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 all, the father as head of the
household and a goldsmith by profession, worked 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 Nuremburg 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, by also laboring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on Sunday morning after church. Albrecht 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 success. 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 al fresco to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant
homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with
music and much 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 him to fulfill his dream.
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
bowed 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 softly said, "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 arthitis 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, Albrech 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 odds are great that you,
like most people, know only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More
than being familiar with it, you may even have a reproduction
in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed,
Albrecht painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with the
palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward.He called his
pwerful drawing simply "Hands", but the entire world 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 this touching masterpiece,
take a second look. Let it be a reminder, if you still need
one, that no one ever makes it alone.
