Art, Art & Archives, Behind the Scenes, Paintings, Voices

Getty Voices: The Power of Vermeer

Getty Voices presents first-person perspectives by members of the Getty community in weekly rotation. This week, Getty Museum curator Anne Woollett, a specialist in Dutch painting, is our guide to the enigmatic power of Vermeer, a new presence in our galleries through the loan of “Woman in Blue Reading a Letter” from the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. More throughout the week on Facebook and Twitter.

One of the most exhilarating—perhaps even the most exhilarating—experience after months of planning and envisioning a new configuration of paintings in a gallery is the instant when the long-awaited new arrival takes its place on the wall and becomes a catalyst, changing how we perceive perfectly familiar paintings. Sometimes with breathtaking immediacy, and sometimes more incrementally, the relationships between works are transformed, and individual characteristics emerge or recede in response.

On Saturday, when Vermeer’s exquisite Woman in Blue Reading a Letter took her place in the center of our large gallery of Dutch paintings, rearranged for the occasion, the impact was intriguingly complex: she seemed calmly at home, while simultaneously introducing a strong, distinctive new presence.

Woman in Blue Reading a Letter / Vermeer

Woman in Blue Reading a Letter, about 1663–64, Johannes Vermeer. Oil on canvas, 18 5/16 x 15 3/8 in. (49.6 x 40.3 cm). Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. On loan from the City of Amsterdam (A. van der Hoop Bequest)

The highly structured, almost geometric quality of Woman in Blue Reading a Letter is even more apparent here than in Amsterdam, where I last saw it in the Rijksmuseum’s conservation studio. We know that Vermeer adjusted the contours of the woman’s jacket and the left vertical edge of the map to achieve the compelling balance between fields of the white wall, strong horizontals such as the map rail, and the solid vertical of the woman in blue herself. Unlike its home environment at the Rijksmuseum, which includes three other works by Vermeer (shown below), the clarity and insistence of the composition has no parallel in the works of Vermeer’s contemporaries hanging nearby here at the Getty.

Vermeer paintings at the Rijksmuseum

The collection of the Rijksmuseum includes four paintings by Vermeer. From left: View of Houses in Delft (“The Little Street”), 1658; The Milkmaid, 1660; The Love Letter, 1669

By comparison, Jan Steen’s The Drawing Lesson, which hangs to the left of the Woman in Blue, seems messy and far less serene than before (appropriate to the subject and the painter of brilliant wit), while the quiet interiority of the elegantly dressed young woman in Gerard Ter Borch’s The Music Lesson resonates clearly with his friend Vermeer’s sensibility.

Observing the striking monumentality of Woman in Blue, a colleague remarked, “the composition is so powerful—almost abstract, it would even look beautiful hanging upside down!”

As the painting settles in for the first week of her six-week stay with us, I’ll be examining the power of Vermeer from a variety of angles (though not upside down)—please join me on on Facebook and Twitter, where I’ll share more of my observations and eagerly hear yours.

Connect with more “Power of Vermeer” content from this week’s Getty Voices:

Tagged , , , , , , Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.


  1. Robert Drew
    Posted February 19, 2013 at 11:13 am | Permalink

    Is this where I write the first line of the letter? I’m invited and invited to write the first line
    and I’ve looked and looked as to where I should submit it—and can’t find any direction
    as to how and where to submit it. So, this is the cloest I have found for “contact”—
    and here is my submission:

    Dear Madam:

    Congratulations! You’re pregnant!

  2. Polly Pritchard
    Posted February 20, 2013 at 9:12 am | Permalink

    My Darling,

    I hope this missive finds you well. I am doing all I can to ensure I will be at your side for the birth of our child.

  3. Kelli Sincock
    Posted February 20, 2013 at 2:32 pm | Permalink

    My Dearest Pumpernickel,
    To my frustration, the days have been interminably long and passing with such utter stagnation, but I am replete with excitement to impart to you, my dove, that our time apart is finally and joyfully drawing to an end.

  4. Helen Topor
    Posted February 24, 2013 at 11:05 pm | Permalink

    My dearest darling: God forbid that I should counsel you on fashion, but do you think our gossipy neighbours understand the new fashion for wearing high-waisted full skirts under loose jackets, or will they attribute the ‘new shape’ you acquired during my absence to a usurper?

Post a Comment

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>


  • Facebook

  • Twitter

  • Tumblr

    • photo from Tumblr

      Clocking in at a giant 400 square feet, this tapestry, Triumph of Bacchus, teems with tiny details and hidden narratives.

      Here are just three:

      • At bottom center, Bacchus poses on the world’s largest wine fountain.
      • To the left, a sad, Eeyore-like donkey waits for satyrs and men to unload grapes from his back.
      • To the right, a rowdy monkey rides a camel that carries wooden barrels—presumably to be filled with wine.

      The tapestry is one of the highlights of the exhibition Woven Gold: Tapestries of Louis XIV. (L.A. folks: final weekend!)

      More on The Iris: A Tour of the Triumph of Bacchus

      Triumph of Bacchus (overall view and details), about 1560, design by Giovanni da Udine under the supervision of Raphael; woven at the workshop of Frans Geubels, Brussels. Wool, silk, and gilt metal-wrapped thread. Courtesy of Le Mobilier National. Image © Le Mobilier National. Photo by Lawrence Perquis


  • Flickr