III · THE WORK · ART HISTORY
Ghent Altarpiece
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Finished in 1432 by two brothers whose separate hands still cannot be told apart, the altarpiece shows one thing closed and another entirely when its wings swing open.
At a glance
- Artists
- Hubert van Eyck; Jan van Eyck
- Date
- Completed 1432
- Medium
- Oil paint on oak panel
- Type
- Polyptych; winged altarpiece
- Movement
- Early Netherlandish painting
- Home
- St Bavo's Cathedral, Ghent
Look closer
Two altarpieces in one
The work is a winged polyptych: double sets of foldable shutters carry paintings on both faces. Closed, the outer panels present an Annunciation in cool grisaille, with donor portraits and stone-like figures of the two St Johns. Open, the inner faces unfold a continuous programme across two registers — heaven above, the earth of the Lamb below. What you see is not a single image but a machine that changes subject when the wings move.
The upper register
Across the top, when open, sits a Deësis group: a central figure identified either as Christ the King or God the Father, flanked by the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist. Beside them are angels with music, and at the outer edges Adam and Eve, painted as full-length nudes rather than as distant emblems. The register reads as heavenly redemption, staged with a particularity of flesh, fabric and light that was new in northern painting.
The meadow of the Lamb
The central lower panel gathers saints, sinners, clergy and soldiers around an altar on which the Lamb of God stands. A dove of the Holy Spirit hovers above. The groups arrive from several directions across a detailed landscape; the scene is not a single frozen tableau but a slow assembly of types and ranks, all oriented toward the same small white figure.
The story
The Ghent Altarpiece — also known as the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb — is a large polyptych of oil paint on oak, completed in 1432 and now again in St Bavo's Cathedral in Ghent. It belongs to Early Netherlandish painting and to the genre of religious art, yet its form is more complicated than a single panel can be. It is a winged altarpiece: two vertical registers, each fitted with double sets of foldable wings that carry paintings on both their inner and outer faces. Closed, it is one programme. Open, it is another.
When the wings are shut, the outer faces show an Annunciation in the upper row, with prophets and sibyls above, and below them donor portraits of the merchant and Ghent mayor Jodocus Vijd (also called Joost Vijdt) and his wife Lysbette Borluut, together with sculptural grisaille figures of St John the Baptist and St John the Evangelist. The greys are deliberate. They mimic stone carving so that the closed altarpiece reads partly as architecture and partly as painting — a quiet threshold rather than a full vision.
When the wings open, the inner faces present the full scheme. The upper register is devoted to heavenly redemption. At its centre is a Deësis arrangement: a monumental enthroned figure, read by some as Christ the King and by others as God the Father, with the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist to either side. Further out are choirs of angels, some playing music. At the far edges stand Adam and Eve. The lower register is dominated by its central panel, the Adoration of the Lamb: a meadow crowded with saints, sinners, clergy and soldiers who have come to attend the Lamb of God upon an altar, under the dove of the Holy Spirit. The side panels of this lower tier continue the gathering with further groups moving through landscape.
The commission came from Vijd and Borluut as part of a larger project for their chapel in what is now St Bavo's Cathedral. Installation was officially celebrated on 6 May 1432. A now-lost inscription on the frame stated that Hubert van Eyck, described as greater than anyone, began the work, and that Jan van Eyck, calling himself second in the art, completed it in 1432. Art historians generally agree that Hubert designed the overall structure in or before the mid-1420s, and that Jan painted the panels; yet generations of scholars have failed to establish a convincing separation of hands. It may be that Jan finished surfaces Hubert had already begun. The uncertainty is not a minor footnote. It is built into how the object is signed and how it has been studied.
The original ornate carved outer frame and surround — which may have harmonised with the painted tracery and which may even have included mechanisms for moving the shutters — was destroyed during the Reformation. The painted panels themselves have since passed through other collections and holding points, including the Solly Collection, the Bode Museum and the Munich Central Collecting Point, before returning to the cathedral. What remains in Ghent is therefore the painted polyptych without the full architectural body it once had. Even so, the logic of opening and closing still structures every encounter with it: the work is designed to withhold and then release its principal vision.
Why it mattered then
In the early fifteenth century the altarpiece sat at a hinge between International Gothic ideals and a newer northern insistence on observed surfaces — skin, cloth, metal, foliage, the fall of light across a meadow. It drew on Byzantine and Romanesque traditions as well as the International Gothic, yet it pushed idealisation toward exacting attention to the visible world and to human presence. For the donors, Vijd and Borluut, the polyptych was also a public act of piety and civic standing inside their chapel: their portraits on the exterior fixed their names and faces to the threshold of the sacred programme within. The lost inscription, ranking Hubert above all and Jan as second, framed the making itself as a claim about skill and succession. Completed and installed in 1432, the work offered a full liturgical machine — closed for ordinary days, open for feast — in which theology was staged as something you walked up to and physically unfolded.
Why it matters now
The altarpiece still matters because it refuses to be a single picture. Its meaning is bound to the act of opening and closing, to the difference between grisaille threshold and full-colour vision, and to a programme that places Adam and Eve, music-making angels, donors, soldiers and the Lamb inside one coordinated structure. It remains a central object for anyone thinking about how Early Netherlandish painting changed what oil on panel could do with light and substance. It also remains unfinished business as scholarship: the division of labour between Hubert and Jan has never been settled, and that honest gap keeps the object from hardening into a simple authorial story. Its later movements through collections and wartime holding points, and its return to St Bavo's, add a further layer — a reminder that even a work designed for one chapel has had to survive as a portable, vulnerable set of oak panels.
The surprising detail
A lost inscription on the frame did not simply name the artists. It ranked them. Hubert was called greater than anyone found; Jan called himself second in the art, and the text stated that he finished in 1432 what Hubert had begun. The wording survives in record even though the frame itself does not. The original carved surround was destroyed during the Reformation, taking with it whatever painted tracery, ornament, and possible mechanisms for moving the shutters once completed the object. What viewers meet now is the polyptych without its full outer body — a brilliant interior whose original architectural voice is gone.
What is disputed
The division of hands between Hubert and Jan van Eyck is genuinely unresolved. Scholars generally hold that Hubert designed the structure and that Jan painted the panels, possibly finishing work Hubert had begun, but no convincing separation of specific passages has been established. The central upper figure is also read variously as Christ the King or God the Father. The original frame is lost; descriptions of its ornament and any mechanisms are therefore incomplete.
Remember this
The Ghent Altarpiece is two programmes in one object: closed, a grisaille threshold with donors; open, heaven above and the Adoration of the Lamb below.
Test yourself
Why does it matter that this work is a winged polyptych rather than a single fixed panel?
Because its subject is not constant. Closed, the outer faces offer an Annunciation, grisaille saints, and the donor portraits — a restrained threshold. Open, the inner faces present the Deësis and heavenly company above and the Adoration of the Lamb below. The theology is staged as a change of state: ordinary looking gives way to full vision only when the wings are moved. That physical operation is part of the meaning, not merely a frame around it.
Go deeper
Image: Jan van Eyck / Presumably Hubert van Eyck, Public domain. Licence: Public domain. Source.
