Christopher Knight suggests such is the case for Albrecht Durer's "Great Piece of Turf":
The drawing's technical mastery is astounding. Watercolor can be an unforgiving medium, allowing for few mistakes. Yet even in the face of this complicated, seemingly chaotic tangle of plants, the 32-year-old artist made no evident missteps.
The viewpoint is head-on, seen from down in the weeds, where a small animal might burrow. We hug the ground. Since it's doubtful that Dürer executed it while lying in a field, he may well have dug up a clod and placed it on a pedestal or table for close observation.
The turf recedes diagonally in his composition, accentuating the spatial expanse. Watery dirt at the bottom partially reflects the stems rising above, further opening up a surprising illusion of open space.
Before now, I hadn't noticed something that suddenly seems crucial: Dürer carves a subtle envelope of interior space within the plants, framed within their natural tracery. Many stems are separated at the bottom but lean toward one another at the top. The grasses rise to a long, asymmetrical peak toward the far end and then briefly descend.
Overall, in other words, the shape suggests a Gothic cathedral. A cathedral made of weeds.
How unmetaphorical our times seem in comparison.
Kit Stolz 