The Allure of Vision: The Act of Seeing in Albert van Ouwater’s The Raising of Lazarus
by Sunmin Cha
Albert van Ouwater’s The Raising of Lazarus (ca. 1460–1475) is a spectacle in every sense of the word. This rare surviving work by the pioneering Haarlem painter is not only a visual feast for the viewer but also a profound meditation on the act of seeing itself.1 The painting is populated with carefully rendered figures dressed in vibrant, richly detailed attire, their varied poses and expressions drawing the eye across the composition. In the foreground, the viewer encounters the striking figure of Lazarus himself. His pale, lifeless body, now restored to life, is depicted in a vulnerable state of nudity, drawing immediate attention to the miraculous narrative from the Bible. Arriving in Bethany four days after Lazarus had died, Christ met Mary and Martha, Lazarus’s two sisters. After reaffirming the faith of the sisters, Christ called upon the dead man. When he said, “Come forth, Lazarus,” in front of the cave where he had been buried, Lazarus came out with his hands and feet bound in graveclothes.
Previous scholarship refers to Rogier van der Weyden’s The Exhumation of St. Hubert (fig. 2) in the National Gallery, London, as the direct model for Ouwater’s panel, explaining his innovative composition as an imitation of the master.2 However, such an interpretation does not fully account for Ouwater’s distinctive approach. In this essay, I argue that Ouwater deliberately rendered Christ’s miraculous act as a visual spectacle. In doing so, he juxtaposed the biblical narrative with the contemporary liturgical spectacle of the Eucharist.
It should be noted that the moment of Lazarus’s resurrection had rarely been depicted in independent panel paintings in the Netherlands during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Traditionally, this theme was confined to illuminated manuscripts, particularly within the Office of the Dead in Books of Hours, where its placement underscored the narrative’s relevance to prayers for the deceased.3 Ouwater’s—or his patron’s—decision to isolate this moment from its traditional narrative context and depict it as an independent panel painting marks a significant shift. It transforms the scene from a private devotional aid in small-size manuscripts into a striking large-scale visual spectacle.
Moreover, Ouwater’s panel strikingly departs from the biblical description as well as the pictorial tradition.4 He moved the event to the choir of a Romanesque church.5 This indoor setting of the scene contradicts the biblical account of the event, which precisely refers to Lazarus’s tomb as a “cave.”6 To the best of my knowledge, Ouwater’s painting is the only fifteenth-century Netherlandish panel to set the Raising of Lazarus within an architectural interior.7 For instance, two Flemish manuscripts, roughly contemporaneous with Albert van Ouwater, depict the resurrection of Lazarus in a distinctly different manner from Ouwater’s panel. One is found in the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry which was illuminated by the Limbourg brothers between 1411 and 1416 (fig. 3). Another manuscript, known as the Salting Hours, was made in the workshop of Simon Marmion around 1470 (fig. 4). In both manuscripts, the Raising of Lazarus appears in the opening page preceding the Office of the Dead. While architectural elements are present, the open fields, trees, and expansive sky clearly establish the outdoor setting.8
In Ouwater’s panel, the inner space of the Romanesque church is occupied by the biblical figures. The painter clearly separated the spectators into two contrasting groups. To Lazarus’s right stands Christ, who has raised him from the dead with his hand in blessing. Mary kneels at Christ’s side, facing her brother in prayer. Martha—the second sister of Lazarus—and three disciples complete the group of people gathered around Christ. Each of them is depicted in humble gestures of devotion and reverence. In stark contrast, the figures on Lazarus’s left—lavishly dressed Jews—add an element of opulence and skepticism to the scene. Among them, two individuals vividly cover their noses, recoiling from the stench of the decaying body of Lazarus.9 The visceral response not only heightens the realism of the scene but also evokes a multi-sensorial dimension, inviting viewers to imagine themselves present in this miraculous moment.
In the immediate foreground, the protagonist of the narrative, Lazarus, emerges from his grave in a strictly frontal position, directly facing the viewer.10 In the miniature examples, Lazarus is depicted rising out of the grave in an oblique pose as he gazes at Christ (figs. 3 and 4). This is also visible in a later painting by Geertgen tot Sint Jans (ca. 1465–1495), who was a disciple of Ouwater (fig. 5).11 In these instances, the pictorial emphasis is on Christ, not Lazarus. As Lazarus’s body and gaze guide the beholder’s attention to Christ, they emphasize that the miraculous resurrection of the dead was made through the intervention of God. On the contrary, Ouwater put a greater emphasis on Lazarus. In his painting, Christ is relatively invisible compared to Lazarus whose centrality and frontality immediately capture the beholder’s attention.
The unusual prominence given to Lazarus may allude to the Mass.12 Since the earliest days of Christian theology, Lazarus’s resurrection has been understood as a prefiguration of Christ’s own resurrection and, by extension, the Eucharist. Just as Lazarus emerged from his tomb after four days, Christ rose from the dead. During the Mass, this resurrection was symbolically reenacted each time the priest elevated the host above the altar, emphasizing the transformative power of the sacrament.13 Twelfth-century theologian Simon Tournai likened Lazarus’s resurrection to the miraculous transubstantiation at the Eucharist, emphasizing that both events defied natural order through divine intervention.14
Indeed, the prominent place of Peter in Ouwater’s painting alludes to the priestly role in the sacrament of the Eucharist.15 Behind Lazarus stands Peter, who uses an expressive gesture to point out to the Jews the deep meaning of the miracle that is taking place before their eyes. Ouwater has given Peter an unusual position at the very center of the composition. Not only does he conspicuously occupy the middle of the painting, but his wide-open arms also introduce the resurrected Lazarus to the spectators in the painting and to the viewer outside the painting. His significant role in the resurrection of Lazarus is testified neither in the Bible nor in the preceding images.
Behind him, the remaining part of the building is separated by a wall-like structure. Behind this structure, the crowd trying to witness the event is seen through the grate of the window, and these figures form a dynamic, densely packed group. Their presence suggests the widespread fascination and curiosity surrounding Lazarus’s resurrection. Yet these figures are not merely decorative; they become participants in the drama, as they bear witness to the climactic moment of Lazarus’s resurrection.
Compared to the onlookers in The Exhumation who surround the entire ambulatory behind the screen, they occupy only a small part of Ouwater’s painting (figs. 6 and 7). However, the meticulous depiction of their gestures and faces effectively conveys their desire to witness the miraculous event in front of them. Given the approximately nine people tightly squeezed into a small window-like frame, one can almost feel how they push each other to get a better view of the miracle. For instance, one man raises his chin to look beyond another person in front of him, which shows his intense desire to witness the event. Even though Rogier van der Weyden’s panel is much more crowded, the onlookers behind the choir screen do not show any eagerness to see the event happening before them. Their calm and even aloof attitude strikingly differs from the spectators in The Raising of Lazarus who indeed illustrate the dynamic act of seeing.
Together, the figures of Lazarus and Peter, along with the spectators arranged along the vertical centerline of the painting and set within a Romanesque building, visually evoke the ritual practice of the Eucharist as understood in the late medieval period. As Miri Rubin has argued, at the center of the whole religious system of the Late Middle Ages lay a ritual which turned bread into flesh.16 The Eucharist serves as a means for believers to recall Christ’s past sacrifice while making it present and accessible to them. Through this reenactment of the original sacrifice, the ritual renews and imparts grace.17 However, the participation of the laity was limited to viewing the sacrament, as they rarely consumed the Host on days other than Easter.18 Instead, they regularly attended church to witness the Elevation of the consecrated Host.19
The exceptional level of desire to see the resurrection of Lazarus figured in Ouwater’s painting, in fact, parallels contemporary worshippers’ yearning to participate in and see the Elevation of the Eucharist. The Elevation was essentially a moment of the display. Introduced in the twelfth century, the ritual of raising the Host was designed to visually engage the laity and mark the moment of transubstantiation—especially since most worshippers had little understanding of Latin prayers.20 To enhance its visibility, measures were taken such as suspending a brightly colored cloth behind the altar or using candlelight to silhouette the raised Host.21 In fact, according to a fifteenth-century Augustinian monk, some worshippers even called out to the priest, urging him to raise the Host higher.22 To see the Host was the most important element for late medieval devotees during the celebration of the Mass. This was to see the real presence of Christ.
Albert van Ouwater’s The Raising of Lazarus captures a dual spectacle: the viewer outside the painting marvels at Ouwater’s technical mastery and vivid storytelling, while within the painting, the spectators themselves behold the miracle of life restored by Christ. The late medieval viewer of Ouwater’s painting could identify with the onlookers behind the window, who embody the visual experience during the Mass. Indeed, a man clothed in red, looks directly at the viewer and urges us to join him. In this sense, the real spectators and painted spectators converge in Ouwater’s painting. This multi-layered interplay between seeing and being seen transforms the theme of the Raising of Lazarus into a deeply immersive experience, inviting the audience to reflect on their own role as spectators of the miraculous.
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Sunmin Cha is a PhD candidate at Columbia University focusing on the intersections between religious iconography and artistic production in sixteenth-century Haarlem, with a particular emphasis on the Man of Sorrows. She is currently writing her dissertation which examines how artists like Maarten van Heemskerck, Cornelis van Haarlem, and Hendrick Goltzius responded to the religious and political shifts of the time through their paintings.
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1. The attribution of The Raising of Lazarus to Albert van Ouwater (ca. 1415–1475) is largely based on the description of Karel van Mander: “I have seen a grisaille copy of a large, upright painting done by Albert, portraying the Resurrection of Lazarus. The original had been taken to Spain in a tricky way, without any payment having been made, after the siege and surrender of Haarlem. The figure of Lazarus was beautiful for its time, a remarkable nude painting. An architectural detail in this picture was a temple, of which the columns were rather small. On one side, apostles were shown, on the other, Jews. There were pleasing female figures in the picture, too. In the background some people could be noticed looking through a colonnade of the choir. (Daer was vam hem een paslijck groot stuck in de hooghte, waer van ick heb ghesien een ghedootverwede Copie, en was de verweckinghe van Lasarus: het principael werdt nae d’Haerlemsche belegheringhe en overgangh, met ander fraeyicheyt van Const, van den Spaengiaerden bedrieghlijck sonder betalen ghebracht in Spaengien. Den Lasarus was (nae dien tijt) een seer schoon en uytghenomen suyver naeckt, van goeden welstandt. Daer was een schoon Metselrije van eenen Tempel: doch de Colomnen en t’werck wat cleen wesende, op d’een sijde Apostelen, op d’ander sijde Ioden. Daer waren oock eenige aerdighe Vroukens, achter quamen eenighe, die toesaghen door Choor pilaerkens.)” Carel van Mander et al., The Lives of the illustrious Netherlandish and German painters, from the first edition of the Schilder-boeck (1603-1604): preceded by the lineage, circumstances and place of birth, life and works of Karel van Mander, painter and poet and likewise his death and burial, from the second edition of the Schilder-boeck (1616-1618) (Davaco, 1994). 1: fol. 205 v. The original Dutch is cited from James Snyder, “The Early Haarlem School of Painting: I. Ouwater and the Master of the Tiburtine Sibyl,” The Art Bulletin 42, no. 1 (1960): 42.
2. Stephan Kemperdick, “Albert van Ouwater: The Raising of Lazarus,” Oud Holland 123, no. 3/4 (2010): 241–43. Kemperdick convincingly demonstrates that the motif of the onlookers placed behind a grate in the ambulatory, the brightly lit ambulatory itself, and the open grave placed parallel to the picture plane in a tiled floor are noticeable in both paintings. However, his research likewise focuses on creating lineage between the artists. Based on Ouwater’s familiarity with the van der Weyden panel, he assumes the possible training of Ouwater in the southern Netherlands.
3. Kathryn M. Rudy, “A Pilgrim’s Book of Hours: Stockholm Royal Library A233,” Studies in Iconography 21 (2000): 250. Books of Hours were personal prayer books modeled after the breviaries used by monks and religious communities. Typically, Books of Hours included a variety of prayer sequences or offices, such as the Little Office of the Virgin Mary, the Office of the Holy Cross, and the Office of the Holy Spirit. The Office of the Dead was a specific sequence of prayers intended to be recited for the souls of the deceased, particularly aimed at reducing their time in purgatory. It was often visually introduced by scenes of death and resurrection, such as scenes of Hell, Purgatory, and the Raising of Lazarus.
4. Jacqueline E. Jung, “Seeing Through Screens: The Gothic Choir Enclosure as Frame,” in Thresholds of the Sacred: Architectural, Art Historical, Liturgical, and Theological Perspectives on Religious Screens East and West, ed. Sharon E. J. Gerstel (Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection: Harvard University Press, 2006), 185–88. In her research on the Gothic choir screen, Jung specifically points out that the indoor setting of the painting contradicts the biblical description of the tomb of Lazarus. She compares the wall-like structure in Ouwater’s The Raising of Lazarus with the Gothic choir screen, which does not only conceal the sacred event from the laity but also reveals it to them.
5. Kemperdick, “Albert van Ouwater,” 235. Carved reliefs on the Romanesque capitals of the ambulatory depict scenes from the Old Testament—the Flight of Hagar and Ismael, the Sacrifice of Isaac, Moses Before the Burning Bush, and God Giving the Tablets of the Law to Moses. Snyder argues that Ouwater placed the event in the choir of a Romanesque church to show that the Old Testament period is ended by the age of the Messiah. Snyder, “The Early Haarlem School of Painting: I,” 39–55.
6. “Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’ Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, ‘Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.’” (John 11: 38–39).
7. Although I have not encountered any other depictions of the Raising of Lazarus set within an architectural interior from any period or region, given the vast scope of surviving visual material, I remain cautious about stating categorically that Ouwater’s panel is entirely unique in this regard.
8. In the miniatures, the architectural elements play only ancillary roles compared to the Romanesque building in Ouwater’s panel that encompasses the entire biblical scene. The destroyed Romanesque building in The Raising of Lazarus from the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry implies the coming of Christ and the transition from Judaism to Christianity. Simon Marmion also depicted architectural detail in the background which looks like the wall of a city or the exterior of a building.
9. This does not imply that the negative depiction of the Jews is the original invention of Ouwater. In fact, the hostile depiction of Jews and negative connotations were highly prevalent in the religious images of northern Europe. However, they usually appear in the Passion cycle, especially as the tormentors of Christ. The scholarly discussion on Jews in premodern European society and their visualization is extensive. See Moshe Lazar, “The Lamb and the Scapegoat: The Dehumanization of the Jews in Medieval Propaganda Imagery,” in Anti-Semitism in Times of Crisis, eds. Sander L. Gilman and Steven T. Katz (New York University Press, 1991), 38–80; Ruth Mellinkoff, Outcasts: Signs of Otherness in Northern European Art of the Late Middle Ages, 2 vols. (University of California Press, 1993); Heinz Schreckenberg, The Jews in Christian Art: An Illustrated History, trans. John Bowden (Continuum, 1996); and Debra Higgs Strickland, Saracens, Demons, & Jews: Making Monsters in Medieval Art (Princeton University Press, 2003).
10. His frontal view strikingly contrasts with the almost horizontal body of St. Hubert in Rogier van der Weyden’s painting, an alleged source for Ouwater. Without any mediating help, Lazarus stands up. The rigid frontal body of Lazarus and vertical direction recall the body and movement of Christ in his own resurrection.
11. Henry Martin Luttikhuizen, “Late Medieval Piety and Geertgen Tot Sint Jan’s ‘Altarpiece for the Haarlem Jansheren’” (PhD diss., University of Virginia, 1997), 192.
12. As the resurrection of Lazarus prefigures that of Christ, the tomb in Ouwater’s painting also reminds the viewer of Christ’s sarcophagus. Given that the altar was commonly interpreted as Christ’s allegorical tomb since the Carolingian period, the parallel placement of the tomb is significant. Godefridus J. C. Snoek, Medieval Piety from Relics to the Eucharist: A Process of Mutual Interaction (E.J. Brill, 1995), 186–202.
13. Luttikhuizen, “Late Medieval Piety,” 192.
14. Benedicta Ward, Miracles and the Medieval Mind: Theory, Record, and Event, 1000–1215 (University of Pennsylvania Press, 1987), 15.
15. Even though he does not carry his attributes, Peter’s physiognomy is recognizable. By the fifteenth century, St. Peter was commonly portrayed with a distinctive bald patch on the crown of his head. Since the ninth century, only priests were permitted to handle the host, which led to the widespread practice of the priest placing it directly into the worshipper’s mouth. This reinforced the priest’s role as a mediator between the divine and the laity. Luttikhuizen, “Late Medieval Piety,” 196.
16. Miri Rubin, Corpus Christi: The Eucharist in Late Medieval Culture (Cambridge University Press, 1991), 1.
17. Luttikhuizen, “Late Medieval Piety,” 194–5.
18. Rubin, Corpus Christi, 64. The laity seems to have avoided communion at least in part due to concerns about placing Christ in their unworthy bodies. They worried about whether they could have sexual intercourse upon receiving the sacraments without stripping Christ of his virginity and wondered what would happen to Christ if they became ill.
19. Luttikhuizen, “Late Medieval Piety,” 198.
20. Robert W. Scribner, Religion and Culture in Germany (1400-1800) (Brill, 2001), 90. A gesture of elevation came to mark the moment of consecration to offer its meaning to the audience, the real presence of Christ. As medieval theologians agreed that the transubstantiation occurred after the priest’s consecration of the Host with the words, the Elevation after consecration signifies Christ’s corporeal presence at the Mass.
21. Rubin, Corpus Christi, 54–63.
22. Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women (University of California Press, 1987), 55. The Augustinian monk, Gottschalk Hollen, vividly attested to such enthusiasm as “they come when they hear [the] bell, entering to see elevation, and when it is over they leave running and fleeing, as if they have seen the devil.”