Jan Victors, A Village Scene with a Cobbler

A woman, her face intent, leans towards an old man – a cobbler. She pokes her finger vigorously into a worn shoe; its pair lies on the ground at her feet. He takes the event in his stride with a little smile, holding on to the shoe he’s been working on while reaching for hers, with one of his tools still tucked into his hand. This little passage of painting is exquisite: the cobbler’s skin is leathery and his nails dirty, but his hand is gentle, like his smile; the woman’s hands are also work worn, but clean – and tense. Jan Victors gives us accurate detail, like the leather strap used as a press for the cobbler’s needle on one knee, the other bare above his tatty stocking. He shows us the delicate lace round the woman’s cap and the light twinkling on her drop earring, and the twinkle in the ragged boy’s eyes. All these small elements tell us about the characters the artist is creating, and help us build the stories the picture offers.

Is the woman anxious he should understand the repair she needs? Is she complaining about previous work he’s done? Such questions are part of the purpose of these genre paintings – pictures of peasant life, scenes that the owners would have found familiar, but with space left for their imaginations.

Some things they might have recognised at once. But the woman with the shoe is wearing the distinctive costume of West Frisia, a different part of the Dutch Republic from Amsterdam, where the artist lived. Has she married into an Amsterdam family, or has she been brought in as a maidservant? Many an urchin would have rolled barrels for a few coins like this one. The bird on the end of the barrel looks like a swan, probably the sign of the owner or the inn where it belongs. The lettering is the artist’s signature. The bright eyes of the eager little dog look up at his master, but the boy’s eyes are elsewhere. He’s finding something funny, but again we're left wondering what that might be.

In the background a small crowd is gathered by the bridge. Under a round umbrella, a quack doctor sells medicine from a doubtful source to the gullible crowd. Each person there, however sketchily painted, has a character and invites a story: the doctor with the strange hat, black beard and moustache; the lonely, shy young girl behind him; the young man with the turned up nose and fluffy hat. At least one of the quack’s patients has been badly served, judging by his pained expression as he hangs over the wall of the bridge.

Sadly, shortly after painting this, Jan Victors went to the Dutch East Indies as a siecketrooster (someone who comforts the sick). He disappeared and probably died there, looking after the humanity he had clearly treasured as an artist.