(2 of 2)
If earlier Gothic art had been monumental, with the cathedral at its climax, the waning Middle Ages preferred something less overpowering. Statues could be lifesize: but the medallion, the illuminated manuscript, and the small drawing were especially coveted. Even the church altars were made small enough to be carried from place to place. It was the time of the international "soft style," in which the lords asked only that art be fluid, with flowing garments, elegant gestures, and rich detail. The artists of the period, though rarely achieving a title more illustrious than varlet de chambre, were only too happy to oblige.
Jean to Giovanni. For all the lordly efforts at keeping things in their place, European art around 1400 was in constant flux. Noble collectors exchanged works, and artists were imported and exported as never before. The Avignon Pope established an enclave of Italian artists in France; the Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV, who was also king of Germany, catalyzed a mingling of German and Bohemian influences when he established a residence in Prague. It is often impossible to tell just where an art work came from or what was the nationality of its creator. The ivory Martyr, with her liquid grace, could have come from any number of places. The Kneeling Prophet resembles the work of André Beauneveu of Valenciennes, who worked in both France and Flanders. The cultural exchange between France and Lombardy was so brisk that artists simply renationalized their names: Jean d'Arbois was also Giovanni d'Arbosio, and Giovanni Alcherio was equally recognized as Jean d'Auchier.
The Heures de Rohan (see color) was probably made for Yolande of Aragon, the niece of the Duc de Berry, the paragon of a noble collector. He once kept an envoy from England waiting three weeks because he was too engrossed with a project of his court painter to be interrupted. He had an illuminator at every one of his many châteaux, once had a young girl kidnaped for the bed of one of his. artists. When this eccentric traveled, he took with him his most valuable tapestries—along with his swans and bears. But, happily, the Duc de Berry had taste, and the exquisite books of hours that he loved so much were perhaps the most representative masterpieces of this semifictional world.