Rembrandt’s Mistakes, and Other Do-Overs in Drawing
Cover-ups, crop-outs, and other sneaky tricks artists used to make the most out of their mistakes
Two Female Figures in Half-length and a Study of a Hand, 1861, Friedrich Preller. Getty Museum, 2009.22. Gift of Thomas and Gianna Le Claire
Body Content
How do you get from a blank piece of paper to a work of art? Practice.
Lots of practice—and a few mistakes along the way.
Masterpieces aren’t made overnight. Artists typically make dozens of early sketches, to develop composition, form, and other artistic elements.
“Any time you see a finished painting,” says curator Stephanie Schrader, “there could have been many drawings that were made to prepare first.” These sketches made for study, practice, and experimentation are often recognizable by their lack of finish, but also by the presence of fervor, speedy action, and sudden strikes of inspiration.
“It’s okay to make mistakes, to change your mind,” says Stephanie. It’s part of the process. Creativity is messy and not straightforward. The path is not linear.”
Here are a few examples of artists evolving their ideas on paper, showing that blunders often contribute to a more spectacular finished product.
Fill the Page
Study for Heinrich von Kleist’s The Broken Jug, about 1877, Adolf von Menzel. Graphite on paper, 9 3/4 × 14 3/4 in. Getty Museum, 2016.80. Gift of Dr. Richard A. Simms in honor of Lee Hendrix
Artists can struggle to portray their subjects convincingly. When dealing with weight, proportion, and emotion, they try out multiple options before settling on a final solution.
In the study above, artist Adolf von Menzel plays with several ways to show emotion. The figures depict a shocking scene from the play The Broken Jug.
The female figure on the left is comforted at the climax of the play. The artist draws her with a male hand supporting her chin at this literally jaw-dropping moment. Then (at the top left) he plays with placing the man’s hand on her shoulder, and then he continues to detail the hand in the center.
To the right we find a male face expressing shock, and additional studies of hands—one with a letter that plays a role in the drama. Multiple drawings helped Menzel visualize the best way to portray this scandalous revelation.
Draw It Again
Dead Christ (verso), about 1517–18, Pontormo (Jacopo Carucci). Black chalk on paper, 15 15/16 × 11 3/16 in. Getty Museum, 83.GG.379
Paper is readily available today, but in centuries past it was expensive and handmade, and modern erasers weren't available. Because of this, artists never wanted to waste a sheet, and often used as much of each side as possible.
In the drawing above, artist Pontormo began to draw a standing female figure but abandoned it. So he just rotated the page and began a completely new composition: the one we see here of the dead Christ.
The remarkable thing about this intense work is that he used the mass and weight of the figure he had previously created and balanced Christ on top of it. This approach generates energy and vigor, slightly elevating Christ’s body to foreshadow his resurrection.
It’s a brilliant use of the previous drawing; the figure probably wouldn’t have as much emotional impact if Pontormo hadn’t incorporated his own previous thoughts.
Paste It Over
Joseph in Prison Interpreting the Dreams of Pharoah’s Baker and Butler, about 1639, Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn. Pen and brown ink on light brown prepared paper, 7 7/8 × 7 3/8 in. Getty Museum, 95.GA.18
Here’s a fascinating case study on how to make the most of your errors, from the one and only Rembrandt van Rijn. Because he used ink in the sketch above, Rembrandt couldn't just cross out his mistake. So he pasted a zigzag-shaped piece of paper on top of his first try. Then he redrew the figure on the left.
You can see him get frustrated with this study by working the face of the central figure into something almost unrecognizable, then redrew the facial expression more cleanly above.
Want to see another of Rembrandt's mistakes? Check out An Artist in His Studio in our online collection.
Scratch It Out
The Incredulity of Thomas, about 1565, Pellegrino Tibaldi. Pen and brown ink and brown wash, heightened with white bodycolor, over black chalk, 11 1/16 × 10 3/4 in. Getty Museum, 96.GB.318
When all else fails, sometimes you just have to scratch out your slip-ups. In this work by artist Pellegrino Tibaldi, wasn't happy with the position of the main figure’s left leg. Perhaps the foreshortening was off, or maybe it was looking a little too slim. Either way, he wasn’t happy with his first try.
Luckily, Tibaldi had only used a thin line to establish the form. He adjusted the appendage slightly and built up the calf muscle. He then scratched out the previous marking, leaving behind a ghostly impression of the original leg—still visible if you look closely.
The artist also developed the figure’s other leg with minor adjustments that didn’t require obscuring the first leg quite so completely.
Paint It Over
Interior of Abbey of Aramont at Verberie, 1869, François Bonvin. Brush with brown wash and watercolor and white gouache over graphite, 12 1/8 × 10 15/16 in. Getty Museum, 2000.34
The ethereal monastery in this work might seem empty, but Stephanie knows from looking at it through transmitted-light photography that there was once a figure in this place of contemplation, in the spot of the central pillar. The artist must have decided that the stoic abbey already looked somber enough, so he painted over the figure with opaque wash.
