Okay, okay guys. Reality check here.
All that may be relevant, but to me, here, now its meaning is abundantly clear.
This is a self portrait of the artist suffering a mid-life crisis, surrounded by the paraphernalia of his profession that once he longed for and now seems to trammel him.
Perhaps the creative fire is gone, perhaps he's between clients like most of the architectural profession here at the moment.
The figure to the right is his youthful self, idealised in his minds eye, and he is measuring what he has achieved to date against his aspirations and success so long ago.
He came to success early - in his twenties and he is looking back on his career measuring himself now against his abilities then and finding it hard to face.
There may be a reference to his sexual performance and his girth at the moment, the one failing, the other growing.
He has descended from his manic phase in which all his tools of the trade bow to his will, to his depressive phase, where they all seem to jeer at him for having done no work, or not having the the will or physical ability to do good creative work.
The youthful figure also represents the new generation of artists following him, the people who, while he admores them greatly, he knows will supplant him one day and threaten not only his livelihood, but also challenge his place in Art History.
The sword could be the sword of righteousness, which all artists wield in the execution of their work, or it could be the sword of justice, the imagined retribution for past wrongs committed - or he could be contemplating suicide.
Durer's solid could well be a kidney stone or some gout he's suffering from, giving him gyp and causing his depressed state in the first place.
This stuff isn't brain science, y'know - can't believe some guy milked enough out of it to write two volumes.
That's a lot more than a 1,000 words, innit?