STORY OF THE PRAYING HANDS
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near
Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children.
Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table
for this mob, the father and head of the household,
a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen
hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore
he could find in the neighborhood.
Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of
Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream.
They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but
they knew full well that their father would never be
financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg
to study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded
bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They
would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the
nearby mines and, with his earnings, suppor this
brother while he attended the academy. Then, when
that brother who won the toss completed his studies,
in four years, he would support the other brother at
the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if
necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church.
Albrecht Durerwon the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the dangerous mines and,
for the next four years, financed his brother, whose
work at the academy was almost an immediate
sensation.
Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were
far better than those of most of his professors, and
by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn
considerable fees for his commissioned
works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the
Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to
celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a
long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and
laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at
the head of the table to drink a toast
to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice
that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition.
His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed
brother of mine, now it is your turn.
Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and
I will take care of you."
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end
of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down
his pale face,shaking his lowered head from side to
side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No
...no ...no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his
cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces
he loved,
and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek,
he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to
Nuremberg.
It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years
in the
mines have done to my hands! The bones in every
finger have
been smashed at least once, and lately I have been
suffering
from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I
cannot even
hold a glass to return your toast, much less make
delicate lines
on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No,
brother ...
for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht
Durer's
hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point
sketches,
watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper
engravings hang in
every great museum in the world, but the odds are
great that you,
like most people, are familiar with only one of
Albrecht Durer's works.
More than merely
being familiar with it, you very well may
have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all
that he had sacrificed,
Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's
abused hands with palms together and thin fingers
stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing
simply "Hands," but the entire world almost
immediately opened their hearts to his great
masterpiece and renamed
his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of that touching
creation,
take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you
still need one,
that no one - no one - - ever makes it
alone!
~Source Unknown~
BACK
This page
hosted by 
Get your own Free Home
Page