, representing the likenesses of things either through speech or by hand. Of these, the former are properly named "poetic," while the latter—I do not know if they have a general name—are usually understood in four ways: statues, painting, sculpture, and modeling plastice the art of molding figures in soft materials like clay or wax.

Now, however, let us speak of painting, as our purpose requires; it is itself the most praised among those four, and was called "vocal poetry" by one of the Greek poets Likely referring to the famous saying attributed to Simonides of Ceos: "Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is vocal painting.". We shall truly believe, therefore, that painters are exactly like their own works, no differently than poets. They say that Polygnotus painted everything on a grander scale, while Pauson painted smaller things Polygnotus and Pauson were ancient Greek painters; Polygnotus was known for noble subjects, Pauson for the grotesque or base. Who does not understand from this that the former possessed a loftier mind, and the latter a humbler one? Martial says that he would not be a Virgil Maro original: Maronem; referring to Publius Vergilius Maro, but only a Marsus Domitius Marsus, a contemporary poet of lower stature, even if he had obtained a patron like Maecenas—but he should have looked to himself on that matter. For no one who has read his excellent verses in the genre of epigrams would hope for such a thing, as they reveal not only a strength too weak for greater themes but also a character entirely alienated from them, with many parts even foul and deformed. For this reason, I cannot recall without a laugh that sentiment of Catullus: "it is proper for a pious poet to be chaste himself, but his verses need not be." Or that other poet who wished to prove that his morals differed from his song.

But let us dismiss the poets for now. How many painters have there been—or rather, who among them all has not declared his own nature through his works? I will not mention the ancients now, being content with examples from our own times. To whom is it not obscure that not a few have sought the praise and admiration of the common crowd through the obscenity of their painting? While they published on panels things that cannot honorably be done except in secret—indeed, things which even if done in secret are not free from wicked crime and disgrace—who would believe these men to be modest, whose minds and right hands produced such things? We have also seen the tiny and truly well-colored paintings of many, in which some genius and diligence of the master was declared, but the art was still lacking.

Therefore, in this place, we shall most justly admire Albrecht as a most diligent guardian of holiness and modesty, showing himself through the grandeur of his paintings to be well aware of his own strengths. Yet this is so that nothing among his smaller works ought to be looked down upon. In these, you will find no line drawn at random or wrongly, no superfluous dot. What shall I say about the steadiness and certainty of his hand? You would swear that the lines he drew with no assistance—using only a brush, or often a reed or a pen—were marked out with a ruler, a square, or a compass, to the great admiration of those watching. Why should I mention how, with the right hand’s harmony with the conceptions of the mind, he often cast figures of any kind of thing onto paper immediately with a pen or brush, or as they say, "placed" them? In this, I foresee that it will surely seem incredible to readers that he sometimes began with parts of the body that were far apart, not only in the subject matter but on the page, which when joined together agreed so well that nothing could have been done more fittingly.

By knowledge?

Doubtless, the singular mind of the artist, equipped with all knowledge and understanding of the truth and the consensus of parts among themselves, moderated and governed the hand itself, and commanded it to trust in itself without any supports. Similar was his readiness when holding the brush, with which he would write out even the smallest details on a linen cloth or a panel without any preliminary sketch, so that not only could nothing be faulted, but...