In Search of Johannes Vermeer's Daughter by Carlos Carnicero

The first time I encountered the work of Johannes Vermeer, I was captivated forever. His works are strange species in the world of Flemish painting, from its Golden Age in the realm of global painting. Responding to Vermeer's call, I traveled to Cambridge to see three of his works at the Fitzwilliam Museum (they are on display until January 15, 2012), included in an exhibition titled The Women of Vermeer: Secrets and Silence. The jewel of the exhibition is The Lacemaker, which has left its shelter at the Louvre after tough negotiations.

Traveling to see a painting is one of the most exciting motivations. I left early from London on Friday to avoid weekend traffic. But the anticipation for the three paintings by the artist prompted a deluge of visitors to the museum. Patience in a strict queue to enjoy in front of the works of the master of modern Dutch Baroque.

Vermeer's works have components of mystery both in his art and in his life, of which only a few details are known through his official documents: baptismal and marriage certificates and other elements from the bureaucratic footprints he left in his life.

Fifteen children must not have been easy to feed, even though his wife, Catherina Bolnes, came from a well-off Catholic family. A complex marriage between a Protestant and a Catholic in the Netherlands, ignited by wars of religion. His production, for most of his life, did not exceed two paintings a year, presumed to be commissioned by some of his patrons. Vermeer's meticulousness goes beyond the shine of his paintings and the expensive pigments he used in his works. His unusually luminous paintings and fascinating lights and shadows also showcased him as a master of light and modern geometric distribution of spaces. Minute details without overwhelm, despite the Baroque influence of his time. I believe he knew he was minimalist. And always, almost always, women.

I will make an intimate confession: I think I am in love with Girl with a Pearl Earring: the naively seductive and intelligent gaze, the brightness that contrasts with the tones of the painting, the serenity exuded by this young woman with a modern appearance. I have always thought that the model Vermeer depicted is crossing a street right now. When I approach any of the museums I can visit, I inspect carefully in case I see her stopped in front of a work.

Something inside me tells me that this young woman - I would bet her name is Elizabeth - is the painter's most independent daughter, who continues to study her father's work, visiting the museums of the world that host the 35 works attributed to the genius. I even thought she might have another hidden, which is known through documentary clues, but has never been located.

I had the chance to see some of his paintings in an exhibition held by the National Gallery in London in the summer of 2007. It gathered a magnificent collection of Dutch portrait painters. And there he was, silent and subdued, Vermeer. Always like the drop of excellence, almost eccentric due to his timeless modernity, against the works of masters like Rembrandt and Hals. I have enjoyed Vermeer's gems in the Louvre and in the Mauritshuis Museum, which is where Girl with a Pearl Earring rests.

As dreams can be directed when one has the determination to live twice each day, I have conversed with Elizabeth in different scenarios. She is still elusive with me. Not long ago, she smiled at me in Cambridge, admiring her father's three paintings, and that filled me with satisfaction: for the first time she crossed, with her gaze, the threshold of courtesy and approached a subtle demonstration of affection.

I will return to Cambridge before Johannes Vermeer's works return home to the Louvre. I will go early and position myself at an equidistant point from the three oils: The Lacemaker, Young Woman Seated at a Virginal, and a Lesson in Music.

I know Elizabeth will be there; she will appear at some point throughout the day, blending in among the visitors, dressed in a modern coat and always with a turban or scarf in her hair. Just as she appears in her father's work. And she has the same look as in the painting. I have discussed this many times with my psychoanalyst: he has never told me to stop following her; rather, he believes we may come to understand each other.