Art gallery of the scenes of the birth of Jesus

Why look at these works

This gallery brings together a selection of works of art centred on the episodes of the birth of Jesus according to the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. It is not here merely to illustrate this manual, nor to gather beautiful images on a single subject. Its purpose is more serious: it shows how these scenes have been interpreted, composed and transformed over time.

Many images that are now received as natural were not always so. The representation of the Child Jesus, the posture of Mary, the presence or absence of midwives, the figure of Joseph, the identity and number of the Magi, the ox and the donkey, the colours, the gestures, the architecture, the organisation of space, the arrival of perspective or the use of light and shadow as a means of expression did not stand still. All of it took shape over the centuries.

The distinction needs to be drawn clearly. The Gospel narrative is one thing; the image that each age built from it is quite another. Tradition remains important, but it must not simply be mistaken for historical evidence. Nor is it enough to set tradition against truth as though one cancelled the other. What matters is to understand where a representation comes from: what is inherited, what is transformed and what ends up fixed in the visual memory of entire generations.

That is why this gallery should not be understood merely as a scattered collection of works kept in museums, churches, collections and other places around the world. Here the works can be contemplated, yes, but they can also be studied. Iconography and iconology both come into it, but so does something broader: the history of the visual decisions through which art has gradually given form to the Nativity cycle.

For anyone who makes figures or scenes, and also for anyone who contemplates them, collects them or wants to study one scene in particular, this is no minor matter. The point is not to copy what has already been done, but to understand where it was done from. Every artist, until well into the 20th century, studied those who came before. Not on a whim, but because no one gives form truthfully out of nothing. Whoever has seen nothing can hardly learn to look.

For centuries, artistic training rested on copying, the study of models and the assimilation of existing solutions. Not as blind repetition, but as an apprenticeship in craft, in looking and in form. Rembrandt drew Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper from an engraving, and he did not repeat it: he changed the postures of the figures. That was how one came to understand how a fold is resolved, how a space is built, what light does to a face, how a figure carries weight, moves forward or draws in, how a composition organises the scene and guides attention.

Nor did every change always come from deliberate study. Sometimes it was the contagion of a visual solution that others saw and took up. Sometimes it was the territory: Flemish and Sienese painting differ not only because of what each artist studied, but also because of the materials, the commissions and the visual culture of each place. And they can be told apart at a glance, without knowing the artist, partly by the way they paint light. Context is not a backdrop: it is part of the form.

One might think that the avant-gardes of the 20th century changed this principle. They did not. Picasso knew Velázquez, Matisse knew Chardin, Bacon knew Velázquez and Rembrandt. What changed was the intention: they no longer studied in order to carry on in the same way, but in order to strain, dismantle or break. But breaking requires knowing what is being broken. Whoever does not know the tradition cannot transform it: they simply ignore it, which is something very different. Every evolution needs a starting point. Without one, there is neither true continuity nor true rupture.

Today an image of the Nativity can be obtained in seconds, without ever having drawn or modelled. It comes from the works that already existed, and what has been repeated most weighs most in it. Whoever obtains it without knowing that tradition does not know whether they are continuing it or breaking it. They can only choose among what comes out, and choosing demands the same judgement as making.

Seeing is not the same as looking or observing, just as hearing is not the same as listening. Works of art are read, reasoned and understood in the work and in the person who made it. Whoever has not observed and learned beforehand will not be able to tell an accomplished image from one that merely looks like it.

There is material here to study for a long time. Not only works: decisions. How a Nativity is composed, where Joseph is placed, what the light does, what the architecture says, what the clothing of one of the Magi or the posture of a midwife reveals. Every visual solution is also an interpretation. And recognising it as such changes the way one represents.

That is why this gallery closes nothing: it opens a way of looking.

This gallery is a collection in progress, the result of ongoing research. New artists and works related to the scenes of the birth of Jesus are added periodically. Some are not included for lack of sufficient information; others because their images are subject to copyright and cannot be freely published. If you know of a relevant work that does not appear in the collection, you can suggest it through the contact form.