I’ve heard it said that Prince is the guitarist’s guitarist, Tom Waits is the songwriter’s songwriter, and Bowie is the rock star’s rock star. Oh, and Vonnegut is the writer’s writer — that much I can personally affirm.
It should come as no surprise, then, to have discovered there is a painter’s painter: Rembrandt. At least according to Rodin:
Compare me with Rembrandt! What sacrilege! With Rembrandt, the colossus of Art! We should prostrate ourselves before Rembrandt and never compare anyone with him!
Auguste Rodin
And yet again, Van Gogh’s writings prove that as much as he despised so many of his contemporaries in Paris, he also had a deep reverence for this guy:
Rembrandt goes so deep into the mysterious that he says things for which there are no words in any language. It is with justice that they call Rembrandt — magician — that’s no easy occupation.
Vincent Van Gogh
Vincent apparently had a thing for him even before deciding to become an artist himself. And with a rock star quality like being known by your first name — the only painter I can think of at the moment who accomplished that feat — can you blame him?
Shot on Pixel 6 Pro.
Muttering Retreats 