THE STORY OF THE "PRAYING HANDS"
No-one knows if this story is true but it could well be!!
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 this mob, the father and head of the household,
a goldsmith by profession, worked almost 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 Nuremberg 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, also by laboring in the mines. They tossed a coin on a
Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer 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 sensation. 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 on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant
homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and
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 Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. 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 lowered 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 said softly, "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 arthritis
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."
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed,
Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with
palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his
powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost
immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed
his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht 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 the odds are great that you, like most people, are
familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely
being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging
in your home, school or office.
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second
look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no
one - ever makes it alone!
Author Unknown.
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