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, support his 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 Durer won 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
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! A true story!
MY SECRET POWER
WHY and HOW I was BORN
The Praying Hands