catboxer
One of the things we've discussed here from time to time is the universal picture language that was such an important aspect of European culture in the centuries before and during the appearance of Tarot. The painter Hieronymous Bosch drew on this vocabulary to produce a picture that gives us a striking contrast to the benign images of the various Bateleurs and Bagattos of the early Tarot decks. He painted it early in his career, probably between 1480 and 1485, and you can see it at
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Coffeehouse/6028/conjurer.html It's a wonderful picture, even though the color transfer isn't top drawer.
We see a sinister-looking magician with narrow, piggish eyes and a beaky profile holding up a brass ball. He's causing a very tall, very well-dressed elderly gentleman to spit up live frogs onto a deal table which looks suspiciously like the altar in a Catholic Church. The victim looks like a person of substance, almost like a doge or a cardinal. He doesn't realize he's being robbed at the same time he's being made to look foolish. Only the little boy at his feet seems to be aware of the true state of affairs. Possibly, the cutpurse is the Conjurer's partner, and Bosch might be making a very harsh commentary on what he feels is the true purpose of this scene, a deception which is foisted on the superstitious by cynical and dishonest manipulators.
The magician appears misshapen, and like the Bagatto of the Visconti-Sforza deck he is dressed all in red and wearing a preposterous hat. An owl peeps out of his basket of tricks. For the Greeks, the owl was a symbol of wisdom, but in Bosch's pictorial language it's an emblem of the evil that flies by night. No good for the human race can come from the magician's basket. The Fool makes an appearance here too, or at least his little dog does, dressed in ass's ears and a bell-studded belt. He's hiding under the table, hidden from the crowd, a symbol of their foolishness and credulity of which they, of course, are entirely unaware. The Conjurer, on the other hand, is always aware of the vulnerability of the mob. The dog is the most vital item in his inventory of gear, since the naivete of the general run of humanity is the stock in trade that makes his dishonest and duplicitous livelihood possible.
Bosch painted this picture early in his career, and had not yet attained the mastery of composition he achieved in his later work. Parts of this scene are handled clumsily, particularly the perspective of the deal table that anchors the composition. However, much of the repertoire of the faces we usually see in Bosch's crowds is already present here, from the fat stupidity of the man on the far right to the lust of the fellow who's not even paying attention to the scene in front of him, because he's totally absorbed in the young woman who is the object of his desire.
This picture is a highly moralistic, pessemistic, and puritanical sermon. Its point of departure is one of the elements drawn from the universal pictorial vocabulary of the time which was a major, or more correctly, the major constituent of the Tarot trumps. But I think what we're looking at is the same sort of sentiment that's expressed today by Christians who condemn Tarot and all other forms of divination. Bosch's condemnation was a bit more sophisticated than what we're used to hearing today. His nefarious traveling charlatan presents a startling contrast to the essential dignity of the Tarot magicians.
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Coffeehouse/6028/conjurer.html It's a wonderful picture, even though the color transfer isn't top drawer.
We see a sinister-looking magician with narrow, piggish eyes and a beaky profile holding up a brass ball. He's causing a very tall, very well-dressed elderly gentleman to spit up live frogs onto a deal table which looks suspiciously like the altar in a Catholic Church. The victim looks like a person of substance, almost like a doge or a cardinal. He doesn't realize he's being robbed at the same time he's being made to look foolish. Only the little boy at his feet seems to be aware of the true state of affairs. Possibly, the cutpurse is the Conjurer's partner, and Bosch might be making a very harsh commentary on what he feels is the true purpose of this scene, a deception which is foisted on the superstitious by cynical and dishonest manipulators.
The magician appears misshapen, and like the Bagatto of the Visconti-Sforza deck he is dressed all in red and wearing a preposterous hat. An owl peeps out of his basket of tricks. For the Greeks, the owl was a symbol of wisdom, but in Bosch's pictorial language it's an emblem of the evil that flies by night. No good for the human race can come from the magician's basket. The Fool makes an appearance here too, or at least his little dog does, dressed in ass's ears and a bell-studded belt. He's hiding under the table, hidden from the crowd, a symbol of their foolishness and credulity of which they, of course, are entirely unaware. The Conjurer, on the other hand, is always aware of the vulnerability of the mob. The dog is the most vital item in his inventory of gear, since the naivete of the general run of humanity is the stock in trade that makes his dishonest and duplicitous livelihood possible.
Bosch painted this picture early in his career, and had not yet attained the mastery of composition he achieved in his later work. Parts of this scene are handled clumsily, particularly the perspective of the deal table that anchors the composition. However, much of the repertoire of the faces we usually see in Bosch's crowds is already present here, from the fat stupidity of the man on the far right to the lust of the fellow who's not even paying attention to the scene in front of him, because he's totally absorbed in the young woman who is the object of his desire.
This picture is a highly moralistic, pessemistic, and puritanical sermon. Its point of departure is one of the elements drawn from the universal pictorial vocabulary of the time which was a major, or more correctly, the major constituent of the Tarot trumps. But I think what we're looking at is the same sort of sentiment that's expressed today by Christians who condemn Tarot and all other forms of divination. Bosch's condemnation was a bit more sophisticated than what we're used to hearing today. His nefarious traveling charlatan presents a startling contrast to the essential dignity of the Tarot magicians.