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, supporthis 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~
Website designed, created and maintained by
Jan's Designs 1999 - 2002.
|
