New Findings on the Function of Rogier van der Weyden’s Philadelphia Crucifixion
Mark S. Tucker, Philadelphia Museum of Art

Since first published in 1906, the two panels that together form the Philadelphia Crucifixion have been attributed nearly unanimously to Rogier van der Weyden. Nevertheless, the work has eluded any convincing identification with prevalent forms or display contexts. The work’s large size, the arrangement of the composition across two separate panels, the reductive treatment of narrative, space and detail, the full, naturalistic coloring, and high quality of execution, taken together, do not fit more–familiar paradigms of early Netherlandish painted altarpiece wings or independent devotional paintings. Technical and stylistic study presented in this paper, however, support the placement of the painting’s origin in a very specific class of objects with which it has not previously been associated: paintings made for the wing exteriors of Netherlandish carved altarpieces.

The identification of the Philadelphia panels as components of carved retable wings was deduced from the occurrence together of traits of carpentry, scale, proportions, and pictorial style found among extant carved altarpieces. It is known that the panels were thin for their size, consistent with the stock traditionally used for large wings. The telling technical link specifically to carved altarpieces is a horizontal row of clearly original dowel holes that pass through both panels near the bottom edge. This feature of joinery, not otherwise encountered in the construction, framing, or mounting of Netherlandish panel paintings, indicates the presence of a structural member spanning the reverse of the panel. That member’s position falls proportionally within the range occupied by a typical feature of the shallow, boxlike structures, or caisses, that house the sculpture on carved retables’ interiors: the shelf that supports the sculpture and forms the top crosspiece of the tracery-fronted compartments across the bottom. Precedents for the dowel joinery seen in the Philadelphia panels are found in the wing caisses of the Hakendover altarpiece of 1400-10, and the panel of the Frankfurt Flémalle Virgin and Child, which exhibits dowel holes posited in 1997 by Stephan Kemperdick to be an indication of that work’s origin in a carved retable.

Beyond the structural evidence, comparisons with key formal and stylistic features of the Philadelphia panels and can be found on the exterior paintings of a wide sampling of Netherlandish carved altarpieces. Traits noted as consistent with the distinct traditions of carved retable exterior paintings include large overall size, the breadth of the composition (particularly the large scale of the figures relative to format) and its continuation across adjacent panels. Also cited are the Philadelphia panels’ full coloring (in contrast to the tendency toward the grisaille of many solely painted altarpieces’ exteriors) and the placement of the scene before a wall draped with cloths of honor, creating a shallow, friezelike space comparable to that of the interior sculptural compartments. Tethering the painting’s space to the same constraints, forms, and artifice of the carved interior acknowledges sculptural space on its own terms, and ties it, in turn, to the illusionistic capacities of painting.

Comparative study of carved altarpiece forms also supports inferences about the appearance of the proposed altarpiece from which the Philadelphia panels came, based upon the most prevalent traits of such altarpieces. As for format, the most common overall shape for large carved altarpieces is the so-called “inverted ‘T’”, but whether or not a raised center section was present, the lower, main tier, which the panels would have occupied, is almost without exception a horizontal rectangle; the Philadelphia panels together, however, form very nearly a square, so they were most likely two of four large panels spanning the face of the closed altarpiece. The width of such an altarpiece would have exceeded by a small amount (10% or less) that of the largest comparable work. The altarpiece was probably a narrative cycle with large sculpture groups, a suggested paradigm of the general type being the partially visible Passion retable depicted beyond the choir screen in the Antwerp Triptych of the Seven Sacraments.

One aspect of the Philadelphia painting that is not typical of carved altarpiece exteriors is the Crucifixion subject; however, the observation by Griet Steyaert that the wing exteriors of the small carved altarpiece now in the Brussels Centre publique d'Aide sociale, which show a divided Crucifixion scene reminiscent of the Philadelphia panels, shows that other examples of the subject and form on wing exteriors did exist. If the Philadelphia panels were two of four across, the subject(s) and position of the two lost panels (i.e., both to one side, or one to either side of the Philadelphia pair) remains undetermined.

The present evidence that the Crucifixion was not an independent work, but a calculated counterpart to sculpture, introduces for consideration highly specific challenges of creation and presentation, and a more valid framework for comparison with other works, in accord with Paul Philippot’s observations about carved altarpiece paintings: that they reflect a distinct tradition, with idiomatic conceptual preferences, that they were created as integrated components of the specific, hermetic reality of those altarpieces. Such paintings may therefore exhibit a disregard for key spatial and illusionistic potentialities pursued otherwise in progressive 15th century painting, insofar as those potentialities were perceived to be in conflict with carved altarpieces’ particular programmatic and visual requirements.

The functional scenario raised by this research raises the potential for better-informed appreciation of the Philadelphia Crucifixion. Long praised as an independent work, it is suggested that the newly proposed context may clarify and enrich the distinction of the painting. There is now potential for its assessment as an image made to mediate between the exterior world and the higher sanctity of an altarpiece interior, or between private worship and formal ritual. Long appreciated in its own right as a transfixing object of contemplation and devotion, the Philadelphia painting might now be appraised equally for its deeply considered relationship to the sculpture revealed when the wings were opened. In fact, perhaps the greatest achievement of this work, as we may now regard it, is the way it was conceived to serve both its static function—as a powerful devotional image—and its transitional function—as an allusion, foil, and threshold to sculpture.

The formal traits of the Philadelphia Crucifixion are not found on every carved altarpiece and some not only on them, but by far the comparisons that best account for its combined technical and formal features are to be found among carved altarpieces. If, as proposed here, these panels came from a sculptural high altarpiece of extraordinary size, they, large in scale, boldly composed, and occupying the face the altarpiece most often on view, were its most dominant imagery. As the conspicuous representation of the painter’s eminence and authority, and vital to the potency of the altarpiece as a whole, it is easy to see why Rogier van der Weyden himself would have assumed such direct responsibility for design and execution of this Crucifixion, and why his celebrated grasp of the shared and exclusive capacities of painting and sculpture would result in the transcendent example of its kind.

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