« Rembrandt 400 at the National Gallery

Write about Rembrandt

Thank you to everyone who submitted writing about Rembrandt. The competition is now closed.

Congratulations to Margaret Lee, K D Vandergon Firnstahl and I Zsoter on their winning entries:

Rembrandt: 'Margaretha de Geer'

'I have come for the final sitting. He looks a quick glance and paints confidently. I hope it won't be too long this time. Previously, my back ached and my body stiffened. I managed to keep calm and still by gripping the chair. He studies me so closely. The lines on my face - does he know how those lines came? Can he see beyond the toothless old woman and imagine the beauty of sixty years ago? How can he paint my past, the loves that I knew and the shadows that slipped away long ago?

No one remembers what the young woman looked like. As he paints, I dream and he cannot paint my dreams.'
Margaret Lee

Rembrandt Rhyme in Hip Hop Tyme -
Say it:

Rembrandt dipped, he didn't drip,
On light and dark, he didn't slip.
The man applied thick bright white on Jewish Bride,
In this he took deserved pride.
Brown, black colours neither / nor
either / or
signal deep depression,
This simply is my contention / suggestion.
Way out, give way is a British expression
On that I exit, yield my impression.
K.D. Vandergon Firnstahl

'It's all in the nose - really.

... They say it's all in the eyes - that the eyes are the window to the soul and one might well be forgiven for thinking that such is the case in Rembrandt's self portraits, for it is the eyes that first capture your attention. But as far as this particular artist is concerned, I feel it is not his eyes but his nose that is the salient feature of these portraits. It's really all in the nose, and what a magnificent, regal nostril it is - aggressive, protruding, three dimensional.
'Just you dare touch it' he seems to be saying to the viewer. One is sorely tempted to do just that - to twitch it, pull it, rub it, but dare one? The gallery attendant is looking - no, she isn't - she is directing a visitor to another gallery.
'Quick, now's your chance.'
I reach out - at first tentatively, then a quick, sudden gesture and tug at old Rembrandt's nose.
I could have died. I prayed for the ground to open.
He only let out a yell - didn't he? His face curled up in pain and he let out a horrible oath - all in Dutch, of course. I didn't know which way to look. But I kept my nerve - merely stooped down to tie up my shoe laces. Of course, everybody turned round to see what had happened. But all they could see was a portrait of an old man and an even older one tying up his shoe laces.
As I walked out of the gallery I swore never to tempt fate again. Temperamental lot, these artists!
I Zsoter