One day in the last year of his mother’s life, endlessly painful, Durer painted her portrait. He worked with coal, he was in a hurry. It was hard to pose for Barbara for long. He drew it across his chest. A thin sweatshirt is thrown over the thin, dried body. In the cut of the shirt sharply protruded ribs, collarbones, sinewy neck. The face is covered with leather. Forehead in deep, sharp wrinkles. The mouth is compressed. It seems that Barbara tries to restrain moaning. The corners of the lips are sadly omitted. Big, staring eyes look past and through the son who paints her.
Durer works swiftly, hurriedly
Portrait of Barbara Durer is tragic. This is a bitter and courageous story about the artist’s mother. And about the artist, whose vocation makes him be keen and truthful even when tears cover his eyes, and sorrow grips his heart.