Some Compositional Observations

The endlessly rewarding study of Bosch's triptych yields ever more details and intricacies

There is a half-size reproduction of the triptych hanging on my bedroom wall, and this morning, in a dozy, eyes-half-open sort of way, a series of triangular formations became apparent.

What they mean, how they are to be explicated, is for others – but for those who haven’t noticed them before (and it’s taken me slightly by surprise, after five years of looking at the painting) at least we all know they are there.

All I can say is that the the apex of the Eden panel culminates in the strange, pink, science fiction structure. Lynda Harris, by the way, noted the similarity between that structure and the towering font in the cathedral of Bosch’s home town.

And in the Hell panel, conversely, and semi-symmetrically, the apex of that pyramid of souls is the giant musical instrument underneath (and visually supporting) the notorious Treeman.

For reference, here is the triptych without the shaded areas.

There is another vector that I feel ought to be more significant in that it wants to flow into the Hell panel (but doesn’t quite).

The elements within that triangular shape are very disparate. The giant birds focused on the cosmological egg; the courtly beauty in a shell ignored by her aguardente-obsessed boyfriend; the profoundly depressed pregnant woman in the amniotic globe; one of the baleful centre-panel owls; the jay dangling a madronho berry over a crowd of male addicts . . .

What to make of that medley?

Let’s allow it to percolate in our communal mind.