Non plures quam tres earum,
sine quibus nullus sit dies,
effugerunt admirantem visum
nec ignem, qui tenuissimas
in insula ductas Romae
in fumum cineremque vertit.
Das sagt die Stelle bei Plinius selbst:
<tabulam> spatiose nihil aliud continentem quam lineas visum effugientes.
D.h. dem Blick der Betrachter.
„Artificum artifex“ deshalb, weil dieser im Engl. eben als „artists' artist“ bezeichnete Typus eines Künstlers, dessen Werk vorwiegend unter Künstlern, weniger beim breiten Publikum Beachtung findet und Ansehen genießt, in dieser Episode auftaucht: „ ... sic eam tabulam posteris tradi omnium quidem, sed artificum praecipuo miraculo.“
Der meist in der Fassung „nulla dies sine linea“ bekannte Spruch (wobei „dies“ als Femininum die Humanisten als Urheber derselben verrät) geht nach Plinius ebenfalls auf einen der Protagonisten dieses Wettstreits, nämlich Apelles zurück:
„Apelli fuit alioqui perpetua consuetudo numquam tam occupatum diem agendi, ut non lineam ducendo exerceret artem, quod ab eo in proverbium venit.“ (Naturalis Historia 35.84)
Der Plural erschien mir im Augenblick der Niederschrift einfach besser als „tres eius sine qua“, hat, das Rätsel zu lösen, gewiss noch etwas erschwert, doch nicht unmöglich gemacht.
Das 19. Jahrhundert wollte sich übrigens mit dem ihm dürftig erscheinenden abstrakten Charakter des Werkes nicht abfinden und deutete die drei Linien als Konturen von figurativen Darstellungen.
Dabei kannte man doch die Geschichte, nach der Dürer seine Künstlerschaft durch nichts weiter als freihändiges Zeichnen eines zirkelrunden Kreises erwies.
Stimmt, sie wurde noch dazu von dem schon zu Lebzeiten deutscher Apelles genannten Dürer erzählt, ist aber wie fast alle diese Künstleranekdoten durch die Jahrhunderte wanderndes Erzählgut - Vasari, der es nach heutigem Kenntnisstand aus einer als Tagebuch des Angelo Poliziano1 bekannten Schrift aus den 70er-Jahren des 15. Jhdts. hat, über Giotto:
It is no wonder therefore that Pope Benedict sent one of his courtiers into Tuscany to see what sort of a man he was and what his works were like, for the Pope was planning to have some paintings made in S. Peter’s. This courtier, on his way to see Giotto and to find out what other masters of painting and mosaic there were in Florence, spoke with many masters in Sienna, and then, having received some drawings from them, he came to Florence. And one morning going into the workshop of Giotto, who was nat his labours, he showed him the mind of the Pope, and at last asked him to give him a little drawing to send to his Holiness. Giotto, who was a man of courteous manners,immediately took a sheet of paper, and with a pen dipped in red, fixing his arm firmly against his side to make a compass of it, with a turn of his hand he made a circle so perfect that it was a marvel to see it Having done it, he turned smiling to the courtier and said, „Here is the drawing.“. But he, thinking he was being laughed at, asked, „Am I to have no other drawing than this?“ „This is enough and too much,“ replied Giotto, „send it with the others and see if it will be understood.“ The messenger, seeing that he could get nothing else, departed ill pleased, not doubting that he had been made a fool of. However, sending the other drawings to the Pope with the names of those who had made them, he sent also Giotto’s, relating how he had made the circle without moving his arm and without compasses, which when the Pope and many of his courtiers understood, they saw that Giotto must surpass greatly all the other painters of his time. This thing being told, there arose from it a proverb which is still used about men of coarse clay, „You are rounder than the O of Giotto,“ (Tu sei piu tondo, che l’O di Giotto) which proverb is not only good because of the occasion from which it sprang, but also still more for its significance, which consists in its ambiguity, tondo, „round,“ meaning in Tuscany not only a perfect circle, but also slowness and heaviness of mind.