Imagine uncovering a hidden treasure within a masterpiece, one that rewrites the story of an art legend. A tiny jewelry box, tucked away in two Vermeer paintings, has just done exactly that. This unassuming object, now identified as a rare Indian-Portuguese casket, is sparking a revolution in our understanding of Johannes Vermeer’s world. But here's where it gets controversial: how did a struggling artist like Vermeer gain access to such an extravagant item? The answer, as revealed by curator Alexandra van Dongen in her upcoming book The Tangible World of Johannes Vermeer, might lie in the hands of a powerful woman—his greatest patron, Maria de Knuijt.
Van Dongen’s meticulous research focuses on the casket, prominently displayed in Mistress and Maid (Frick Collection, New York) and A Lady Writing (National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC), both painted between 1664-67. Crafted in the 17th century in Cochin (modern-day Kochi, India), this Indo-Portuguese masterpiece blends Indian and Portuguese designs, a testament to the global trade networks of the time. Such caskets, made from teak and ebony, are now incredibly rare. Van Dongen, with the help of Amsterdam dealer Dickie Zebregs, tracked down what could be the only surviving example, currently housed in the Tavora Sequiera Pinto collection in Porto and set to be displayed next year in the Museu das Convergência.
These caskets were luxury items in 17th-century Holland, far beyond Vermeer’s modest means. Yet, he depicted them with remarkable accuracy, suggesting he had a real example in his studio. And this is the part most people miss: the connection to Maria de Knuijt, a wealthy shareholder in the Dutch East India Company, who traded between the Netherlands and India. De Knuijt, believed to have purchased at least 20 of Vermeer’s 37 known paintings, was not just a patron but a potential owner of the very casket depicted in her commissioned works. Could she have requested its inclusion as a symbol of her status and global connections?
But the intrigue doesn’t stop there. Another Asian treasure graces Vermeer’s work: a 17th-century Japanese lacquer box with gold-powder decoration, seen in Woman with a Pearl Necklace (1662-64, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin). This box, likely used for jewelry or grooming accessories, would have traveled via Nagasaki, the only port where the Dutch could trade with Japan. Again, De Knuijt’s fingerprints are all over it—she was the first owner of this painting, too.
Van Dongen also sheds light on more everyday objects in Vermeer’s paintings, like the earthenware cooking pot in The Milkmaid (1658-59, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam). She identifies the pot as originating from Oosterhout, just 60 kilometers south of Delft, where Vermeer ran his family’s tavern. These pots, with their distinctive three legs (obscured by bread in the painting), were common in households, showcasing Vermeer’s ability to elevate the mundane to art.
From luxurious caskets to humble pottery, Vermeer’s works are a window into the globalized world of 17th-century Holland. But the real question lingers: did Maria de Knuijt shape Vermeer’s art more than we’ve ever imagined? Was she not just a patron, but a collaborator in his creative process? Share your thoughts below—this discovery is sure to spark debate among art enthusiasts and historians alike.
