Tim's Vermeer

Tim's Vermeer is a wonderfully entertaining story about personal passion and obsession and the crossroads where technology and art meet rather than stay apart from each other, a concept that some fear to be anecdotal in the analysis and appreciation for art. The film focuses on Tim Jenison, an accomplished inventor and founder of the hardware/software company NewTek, who has grown to become increasingly fascinated with the works of Dutch Golden Age painter Johannes Vermeer. Vermeer is one of the most subversive painters in history, with many art critics and scholars citing him as the greatest painter of all time. Vermeer's paintings have taken on a life of their own in recent time because of the beauty they bear in terms of lighting and clarity, in an era where cameras didn't exist. His techniques and even his personal life are still largely a mystery today, and Tim's Vermeer shows that one man may have an idea how he did it all.

Tim proposes the idea that, as unique as it would've been for Vermeer to walk up to a blank canvas and begin painting the photo-realistic paintings he became known for, some technology, even as primitive as it could be classified, had to be involved. Narrator Penn Jillette of the magician duo Penn & Teller (with Teller serving as the documentary's director) tells us of a device known as "camera obscura," which is Dutch for "dark room." The device is a box that could be of any size - from as small as a shoebox to as big as being able to house a person inside - that would have a small hole drilled in it to fit a circular lens inside. It would project whatever was outside of the box into the dark interior of the box in an upside down, backwards state; one would curve the lens to reposition and resize the subject inside the box.

Tim believes that, despite the device being common during the time, it would've been difficult for Vermeer to paint something as deep and intricate as what he did on a small-scale canvas or in a room of little light. What he manages to create is his own kind of "camera obscura," with mirrors and lenses that have the same sort of basic imperfections, shortcomings, but in addition, wondrous advances as Vermeer could've dealt with in 17th Century Dutch. Confident after speaking to art curators and professionals that share his feelings that he's on to something remarkable, Tim decides to sit down, with his creation of mirrors and lenses, and try to copy one of Vermeer's paintings. He goes as far as to renting a warehouse and constructing it like the room in Vermeer's painting, which was the north-facing room on the second story of his home. He goes back to use the 17th Century lenses of the time and even works to grinding his own paint, rather than using the paint one could easily by at a store for hobbyists. What unfolds is one of the most fascinating documentaries about art I have yet to see.

The film is a perfect showcase for somebody who is operating in a very advanced league in the computer graphics and software industry, who bears a fascination of where his medium originated. In turn, he decides to go back in time and see how the pioneers of their time operated and worked to create the hard we cherish today. It's the classic example of someone going back and learning the roots of the medium they love; a necessity, considering things are progressing at such a rapid rate these days it's difficult to keep track of things.

Second-time director Teller shows just what a grueling and meticulous process replicating an intricate painting is for Tim, who is operating by his own set of specific rules he has to follow (cannot use modern equipment of any kind, he must paint what he sees in the mirror to assure he's painting as if he was Vermeer during the time period, etc). We assume Tim must be a very relaxed and gentle man, rarely getting frazzled and taking his time with such an elaborate painting, careful not to rush or shortchange any element of the work. It becomes clear that his passion begins to rework itself and become a full-fledged obsession.

Tim's Vermeer seals the deal by adding in ideas and thoughtful discussion points about the role technology and technological advances play in art and how optical machines were used in art, despite some carrying the idea that painters painted straight from their imagination. In addition, the film works to humanize the unfairly ridiculed and shortchanged field of study that is art history, effectively giving it a much-needed leverage in terms of thought and complexity. And, in short, the film is an unexpectedly entertaining dive into the ideas of passion and obsession, art and technology, and devotion and determination.

Starring: Tim Jenison. Directed by: Teller.

As a lifelong draw-er, painter and former professional visual artist, I have absolutely no problem with the idea that Vermeer used optical tools to create his masterpieces. Invention is creation every bit as much as art (maybe more). It does not diminish Vemeer's "genius" to think of him as more 'tinkerer' than virtuoso, it just redirects it a bit. I have to admit that before watching this film I had not given much thought to the tools that Vemeer may have used, other than assuming that camera obscura was employed at some point. After considering the level of detail involved, and the lighting intricacies that he so aptly caught, it seems entirely reasonable (but not proved) to believe that other assists were involved as well.

The one thing the film overlooks, and the reason I didn't give it 10 stars, was that Vemeer no doubt possessed tremendous drawing ability and training in other traditional skills which Tim did not. Such skills would have enabled him to bridge the gap between human camera and inexplicable genius. For example, he would have inherently caught things like broken perspective early on, and he would have wielded his tools with emotion and insight which Tim did not possess. He was, at heart, a true artist, and much more than just an eccentric millionaire with an odd hobby. So the answer to which tools he used, as interesting as it is to think about, is really little more than a bit of trivia. Because it doesn't matter if it's optics or inspiration, mechanics or expression, in the end if it's interesting to look at if it moves people, then it's great art.

I found the DVD of this documentary sitting on the shelf of my local public library, just gathering dust. The brief description sounded very interesting so I brought it home and watched it. I recall maybe 30+ years ago visiting the New Orleans Museum of Modern Art, and seeing highly detailed old paintings and marveling at the artwork. Some may have been Vermeer, I don't recall.

The subject is the 17th century Dutch painter Vermeer. His works are known for their realistic, almost "photographic" qualities. But photography as we know it had not been invented yet. But the camera obscura was well know.

This caught the attention of inventor and wealthy Tim Jenison who had founded a company dealing in such things as video, broadcast graphics, special effects, and those sorts of things. He became interested in this subject and pursued it for several years. He first tried using a camera obscura directly but it didn't work well.

Not a painter himself, Jenison even went to Holland to see, study, and measure the room Vermeer had used for many of his paintings. Then back in San Antonio carefully built a replica in a warehouse. He devised a way to use optics and mirrors to allow him to see a scene and paint it on canvas.

The documentary is not too long, under 90 minutes, and is pretty fascinating. There will never be any proof, there are no old accounts or letters relating to the technique Vermeer, but they make a very strong case for Vermeer having used some sort of technique like this, with lenses and mirrors, to create his highly accurate paintings with a photographic look, not only the images but also the lighting and shadings.

It seems Vermeer was an early photographer, instead of film or digital imaging he captured detailed images with paint.

"Tim's Vermeer" (2-13 release; 80 min.) brings the story of Tim Jenison, an inventor who has amassed a small fortune over his life time and now has become fascinated (obsessed may be the better word) with the 17th century Dutch master painter Johannes Vermeer. Tim examines in particular Vermeer's painting "The Music Lesson", which has an astonishing amount of details in it. Tim eventually comes to the conclusion that Vermeer used a variety of optical devices (mirrors, camera obscura, lenses), and to test his theory, he decides to recreate "The Music Lesson" from scratch, even though he is not a skilled painter by any means. To tell you more would ruin your viewing experience, you'll just have to see for yourself how it all plays out.

Couple of comments: first, this documentary is made (and narrated) by Penn, he of Penn & Teller. Turns out that Penn and Tim have known each other for many years, and it's easy to see why this particular topic would have peaked Penn's interest enough to make it into a documentary. Second, the feeling of the documentary is pretty much one of a crime caper, in that we get to find out in detail how Tim goes about testing his various theories and his recreation of "The Music Lesson". Third, if you don't care for art, in particular painting, save yourself the trouble and catch another movie, as obviously the entire 'raison d'être' of the documentary is the making of a painting. At some point during his recreation of the painting, Tim gives an exhausted look towards the camera and sighs "it's like watching paint dry", much to the delight of the theater's crowd, which exploded in laughter. Last but not least, there is a nice soundtrack to this movie, composed by Conrad Pope and I've made a mental note to myself to check that out as well. (Bob Dylan's "When I Paint My Masterpiece" plays over the documentary's closing credits, an obvious but nice choice.)

I saw this documentary this past weekend at the Landmark E Street Cinema and the early evening screening I saw this at was absolutely PACKED, which I think is great news. Facts always trump fiction, reason why I love a good documentary more than anything. If you are interested in art and you marvel at how Vermeer might've created some of his best work, you will absolutely love this. "Tim's Vermeer" is absolutely worth checking out, be it in the theater or on DVD. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

I'm not blessed with a natural sense of curiosity, so the question of how Dutch Master, Johannes Vermeer, painted his extraordinary masterpieces has never kept me up at night. Tim's Vermeer made me realize I should be kept up at night by the mysteries of the past. I love this movie. I love that I paid close attention through it all. I love Tim Jenison's biting humor. I love the mystery surrounding his theory. I love that even back then, there were people doing things behind the scenes to make the ordinary extraordinary. And I love that we will never know if it's true.

Let me bring in my friend Heidi Sullivan to explain the meat and potatoes. Heidi and I made our yearly trek this year to the Hamptons together for the Hamptons Film Festival. She is an award-winning documentarian, and much, much, much smarter than I am. She also picks the movies we see because she is a deep-sea diver who spends time diving into things, while I am a water skier, flying over things on the surface level. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Anyway, in the interest of making sure you get the whole thing, I asked her to write the paragraph explaining Tim's theory on Vermeer's painting process. Here is it. After you read it, you will be glad I asked her. She is nothing if not articulate when it comes to complex issues. She went to Harvard. Just sayin'.

"Unlike those of his contemporaries, none of Vermeer's sketchbooks have ever been found, nor have X-rays of Vermeer paintings revealed any pencil marks underneath the paint, Intrigued by this fact, Jenison reasoned that Vermeer must have used a camera obscura, the 17th-century equivalent of a camera, to obtain his hyper-realist look (as the film points out, camera obscura literally means darkroom). To test out his theory, and limiting himself to objects and pigments that would have existed in Vermeer's day, Jenison positioned a mirror on a stick, placing the mirror at an angle to reflect the image to be painted onto his tablet. To match the color of the reflected image exactly, Jenison continually kept his eye on the edge of the mirror. Looking between the mirror and the reflected image he was painting, if the color he was using was too dark or too light, the edge of the mirror was visible to his eye. But once he mixed his colors to match exactly, the edge of the mirror seemed to disappear – his eye and the mirror functioning as a sort of photo-sensor. It was an incredibly painstaking paint-by-numbers process, but one that yielded uncanny results." Amazing right? But more amazing is Tim's exploration of this question. His journey to see if he could replicate is told with honesty, humor, and intelligence. Perhaps best of all, it approaches an extremely difficult topic with a sense of comic perspective. No one is curing cancer. He was responding to his own internal boredom with a project he admits he would have abandoned had not the cameras been rolling. There were 2,500 hours of film to edit. A feat in itself.

There is a moment on film that I couldn't leave behind. Tim's daughter spends her week home from college posing for the painting. She has to be perfectly still. A contraption is strapped to her head that makes it look like she has just broken her neck and is in traction. She has a Diet Coke on the table, and the moment when she reaches for it and takes a drink is priceless. Coke should use it in a commercial. And, Tim's comment that she couldn't wait to return to school was priceless.

I have to mention Penn Jillette, who was the 'Director' of this movie. But he really wasn't. He was the famous person whose backing allowed it to be made. Or so it seemed. I'm not a fan anyway, so having him associated with the film would have been a reason not to go, rather than a reason to pay attention.

I like stick-to-itiveness in a person. I do. I can't wait to see a Vermeer and at the Met the next time I am in New York City. I like to be smarter than I was a few hours ago. I like to know things. For those reasons alone, go see the Tim's Vermeer. Become smarter. Ask yourself if Vermeer could secretly have been a paint-by-numbers kind of guy, hiding it because he knew it was a form of cheating? If the answer is yes, what else is possible?