Two Vermeers on the Wall Challenge Your Eyes and Your Judgment

1 September 2025

The Guitar Player, c.1675-1725, from the Philadelphia Museum of Art collection. Photograph: Philadelphia Museum of Art

In a rare artistic moment that bridges centuries, two virtually identical versions of Vermeer’s The Guitar Player are sharing wall space for the first time in three hundred years at Kenwood House in London. Under the exhibition title Double Vision Vermeer at Kenwood, visitors are invited not just to admire the paintings, but to assess them, side by side, drawing their own conclusions about who painted which and what makes an original.

On one wall hangs the signed, better‑preserved Kenwood version, long accepted as the authentic Vermeer. Its brushwork is luminous and the details ringlets in the sitter’s hair, texture of the fabric, glint of light on pearl have weathered time well. Opposite it now hangs its counterpart from the Philadelphia Museum of Art, an unsigned piece once assumed to be a later copy. The woman’s hair is styled in tight braids, not ringlets, and shadows fall differently across the scene. At first glance the paintings are indistinguishable; yet upon closer inspection, the brushwork, pigment, and nuances diverge ever so subtly.

This bold exhibition marks the first time in centuries that both versions are on public display together. According to Wendy Monkhouse, senior curator of English Heritage at Kenwood, the decision was driven as much by recent scholarship as by the artist’s 350th anniversary. In 2023, a Dutch researcher reignited debate by proposing that the Philadelphia painting might not be a mere copy, but a self‑copy by Vermeer himself. That possibility is remarkable considering only 37 works are currently attributed to Vermeer.

Scientific tests on both paintings are underway in hopes of uncovering clues about materials, pigments, canvas preparation, and stylistic methods. These findings may arrive within months and could reshape how we understand Vermeer’s process and the rarity of his own duplications. Until then, visitors are encouraged to become detectives, observing and weighing visual evidence themselves.

Monkhouse describes the effect of seeing both works as a "beautiful confusion." What intrigues viewers is not only the craftsmanship, but also the uncertainty. The exhibit doesn’t claim a definitive answer. Instead, it places the mystery front and center, letting the public experience the tension between technical expertise and perceptual uncertainty.

The exhibition extends until 11 January 2026, giving art lovers plenty of time to look, compare, and consider. Whether the Philadelphia painting turns out to be a self‑copy or the work of another skilled hand, it will stand on its own as an extraordinary piece in its own right challenging assumptions about copies, forgeries, and artistic authenticity. As Monkhouse points out, if someone else painted it to this standard, we must wonder what other masterpieces they may have created.

The stakes are high, because Vermeer’s catalogue is small and precious. Every new discovery pulses with possibility. Could the Philadelphia version expand his oeuvre? Or will further study reframe it as a brilliant imitation? Either outcome deepens our understanding of Vermeer, of the rigor of attribution, and of the slipperiness between artistic replication and originality.

Above all, Double Vision Vermeer at Kenwood offers a rare invitation: to pause, to compare, to puzzle. To stand before two almost-mirror-images and trust or question one’s own vision. This is a chance to step into the curatorial process and embrace the thrill of ambiguity.