Eleanor Smith | Newcastle University
In the early modern period, public anatomy lessons, though originally aimed at students, were both scientific endeavours and social spectacles. Often held in theatres resembling modern operating rooms, these dissections served to advance medical knowledge and satisfy public curiosity. By the 1600s, Amsterdam’s Guild of Surgeons played a pivotal role in advancing medical education and organising annual public dissections. Due to its popularity, the Guild, every five to ten years, would commission a portrait to immortalise the dissections and their lecturers.
Dr Nicholaes Tulp was the appointed lecturer of Amsterdam’s Guild of Surgeons and was widely considered one of the most brilliant anatomists and physicians of his time. In 1632, Tulp delivered the dissection of Aris t’Kindt, the event chosen to be depicted in a commemorative group portrait for the Guild of Surgeons. To paint the commemorative group portrait, the Guild decided on a young and up-and-coming artist, twenty-six-year-old Rembrandt van Rijn, who had only moved to Amsterdam a year earlier. The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicholaes Tulp has since become one of the most iconic images of medical history. While celebrated for its artistic brilliance, the painting also captures a pivotal moment in the evolution of medical education.
In the composition, the seven surgeons who were members of the Guild of Surgeons are placed in the left half of the picture. Only Dr Tulp stands on the right, separating him from the group and highlighting him as the expert in this anatomy lesson. As early as 1622, Tulp established himself as a man of influence, medically and politically. He became an alderman and magistrate, alongside his medical career. In 1632, Dr Tulp had been a lecturer at Amsterdam’s Guild of Surgeons for four years. The role of the lecturer in public dissections was to talk about the anatomy, while an assistant demonstrated this with the body. In Rembrandt’s painting, Tulp appears to be lecturing and demonstrating at the same time, which is a departure from typical dissecting practice as depicted in artworks such as The Reward of Cruelty by William Hogarth. Here, the lecturer uses a stick to point at the dissected body, with the assistants performing the dissection. Rembrandt is likely to have taken some artistic license in the portrait to illustrate Tulp’s skill as a surgeon to perform the dissection and his anatomical knowledge as the lecturer.
Each physician would have paid a large amount of money to be included in Rembrandt’s painting, and the more central figures (for example, Tulp) paid even more. In the background to the right, Hartman Hartmanszoon holds a paper listing the seven observers: Frans van Loenen, Mathijs Kalkoen, Adriaen Slabberaan and Jacobs Block, Koolvelt, de Wit and himself. Only Slabberaan and de Wit were Master of Surgery and members of the Surgeons’ Guild at that time, while the others were lesser-known surgeons. This shows the business aspect of appearing in the portrait, which has led to implications that the physicians lacked interest in anatomical knowledge. The surgeons appear distracted, as there is no point of focus in their gaze, particularly towards Tulp or the dissected body, which implies this lack of interest. Additionally, this implication has been attributed to Dr Tulp as he is using forceps to manipulate the muscles in the corpse’s arm, which distances himself from the dissection and the human body.
Despite their presence, the physicians are depicted in the shadows of the painting, and a single source of light highlights their faces and the dissected corpse. The lighting possibly reflected a realistic anatomy lesson, as it was common to perform dissections at night, so artificial light would be necessary. However, other interpretations consider this to be a moral message from Rembrandt about the treatment of the criminal corpse and the spiritual blindness of the physicians. The surgeons are presented as false healers as they are manipulating a lifeless body but not acknowledging the guilt.
While the subjects of the group portrait are in darkness, the light highlights the corpse used for the dissection demonstration. The corpse is identified as Adriaen Adrianesz, also known as Aris t’Kindt, a petty thief prone to violence who was in and out of prison for most of his life. In 1632, he was back in prison again for assault and robbery, having been apprehended while stealing a man’s cloak. It is not known who the victim of the crime was, but his drastic punishment implies it was a man of influence. He was sentenced to death by hanging and was executed 31 January 1632.
While death seems like the final stage in t’Kindt’s punishment, the dissection was an extension of it. Since 1555, the Amsterdam Guild of Surgeons had been granted the privilege to dissect executed criminals’ bodies for educational purposes, a practice rooted in Andreas Vesalius’ advocacy for human rather than animal dissection. In his groundbreaking work De Humani Corporis Fabrica, Vesalius emphasised the importance of studying human anatomy directly.
Being dissected was a second punishment for criminals like t’Kindt, as their mutilated bodies would be unable to be reunited with their souls at Resurrection. Due to this, the Church frowned upon dissecting the bodies of ordinary citizens but was more accepting if the body was that of a criminal and preferably, who was outside of the Church. This description fitted t’Kindt, and when the Guild requested a body for their dissection, t’Kindt’s body was taken straight from the gallows to the dissecting theatre.
Rembrandt’s painting illustrates another, different role the dissection played for the corpse through the use of claire-obscur (light and shadows). In the painting, the light comes from a single source, illuminating the corpse and plunging the room in relative darkness. This use of light is common in Christian imagery to illustrate themes of a divine presence, redemption, and purity. In Netherlandish tradition, light is also used to connote sanctity, so it is often interpreted that Rembrandt uses this light as a visual representation of the ‘civilising’ force of intellect. Rembrandt is using the light to prove t’Kindt atones for his sins by being used for dissections as it contributes to the development of knowledge, and therefore Kindt is used to represent good rather than evil. This then shows the redemption of t’Kindt, illustrating that the body is holy again.
Christian iconography is also used in the visual representation of the corpse itself, leading some historians to interpret that t’Kindt represents the body of Christ. Since Christ sacrificed himself for all of humanity’s sins, and t’Kindt is atoning for his sins by being dissected, a link can be drawn between them. T’Kindt is naked except for a white loincloth and is displayed on a table resembling an altar, with space for the viewer to approach. These are all conventional images of ‘deposition’ scenes in Renaissance art, as seen in Raphael’s The Deposition of Christ (1507). By visually aligning t’Kindt’s body with Christ’s, Rembrandt imbues the painting with a deeper spiritual narrative: the criminal’s body, through dissection, is redeemed and sanctified in the service of humanity’s intellectual and moral progress. This can be further illustrated by Rembrandt’s use of light to show the divinity and holiness of the body, and he uses t’Kindt’s body as proof of intelligent design, furthering the link with science and faith.
Despite this spiritual framing, Rembrandt’s portrayal of the dissection departs from the actual sequence of events. Typically, dissection began with the abdomen and chest, as internal organs decomposed quickly. However, in the painting, only the left arm has been dissected. If this painting was to replicate the conditions of a dissection, t’Kindt would have been barely recognisable as a human corpse. Due to this, the hand has a deeper meaning in the portrait, or the rest of the body will have been dissected before the arm.
Tulp demonstrates the hand’s muscle function by lifting a muscle belly using artery forceps. Upon doing this, the muscle will clench the hand, showing its function. While it has been commented that Rembrandt made some anatomical errors in his painting, in 2006, a group of Dutch colleagues dissected an upper arm to confirm or refute these claims. After this dissection, they concluded that Rembrandt in fact, had made anatomical errors, but raised the possibility that Tulp had loosened several of the structures of the forearm to free and demonstrate the muscle action.
The movement of the hand fascinated intellectuals in the early modern period to show the difference between man and animals. This muscle action was essential in craftsmanship, for grasping and manipulating objects, and therefore, became a symbol of human identity, intelligence, and creativity. It also was essential from a medical point of view, as well as an anatomical view. Understanding the mechanics of muscle movement was critical in understanding how injuries and diseases affected the muscles, how they could be treated and how amputations could be performed. Due to this, Rembrandt and Tulp are using the dissected arm to show the advancement in medical knowledge and medical education in the seventeenth century. This emphasis on the hand also reflects a broader intellectual shift from Galenic anatomy (whose anatomical understanding came from dissections of animals) to Vesalian methods. In Vesalius’ Fabrica, he is depicted demonstrating the muscles of the arm, a likely inspiration for Dr Tulp’s pose in Rembrandt’s painting. By adopting this imagery, Tulp aligns himself with Vesalius’ legacy, presenting himself as a successor advancing medical knowledge.
Understanding muscle movement also shows the complexity of the human body, and in the seventeenth century, the muscles in the forearm were considered evidence of the divinity of man and intelligent design. It is often thought that during the Renaissance, religion and medical and scientific advancement were at war with each other. While sometimes this was the case, often the scientific advancements were thought of as further evidence of divine acts or, more importantly, divine design. This was particularly evident in dissections, and it is believed Tulp taught with this idea in mind.
While Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicholaes Tulp reflects the seventeenth-century views on religion and morality in the pursuit of knowledge, it still resonates with modern viewers and serves as a reminder of the ethical and emotional dimensions of medical progress. It invites us to reflect on the lives behind science, the societal structures that shape education, and how visual culture can influence understanding across disciplines.
By contextualising the painting within its historical moment and exploring its symbolic layers, we gain a deeper appreciation of its significance—not just as a masterpiece of art history but as a cornerstone of medical and cultural heritage. Through its blend of intellect and empathy, Rembrandt’s iconic group portrait remains a powerful testament to the interconnectedness of art, science, and the human experience.
Further Reading:
Alison McNeill Kettering, Rembrandt’s Group Portraits (Uitgeverij WBooks, 2006).
Nina Siegal, The Anatomy Lesson (Anchor Books, 2014). While this is a fictional account of the creation of the painting, it is rooted in historical research.
Robert Beverly Hale, Anatomy Lessons From the Great Masters (Penguin Random House, 1977).
The National Gallery Podcast, Episode 10, August 2007 [accessed 04/01/2025]. Available online at: The National Gallery Podcast: Episode 10 | Podcasts | National Gallery, London.
Eleanor Smith is an MA in History of Medicine graduate from Newcastle University. Her dissertation studied the medical influence on the environmental design of the French Riviera’s health resorts in the late nineteenth century, which won her the Cowen Memorial Scholarship Prize. She has recently spoken at the Museum Association Conference and the Jungend Konferenz 2024 about the power of young people in museums and is currently researching youth participation and engagement in museums and how museums can develop when considering a youth voice.