art History

14th Century article

A CLOSER LOOK AT CONTEXT—THE BLACK PLAGUE

Let’s dive a little deeper into a few of the topics and themes that were discussed in the Getty’s digital exhibit.  First, I want you to develop a deeper understanding of the impact the Black Plague had on the city of Florence. A key resource that art historians reference on the Black Plague is Boccaccio’s book titled Decameron.  The Decameron (Ten days) is a story written in the 1300s!  In general, it tells a story of those trying to survive the Black Plague running rampant throughout Florence.  The book begins by detailing the terrors of the plague and the challenges that it presented for the day to day operations within the city.  The below excerpt is from his “First Day” of ten days. When reading this excerpt, think about the ways in which people in Florence responded to the Black Plague and what impacts it had on the city.  The below excerpt was taken from: Giovanni Boccaccio, Decameron, tr. John Payne, rev. by Charles S. Singleton, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1984).

The years of the fruitful Incarnation of the Son of God had attained to the number of one thousand three hundred and forty-eight, when into the notable city of Florence, fair over every other of Italy, there came the death-dealing pestilence, through the operation of the heavenly bodies or of our own iniquitous doings, being sent down upon mankind for our correction by the just wrath of God. In men and women alike there appeared, at the beginning of the malady, certain swellings, either on the groin or under the armpits, whereof some waxed to the bigness of a common apple, others to the size of an egg, and these the vulgar named plague-boils. From these two parts the aforesaid death-bearing plague-boils proceeded, in brief space, to appear and come indifferently in every part of the body; wherefrom, after awhile, the fashion of the contagion began to change into black or livid blotches.

Well-nigh all died within the third day from the appearance of the aforesaid signs, this one sooner and that one later, and for the most part without fever or other complication. The mere touching of the clothes or of whatsoever other thing had been touched or used by the sick appeared of itself to communicate the malady to the toucher.

Well-nigh all tended to a very barbarous conclusion, namely, to shun and flee from the sick and all that pertained to them. Some there were who conceived that to live moderately and keep oneself from all excess was the best defense; they lived removed from every other, taking refuge and shutting themselves up in those houses where none were sick and where living was best. Others, inclining to the contrary opinion, maintained that to carouse and make merry and go about singing and frolicking and satisfy the appetite in everything possible and laugh and scoff at whatsoever befell was a very certain remedy for such an ill.

The common people (and also, in great part, the middle class) fell sick by the thousand daily and being altogether untended and unsuccored, died well-nigh all without recourse. Many breathed their last in the open street, by day and by night, while many others, though they died in their homes, made it known to the neighbors that they were dead rather by the stench of their rotting bodies than otherwise; and of these and others who died all about, the whole city was full. The consecrated ground not sufficing for the burial of the vast multitude of corpses there were made throughout the churchyards, vast trenches, in which those who came were laid by the hundred, being heaped up therein by layers, as goods are stowed aboard ship.

So great was the cruelty of heaven that, between March and the following July, it is believed for certain that upward of a hundred thousand human beings perished within the walls of the city of Florence. Alas, how many great palaces, how many goodly houses, how many noble mansions, once full of families, of lords and of ladies, remained empty even to the meanest servant! How many memorable families, how many ample heritages, how many famous fortunes were seen to remain without lawful heir! How many valiant men, how many fair ladies, how many sprightly youths, breakfasted in the morning with their kinsfolk, comrades and friends and that same night supped with their ancestors in the other world!

 

A CLOSER LOOK AT CONTEXT—CIVIC RESPONSIBILITY

Next, we should consider the unique civic pride that emerges among city-states in Italy at this time.  Florence was a city state, ruled by a representative body of guild members, while the city Siena (another prominent city state) was ruled by a representative body of nobility.  These representative bodies are generally referred to as a republic.  

· What is a Republic?

In this context, a republic was based on a group of peoples ruling on behalf of the city—the terms of service were only two months in duration.  A primary benefit of a republic was that a group of peoples dedicated to the city made policy decisions thought to be in the best interest of their economy.  This empowered a sense of civic responsibility that was not typically present in countries ruled by a monarchy—whose power typically resided in his (less often her) family lineage and whose decisions were often swayed by personal gain rather than the good of the peoples.

· What is a guild?

Guilds were secular (non-religious) organizations that regulated the majority of the arts and trades in Florence and other Italian city-states from the twelfth into the sixteenth century.  In Florence, there were seven major guilds and five middle guilds. A significant responsibility of a guild was to oversee rigor and quality control. In Florence, Masters within a guild were selected to serve as part of the Signoria (the Republic/system of government noted above.    

There is no better work of art than Ambrogio Lorenzetti’s painting (a buon fresco) Effects of Good and Bad Government to explore the ideals behind civic responsibility in Italy in the 1300s.  It is also a quality example of the rise of naturalism highlighted in the Getty exhibit previously visited.  Let’s begin by watching the below youtube video on Lorenzetti’s Effects of Good and Bad Governmen

When attempting to answer the above questions, it is useful to read and analyze the inscriptions that accompany Lorenzetti’s buon fresco paintings.  Below is a translation and transcription of the Inscriptions in the Palazzo Pubblico Siena that accompany the Effects of Good and Bad Government—Ambrogio Lorenzetti.  I have pulled them from Diana Norman’s book titled Siena, Florence, and Padua: Case studies.  

A.    Good Government North Wall—The text within the lower border

This holy Virtue [Justice], where she rules, induces to unity the many souls [of citizens], and the, gathered together for such a purpose, make the Common Good ‘ben comune’ their Lord; and he, in order to govern his state, chooses never to turn his eyes from the resplendent faces of the Virtues who sit around him.  Therefore to him in triumph are offered taxes, tributes and lordship of towns; therefore, without war, every civic result duly follows – useful, necessary, and pleasurable.

B.    The Good City East Wall

· The text along the lower edge of the painting

Turn your eyes to behold her, you who are governing, who is portrayed here [Justice], crowned on account of her excellence, who always renders to everyone his due.  Look how many goods derive from her and how sweet and peaceful is that life of the city where is preserved this virtue who outshines any other. She guards and defends those who honor her, and nourishes and feeds them.  From her light is born [both] requiting those who do good and giving due punishment to the wicked.

· Text held by Security

Without fear every man may travel freely and each may till and sow, so long as this commune shall maintain this lady [Justice] sovereign, for she has stripped the wicked of all power.

C.     Bad Government West Wall

· Text within the lower border

There, where Justice is bound, no one is ever in accord for the Common Good [ben comun], nor pulls the cord straight; therefore, it is fitting that Tyranny prevails.  She, in order to carry our her iniquity, neither wills nor acts in disaccord with the filthy nature of the Vices, who are shown here conjoined with her. She banishes those who are ready to do good and calls around herself every evil schemer.  She always protects the assailant, the robber, and those who hate peace, so that her land lies waste.

· The text (partly obliterated) along the lower edge of the painting

…and for the reason that, where there is Tyranny, there are great fear, wars, robberies, treacheries and frauds, she must be brought down.  And let the mind and understanding be intent on keeping each [citizen] always subject to Justice, in order to escape such dark injuries, by overthrowing all tyrants.  And whoever wishes to disturb her [Justice], let him be for hjs unworthiness banished and shunned together with all his followers, whoever they may be: thus Justice will be fortified to the advantage of your peace.

D.    The text held by Fear

· Because each seeks only his own good, in this city Justice is subjected to Tyranny; wherefore, along this road nobody passes without fearing for his life, since there are robberies outside and inside the city gates.

 

MATERIALS AND TECHNIQUES—TEMPERA PAINTING and FRESCO PAINTING

We’ve been learning that art from this era is more “natural”, or, is interested in more accurately recording the natural world in which these artists lived.  How difficult is it to render figures, landscapes, architecture, and emotions in paint? We’ve learned a little bit about materials and technique in this era when we “visited” the Getty digital exhibit.  However, there is a lot more to know about these materials and techniques. First, let’s explore the basics of what is needed to make paint and, then, define the three most prominent kinds of painting that were made in the 1300s (tempera, buon fresco paintings, and fresco secco paintings).  

· Paint: All paint is made up of powdered pigment (ground up minerals/vegetables) and some kind of  binder to stick it together and to a surface like a canvas. All paint also needs to have a solvent, or, something that dilutes the paint.  

· Tempera paint: Generally, tempera is made by combining powdered pigment with the goo inside an egg yolk (not including the membrane) as the binder.  The solvent for tempera is water.

· Fresco: There are two kinds of fresco painting 1) Buon Fresco and 2) Fresco Secco.

· Buon Fresco:  This is literally translated as a “true” fresco.  A “true” fresco is made by combining powdered pigment with water and applying it to the binder, which is freshly laid, wet, plaster.

· Fresco Secco:  This is literally translates as a “dry” fresco. A “dry” fresco is made by combining powdered pigment with any number of binder options (in the 1300s it was usually tempera paint) on to a dry plaster wall.

When studying the history of painting, it is useful to consult one of the first “technique” guides ever written: Cennino Cennini’s Il Libro dell’ Arte, penned in the early 1400s.  This book is fascinating, not only for it’s content but it’s tone and historical relevance. In the below excerpt, Cennini discusses all three types of paint/painting techniques delineated above.  He weaves them together the way that painters clearly did in his era. This helps us to understand that, at this time, painters rarely worked with one kind of paint and that most works were a hybrid of all three

I have pulled the below excerpt from   Il Libro dell' Arte  - Cennino D' Andrea Cennini. The Craftsman's Handbook. The Italian "Il Libro dell' Arte." Translated by Daniel V. Thompson, Jr. New York: Dover Publications, Inc. 1933, by Yale University Press.  Click on the below links if you want to access the footnotes referenced in the document.

Notes 1-50     Notes 51-124     Notes 125-162     Notes 163-283

Third Section

The Method and System for Working on a Wall, That is, in Fresco; and On Painting and Doing Flesh for a Youthful Face.

Chapter LXVII

In the name of the Most Holy Trinity I wish to start you on painting. Begin, in the first place, with working on a wall; and for that I will teach you, step by step, the method which you should follow.

When you want to work on a wall, which is the most agreeable and impressive kind of work, first of all get some lime[65] and some sand, each of them well sifted. And if the lime is very fat and fresh it calls for two parts sand, the third part lime. And wet them up well with water; and wet up enough to last you for two or three weeks. And let it stand for a day or so, until the heat goes out of it: for when it is so hot, the plaster which you put on cracks afterward. When you are ready to plaster, first sweep the wall well, and wet it down thoroughly, for you cannot get it too wet. And take your lime mortar, well worked over, a trowelful at a time; and plaster once or twice, to begin with, to get the plaster flat on the wall. Then, when you want to work, remember first to make this plaster quite uneven and fairly rough. Then when the plaster is dry, take the charcoal, and draw and [p. 42] compose according to the scene or figures which you have to do; and take all your measurements carefully, snapping lines first, getting the centers of the spaces.[66] Then snap some, and take the levels from them. And this line which you snap through the center to get the level must have a plumb bob at the foot. And then put one point of the big compasses on this line,[67] and give the compasses a half turn on the under side. Then put the point of the compasses on the middle intersection of one line with the other,[68] and swing the other semicircle on the upper side. And you will find that you make a little slanted cross on the right side, formed by the intersection of the lines. From the left side apply the line to be snapped, in such a way that it lies right over both the little crosses; and you will find that your line is horizontal by a level.[69] Then compose the scenes or figures with charcoal, as I have described. And always keep your areas in scale, and regular.[70] Then take a small, pointed bristle brush, and a little ocher without tempera, as thin as water; and proceed to copy and draw in your figures [p. 43], shading as you did with washes when you were learning to draw. Then take a bunch of feathers, and sweep the drawing free of the charcoal.

Then take a little sinoper without tempera, and with a fine pointed brush proceed to mark out noses, eyes, the hair, and all the accents and outlines of the figures; and see to it that these figures are properly adjusted in all their dimensions, for these[71] give you a chance to know and allow for[72] the figures which you have to paint. Then start making your ornaments, or whatever you want to do, around the outside; and when you are ready, take some of the aforesaid lime mortar, well worked over with spade and trowel, successively, so that it seems like an ointment. Then consider in your own mind how much work you can do in a day; for whatever you plaster you ought to finish up. It is true that sometimes in winter, in damp weather, working on a stone wall, the plaster will occasionally keep fresh until the next day; but do not delay if you can help it, because working on the fresh plaster,[73] that is, that day's, is the strongest tempera and the best and most delightful kind of work. So then, plaster a section with plaster, fairly thin, but not excessively, and quite even; first wetting down the old plaster. Then take your large bristle brush in your hand; dip it in clear water; beat it, and sprinkle over your plaster. And with a little block the size of the palm of your hand, proceed to rub with a circular motion over the surface of the well-moistened plaster, so that the little block may succeed in removing mortar wherever there is too much, and supplying it wherever there is not enough, and in evening up your plaster nicely. Then wet the plaster with that brush, if you need to; and rub over the plaster with the point of your trowel, very straight and clean. Then snap out lines in the same system and dimensions which you adopted previously on the plaster underneath.

And let us suppose that in a day you have just one head to do, a [p. 44] youthful saint's, like Our Most Holy Lady's. When you have got the mortar of your plaster all smoothed down, take a little dish, a glazed one, for all your dishes should be glazed and tapered like a goblet of drinking glass, and they should have a good heavy base at the foot, to keep them steady so as not to spill the colors; take as much as a bean of well-ground ocher, the dark kind, for there are two kinds of ocher, light and dark: and if you have none of the dark, take some of the light. Put it into your little dish; take a little black, the size of a lentil; mix it with this ocher; take a little lime white, as much as a third of a bean; take as much light cinabrese[74] as the tip of a penknife will hold; mix it up with the aforesaid colors all together in order,[75] and get this color dripping wet with clear water, without any tempera. Make a fine pointed brush out of flexible, thin bristles, to fit into the quill of a goose feather; and with this brush indicate the face which you wish to do, remembering to divide the face into three parts, that is, the forehead, the nose, and the chin counting the mouth. And with your brush almost dry, gradually apply this color, known in Florence as verdaccio, and in Siena, as bazzeo. When you have got the shape of the face drawn in, and if it seems not to have come out the way you want it, in its proportions or in any other respect, you can undo it and repair it by rubbing over the plaster with the big bristle brush dipped in water.

Then take a little terre-verte in another dish, well tinned out; and with a bristle brush, half squeezed out between the thumb and forefinger of your left hand, start shading under the chin, and mostly on the side where the face is to be darkest; and go on by shaping up the under side of the mouth; and the sides of the mouth; under the nose, and on the side under the eyebrows, especially in toward the nose; a little in the end of the eye toward the ear; and in this way you pick out the whole of the face and the hands, wherever flesh color is to come.

Then take a pointed minever brush, and crisp up neatly all the outlines, nose, eyes, lips, and ears, with this verdaccio.

There are some masters who, at this point, when the face is in this [p. 45] stage, take a little lime white, thinned with water; and very systematically pick out the prominences and reliefs of the countenance; then they put a little pink on the lips, and some "little apples" on the cheeks. Next they go over it with a little wash of thin flesh color; and it is all painted, except for touching in the reliefs afterward with a little white. It is a good system.

Some[76] begin by laying in the face with flesh color; then they shape it up with a little verdaccio and flesh color, touching it in with some high lights; and it is finished. This is a method of those who know little about the profession.

But you follow this method in everything which I shall teach you about painting: for Giotto, the great master, followed it. He had Taddeo Gaddi of Florence as his pupil for twenty-four years; and he was his godson. Taddeo had Agnolo, his son. Agnolo had me for twelve years; and so he started me on this method, by means of which Agnolo painted much more handsomely and freshly than Taddeo, his father, did.

First take a little dish; put a little lime white into it, a little bit will do, and a little light cinabrese, about equal parts. Temper them quite thin with clear water. With the aforesaid bristle brush, soft, and well squeezed with your fingers, go over the face, when you have got it indicated with terre-verte; and with this pink touch in the lips, and the "apples" of the cheeks. My master used to put these "apples" more toward the ear than toward the nose, because they help to give relief to the face. And soften these "apples" at the edges. Then take three little dishes, which you divide into three sections of flesh color; have the darkest half again as light as the pink color, and the other two, each one degree lighter. now take the little dish of the lightest one; and with a very soft, rather blunt, bristle brush take some of this flesh color, squeezing the brush with your fingers; and shape up all the reliefs of this face. Then take the little dish of the intermediate flesh color, and proceed to pick out all the half tones of the face, and of the hands and feet, and of the body when you are doing a nude. Then take the dish of the third flesh color, and start into the accents of the shadows, always contriving that, in the accents, the terre-verte [p. 46] may not fail to tell. And go on blending one flesh color into another in this way many times, until it is well laid in, as nature promises. And take great care, if you want your work to come out very fresh; contrive not to let your brush leave its course with any given flesh color, except to blend one delicately with another, with skilful handling. But if you attend to working and getting your hand in practice, it will be clearer to you than seeing it in writing. When you have applied your flesh colors, make another much lighter one, almost white; and go over the eyebrows with it, over the relief of the nose, over the top of the chin and of the eyelid. Then take a sharp minever brush; and do the whites of the eyes with pure white, and the tip of the nose, and a tiny bit on the side of the mouth; and touch in all such slight reliefs. Then take a little black in another little dish, and with the same brush mark out the outline of the eyes over the pupils of the eyes; and do the nostrils in the nose, and the openings in the ears. Then take a little dark sinoper in a little dish; mark out under the eyes, and around the nose, the eyebrows, the mouth; and do a little shading under the upper lip, for that wants to come out a little bit darker than the under lip. Before you mark out the outlines in this way, take this brush; touch up the hair with verdaccio; then with this brush shape up this hair with white. Then take a wash of light ocher; and with a blunt bristle brush work back over this hair as if you were doing flesh. Then with the same brush shape up the accents with some dark ocher. Then with a sharper little minever brush and light ocher and lime white shape up the reliefs of the hair. Then, by marking out with sinoper, shape up the outlines and the accents of the hair as you did the face as a awhile. And let this suffice you for a youthful face.

_________________________

The Method for Painting an Aged Face in Fresco.

Chapter LXVIII

When you want to do the head of an old man, you should follow the same system as for the youthful one; except that your verdaccio wants to be a little darker, and the flesh colors, too; adopting the system and practice which you did for the youthful one; and the hands [p. 47] and feet and the body in the same way. Now, assuming that your old man's hair and beard are hoary, when you have got it shaped up with verdaccio and white with your sharp minever brush, take some lime white mixed with a small amount of black in a little dish, liquid, and with a blunt and soft bristle brush, well squeezed out, lay in the beards and hairs; and then make some of this mixture a little bit darker, and shape up the darks. Then take a small sharp, minever brush, and stripe delicately over the reliefs of these hairs and beards. And you may do minever with this same color.

The Method for Painting Various Kinds of Beards and Hair in Fresco.

Chapter LXVIIII

Whenever you wish to make different hair and beards, ruddy, or russet, or black, or any kind you please, do them with verdaccio still, or shaped up with white,[77] and then lay them in the regular way as described above. Just consider what color you want them; and thus the experience of seeing some of them finished will teach you this.

The Proportions Which a Perfectly Formed ManÍs Body Should Possess.

Chapter LXX

Take note that, before going any farther, I will give you the exact proportions of a man. Those of a woman I will disregard, for she does not have any set proportion. First, as I have said above, the face is divided into three parts, namely: the forehead, one: the nose, another; and from the nose to the chin, another. From the side of the nose through the whole length of the eye, one of these measures. From the end of the eye up to the ear, one of these measures. From one ear to the other, a face lengthwise, one face. From the chin under the jaw to the base of the throat, one of the three measures. The throat, one measure long. From the pit of the throat to the top of the shoulder, [p. 48] one face; and so for the other shoulder. From the shoulder to the elbow, one face. From the elbow to the joint of the hand, one face and one of the three measures. The whole hand, lengthwise, one face. From the pit of the throat to that of the chest, or stomach, one face. From the stomach to the navel, one face. From the navel to the thigh joint, one face. From the thigh to the knee, two faces. From the knee to the heel of the leg, two faces. From the heel to the sole of the foot, one of the three measures. The foot, one face long.

A man is as long as his arms crosswise. The arms, including the hands, reach to the middle of the thigh. The whole man is eight faces and two of the three measures in length. A man has one breast rib less than a woman, on the left side. A man has . . .[78] bones in all. The handsome man must be swarthy, and the woman fair, etc. I will not tell you about the irrational animals, because you will never discover any system of proportion in them. Copy them and draw as much as you can from nature, and you will achieve a good style in this respect.

The Way to Paint a Drapery in Fresco

Chapter LXXI

Now let us get right back to our fresco-painting. And, on the wall,[79] if you wish to paint a drapery, any color you please, you should first draw it carefully with your verdaccio; and do not have your drawing show too much, but moderately. Then, whether you want a white drapery or a red one, or yellow, or green, or whatever you want, get three little dishes. Take one of them, and put into it whatever color you choose, we will say red: take some cinabrese and a little lime white; and let this be one color, well diluted with water. Make one of the other two colors light, putting a great deal of lime white into it. Now take some out of the first dish, and some of this light, and make an intermediate color; and you will have three of them. Now take some of the first one, that is, the dark one; and with a rather large and fairly pointed bristle brush go over the folds of your figure in the darkest areas; and do not go past the middle of the thickness of your figure. Then take the intermediate color; lay it in from one dark strip [p. 49] to the next one, and work them in together, and blend your folds into the accents of the darks. Then, just using these intermediate colors, shape up the dark parts where that relief of the figure is to come, but always following out the shape of the nude. Then take the third, lightest color, and just exactly as you have shaped up and laid in the course of the folds in the dark, so you do now in the relief, adjusting the folds ably, with good draftsmanship and judgment. When you have laid in two or three times with each color, never abandoning the sequence of the colors by yielding or invading the location of one color for another, except where they come into conjunction, blend them and work them well in together. Then in another dish take still another color, lighter than the lightest of these three; and shape up the tops of the folds, and put on lights. Then take some pure white in another dish, and shape up definitively all the areas of relief. Then go over the dark parts, and around some of the outlines, with straight cinabrese; and you will have your drapery, systematically carried out. But you will learn far better by seeing it done than by reading. When you have finished your figure or scene, let it dry until the mortar and the colors have dried out well all over. And if you still have any drapery to do in secco, you will follow this method.

The Way to Paint on a Wall in Secco; and The Temperas for It

Chapter LXXII

You may use any of those colors which you used in fresco, in secco as well; but there are colors which cannot be used in fresco, such as orpiment, vermilion, azurite, red lead, white lead, verdigris, and lac. Those which can be used in fresco are giallorino, lime white, black, ocher, cinabrese, sinoper, terre-verte, hematite. The ones which are used in fresco call for lime white as an adjunct, to make them lighter; and the greens, when you want to keep them as greens, call for giallorino: when you want to leave them as sage greens, use white. Those colors which cannot be used in fresco require white lead and giallorino as adjuncts, to make them lighter, and sometimes orpiment: but orpiment very seldom. Now if you are to execute a blue with lights on it,[80] [p. 50] follow that three-dish system which I taught you for the flesh color and the cinabrese; and the system will be the same for this, except that where you took lime white before, you now take white lead; and you temper everything. There are two good kinds of tempera for you, one better than the other. The first tempera: take the white and yolk of the egg: put in a few clippings of fig shoots; and beat it up well. Then put some of this tempera into the little dishes, a moderate amount, neither too much nor not enough, just about as a wine might be half diluted with water. And then use your colors, white or green or red, just as I showed you for fresco; and carry out your draperies the same way you did in fresco, handling it with restraint, allowing time for it to dry out. Know that if you put in too much tempera the color will soon crack and peel away from the wall. Be reasonable and judicious. I advise you first, before you begin to paint, if you want to make a drapery of lac or any other color, before you do anything else, take a well-washed sponge; and have a yolk and white of egg together, and put them into two porringerfuls of clear water, mixing it up thoroughly; and go evenly over the whole work which you have to paint in secco and also to embellish with gold, with your sponge half squeezed out in this tempera; and then proceed to paint freely, as you please. The second tempera is simply yolk of egg; and know that this tempera is a universal one, for wall, for panels, or for iron; and you cannot use too much, but be reasonable, and choose a middle course. Before you go any further with this tempera, I want you to carry out a drapery in secco. Just as I had you do with cinabrese in fresco, I now want you to do with ultramarine. Take three dishes as usual; put the two parts of blue and the third of white lead into the first one; and into the third dish, the two parts white lead and the third blue; and mix and temper them as I have told you. Then take the empty dish, that is, the second; take as much out of one dish as out of the other, and make up a mixture, stirring it thoroughly.[81] With a bristle brush, or a firm, blunt minever one, and the first color[82] that is, the darkest, go over the accents, shaping up the darkest folds. Then take the medium color, and lay in some of those dark folds, and shape up the light folds in the relief of the figure. Then take the third color, and lay it in, and [p. 51] make the folds which come on top of the relief; and work one well into the other, blending and laying in, as I taught you for fresco. Then take the lightest color, and put some white lead into it, with some tempera; and shape up the tops of the folds in the relief. Then take a little straight white lead, and go over certain strong reliefs as the nude of the figure requires. Then shape up the limits of the darkest folds and outlines with some straight ultramarine; and in this way stroke over the drapery the colors corresponding to each area, without mixing or contaminating one color with another, except delicately. And work with lac in the same way, and with every color which you use in secco, etc.

How to Make a Violet Color.

Chapter LXXIII

If you wish to make a pretty violet color, take fine lac and ultramarine blue, in equal parts. Then, when it is tempered, take three dishes as before; and leave some of this violet color in its little dish, for touching up the darks. Then, with what you take out of it, make up three values of color for laying in the drapery, each stepped up lighter than the others, as described above.

To Execute a Violet Color in Fresco.

Chapter LXXIII

If you want to make a violet for use in fresco, take indigo and hematite, and make a mixture like the previous one, without tempera; and make four values of it in all. Then execute your drapery.

To Try to Imitate an Ultramarine Blue for Use in Fresco.

Chapter LXXV

If you want to make a drapery in fresco which will look like ultramarine blue, take indigo and lime white, and step your colors up together; and then, in secco, touch it in with ultramarine blue in the accents. [p. 52]

To Paint a Purple or Turnsole Drapery In Fresco.

Chapter LXXVI

If you want to do a purple drapery in fresco which will look like lac, take hematite and lime white, and step up your colors as described. And blend them and work them well together. Then, in secco, touch it in with pure lac, tempered, in the accents.

To Paint a Shot[83] Green Drapery in Fresco.

Chapter LXXVII

If you want to make a shot drapery for an angel in fresco, lay in the drapery in two values of flesh color, one darker and one lighter, blending them well at the middle of the figure. Then, on the dark side, shade the darks with ultramarine blue; and shade with terre-verte on the lighter flesh color, touching it up afterward in secco. And know that everything which you execute in fresco needs to be brought to completion, and touched up, in secco with tempera. Make the lights on this drapery in fresco just as I have told you for the rest.

To Paint in Fresco a Drapery Shot with Ash Gray

Chapter LXXVIII

If you want to make a shot drapery in fresco, take lime white and black, and make a minever color which is known as ash gray. Lay it in; put the lights on it, using giallorino for some and lime white for others, as you please. Apply the darks with black or with violet or with dark green.

To Paint one in Secco Shot with Lac

Chapter LXXVIIII

If you want to make a shot one in secco, lay it in with lac; put on the lights with flesh color, or with giallorino; shade the darks either with straight lac or with violet, with tempera. [p. 53]

To Paint one in Fresco or in Secco Shot with Ocher

Chapter LXXX

If you wish to make a shot one either in fresco or in secco, lay it in with ocher; put on the lights with white; and shade it with green in the light; and in the dark, with black and sinoper, or else with hematite.

To Paint a Greenish-Gray Costume in Fresco or in Secco.

Chapter LXXXI

If you wish to make a greenish-gray drapery, take black and ocher, that is, the two parts ocher and the third black; and step up the colors as I have taught you before, both in fresco and in secco.

To Paint a Costume, In Fresco and In Secco, of a Greenish-Gray Color like the Color of Wood.

Chapter LXXXII

If you want to make a wood color, take ocher, black, and sinoper; but the two parts ocher, and black and red to the amount of half the ocher. Step up your colors with this in fresco, in secco, and in tempera.

To Make a Drapery, or a Mantle for Our Lady, With Azurite or Ultramarine Blue. .

Chapter LXXXIII

If you wish to make a mantle for Our Lady with azurite, or any other drapery which you want to make solid blue, begin by laying in the mantle or drapery in fresco with sinoper and black, the two parts sinoper,[84] and the third black. But first scratch in the plan of the folds with some little pointed iron, or with a needle. Then, in secco, take some azurite, well washed either with lye or with clear water, and worked over a little bit on the grinding slab. Then, if the blue is good [p. 54] and deep in color, put into it a little size, tempered neither too strong nor too weak [and I will tell you about that later on]. Likewise put an egg yolk into the blue; and if the blue is pale, the yolk should come from one of these country eggs, for they are quite red. Mix it up well. Apply three or four coats to the drapery, with a soft bristle brush. When you have got it well laid in, and after it is dry, take a little indigo and black, and proceed to shade the folds of the mantle as much as you can, going back into the shadows time and again, with just the tip of the brush. If you want to get a little light on the tops of the knees or other reliefs, scratch the pure blue with the point of the brush handle.[85]

If you want to put ultramarine blue on a ground or on a drapery, temper it as described for the azurite, and apply two or three coats of it over the latter. If you wish to shade the folds, take a little fine lac, and a little black, tempered with yolk of egg; and shade it as delicately and as neatly as you can, first with a little wash, and then with the point ; and make as few folds as possible, because ultramarine wants little association with any other mixture.

To Make a Black Drapery for a Monk's or Friar's Robe, in Fresco and in Secco.

Chapter LXXXIIII

If you want to make a black drapery, for a friar's or monk's robe, take pure black, stepping it up in several values, as I have already told you above, for fresco; for secco, mixed with a tempera.

On the Way to Paint a Mountain, in Fresco or in Secco.

Chapter LXXXV

If you want to do mountains in fresco or in secco, make a verdaccio color, one part of black, the two parts of ocher. Step up the colors, for fresco, with lime white and without tempera; and for secco, with [p. 55] white lead and with tempera. And apply to them the same system of shadow and relief that you apply to a figure. And the farther away you have to make the mountains look, the darker you make your colors; and the nearer you are making them seem, the lighter you make the colors.

The Way to Paint Trees and Plants and Foliage, in Fresco and in Secco.

Chapter LXXXVI

If you wish to embellish these mountains with groves of trees or with plants, first lay in the trunk of the tree with pure black, tempered, for they can hardly be done in fresco ; and then make a range of leaves with dark green, but using malachite, because terre-verte is not good; and see to it that you make them quite close. Then make up a green with giallorino, so that it is a little lighter, and do a smaller number of leaves, starting to go back to shape up some of the ridges. Then touch in the high lights on the ridges with straight giallorino, and you will see the reliefs of the trees and of the foliage. But before this, when you have got the trees laid in, do the base and some of the branches of the trees with black; and scatter the leaves upon them, and then the fruits; and scatter occasional flowers and little birds over the foliage.

How Buildings are to be Painted, in Fresco and in Secco.

Chapter LXXXVII

If you want to do buildings, get them into your drawing in the scale you wish; and snap the lines.[86] Then lay them in with verdaccio, and with terre-verte, quite thin in fresco or in secco. And you may do some with violet, some with ash gray, some with green, some [p. 56] with greenish gray, and likewise with any color you wish. Then make a long ruler, straight and fine; and have it chamfered on one edge, so that it will not touch the wall, so that if you rub on it, or run along it with the brush and color, it will not smudge things for you; and you will execute those little moldings with great pleasure and delight; and in the same way bases, columns, capitals, facades, fleurons, canopies, and the whole range of the mason's craft, for it is a fine branch of our profession, and should be executed with great delight. And bear in mind that they must follow the same system of lights and darks that you have in the figures. And put in the buildings by this uniform system: that the moldings which you make at the top of the building should slant downward from the edge next to the roof; the molding in the middle of the building, halfway up the face, must be quite level and even; the molding at the base of the building underneath must slant upward, in the opposite sense to the upper molding, which slants downward.

The Way to Copy a Mountain from Nature

Chapter LXXXVIII

Ends the Third Section of This Book. If you want to acquire a good style for mountains, and to have them look natural, get some large stones, rugged, and not cleaned up; and copy them from nature, applying the lights and the dark as your system requires.

15 Century articles Northern Euro

In the last section you learned about the black plague and the resulting transition away from Gothic and Byzantine influences in 14th century Italian art. The rising amount of powerful and rich patrons created a competitive culture across guilds, which in turn helped flourish civic pride and identity among city-states. One of the main artistic trends to emerge during that period was an interest in creating vivid and accurate portrayals of the world. This trend not only continued and developed in Italy in the following centuries, but traveled beyond the Italian city-states into northern Europe, evolving into its own unique style. In this module, we will be focusing on northern European art created during the 1400s (15th century), specifically art from France, the Netherlands, and Germany. In looking at the north, we will examine the early development of humanism and how it affected the art, culture, and religion of each region. We will also explore how the primary medium of northern Europe—oil paints!—was used to create a hyper-reality that blurred the sacred (religious) and secular (everyday, mundane) and was full of symbolism. Lastly, we will explore the practice of printmaking in Germany.

What is important to note, before looking at the art, is the difference between the centralization of political power in Italy versus the north. While Italy and Germany were dominated by independent city-states, parts of central and western Europe began emerging as nation-states. This means that, rather than small cities that were responsible only for themselves, nation states were sovereign nations composed of a group of people occupying a definite territory and ruled by a higher power. These higher powers took the form of kings, dukes, counts, etc. It twas these individuals who served as the main patrons for artists in the North.

The philosophical branch of Humanism

During this period there was a rediscovery of Greek and Roman, or Classical, texts. Because of the increase in trade during this period, these texts traveled across Europe, influencing a variety of people including religious figures, scholars, and artists alike. These texts, along with the death and darkness brought about by the Black Plague, sparked an interest in classical thought and a focus on the human experience. This branch of philosophy later became known as Humanism.

Humanism is a philosophical and ethical stance that emphasizes the value and agency of human beings, individually and collectively, and generally prefers critical thinking and evidence (rationalism and empiricism) over acceptance of dogma or superstition. The term was coined by theologian Friedrich Niethammer at the beginning of the 19th century to refer to a system of education based on the study of Greek and Roman, or classical, literature. Generally, however, humanism refers to a perspective that affirms some notion of human freedom and progress. It views humans as solely responsible for the promotion and development of individuals and emphasizes a concern for man in relation to the world (definition from Wikipedia,  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humanism ).

As a response to this new way of thinking about the world and man’s place in it, artists, such as Giotto, began creating art with a focus on human experience and interactions. However, artists in the north responded to it as well, leading to an artistic style that blurred the sacred and secular. Although humanism and the large number of surviving classical artworks and monuments in Italy encouraged many Italian painters to explore Greco-Roman themes, Northern painters developed interest in other subject matters, such as landscape and genre painting, or scenes of everyday life.

Manuscript article: https://courses.lumenlearning.com/boundless-arthistory/chapter/books-of-the-northern-renaissance/ )

Tres riches heures article: https://www.saylor.org/site/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Tres-Riches-Heures-du-Duc-de-Berry.pdf

John Ward article:

Ward, John L. “Disguised Symbolism as Enactive Symbolism in Van Eyck’s Paintings.” Artibus et Historiae 15, no. 29 (1994): 9-53. Condensed version.

The view that disguised or concealed symbolism was a fundamental feature of Netherlandish painting of the fifteenth century was widely accepted for the first two decades after the appearance of Erwin Panofsky's[endnoteRef:1] book, Early Netherlandish Painting, which remains the fullest exposition of the concept. Since then, however, it has fallen into such disrepute that by 1988 Barbara Lane could write, "most writers would probably agree that early Netherlandish painters made no effort to 'disguise' this symbolism, which was perfectly apparent to educated viewers.” [1: 15th Century art in Italy THE 15th CENTURY ITALY:  THE RISE OF THE RENAISSANCE—Part 1 The word “Renaissance” is a French word that means “rebirth” or “revival”.  When it is capitalized, it refers to the 15th and 16th centuries in Europe when an interest in the Classical world was reignited.  Interest in the Classical world is often said to have begun in Italy.  Many pinpoint the city of Florence, Italy (highlighted in the Getty’s digital exhibit on 14th century art) as the fatherland of the Renaissance, with writers and philosophers like Dante and Petrarch and artists like Giotto and Pacino hailing from the region.   I know what you are thinking, “Why did people at this time become interested in the Classical world?”.  What an important question, thank you for asking! As with nearly all trends, there are a variety of reasons, three that I’d like for us to focus on are: The Black Plague   Humanism Excavating the Classical world REBIRTH (RENAISSANCE) OF CLASSICISM: THE BLACK PLAGUE and THE WESTERN SCHISM As you know from your previous readings/classes, the Black Plague impacted every facet of late medieval European life.  The effects of this widespread disease lasted for centuries, and can still be felt today in cities like Pisa (whose population has yet to recover after the Plague).  One of the consequences of the Plague was that people started to question the authority of the Catholic Church. Keep in mind that, to those living in Europe at this time, the Plague was thought to have been a punishment from God.  It may be difficult for us to wrap our heads around this today; but, European medieval life centered on the Church and very few would have thought to question that the Plague was anything other than the wrath of God. Of course, humanity responded to this “punishment” a variety of ways.  Some turned to immoral self-indulgence—embracing gluttony, laziness, lust, and so on were natural responses to those facing death and suffering extreme loss. Others engaged more wholeheartedly in prayer, looking to the Church for support. If the Plague was God’s doing, then who better to stave it off than the priests and doctors of the Catholic Church?  Unfortunately, the devastation continued to run rampant and not even the Pope(s) could quell the fear and panic felt by all. As a result, some began question the efficacy and authenticity of the Church. Above I used Pope with an (s). This is intended to remind you that there wasn’t just one Pope at this time—the beginning of the 15th century experience what we commonly refer to today as the Western Schism.  The Western Schism occurred between 1378 and 1417. During the Western Schism, the Cardinals in the Catholic Church were divided, and two men were appointed as Pope. One lived in the city of Avignon, in Southern France, while the other lived in the Vatican in Italy.   I bet some of you are wondering, “What makes the Pope so special, anyways”? The Pope is a Bishop.  There are lots of Bishops. To Catholics, the Pope is a special Bishop, in part, because his consecration makes him the living embodiment of the apostle St. Peter—to whom Christ gave his “Keys of Heaven.”  St. Peter is often considered the “rock” upon which the Catholic Church was built. Why is the Western Schism important? This is important because it further pushed people to question the integrity of the Catholic Church.  There were mixed messages coming from the Church and many theological and practical issues that were brought forth by having two Popes ruling at once.  This, coupled with the widespread panic brought on by the plague, led the literate population to look for answers elsewhere. REBIRTH (RENAISSANCE) OF CLASSICISM: HUMANISM For the first time in over 800 years, literate peoples turned to the writings from classical world.  Of course, these texts were written in ancient Greek or Latin, so they weren’t particularly accessible to a wide audience.  The first peoples to work to translate these ancient writings, and to pen new books that were influenced by the ancient texts, hailed from Florence, Italy.  It is often for this reason that many historians pinpoint Florence as the birthplace of the Renaissance (or rebirth) of classical ideals. Humanism is a way of looking at the world, and it was brought about by both translating and studying Classical texts and an interest in trying to make meaning of the calamities that had unfolded in the previous century.  People who adopt a humanist mindset emphasize human needs and desires over divine or spiritual matters, as was advocated by ancient writers like Socrates and Aristotle. Humanists are also interested in civic virtue (serving the good of society and the local community) and looking to the natural world for earthly answers to explain phenomena.  As you can imagine, a humanist worldview directly conflicted with Church doctrine.  It is important to note, however, that most humanists at this time were still deeply Catholic.   Humanist views impacted who paid for art in the 1400s, and for what reasons.  The emphasis on civic virtue led wealthy patrons and guilds to sponsor “public art” and civic architecture.  Competitions were held and local artists demonstrated their civic virtue while vying for employment. In addition, the subjects or topics depicted in artwork from the 1400s were increasingly rendered realistically.  We’ve already seen the beginnings of this interest in naturalism in the previous century, with the art of Giotto and Pacino, but artists in this next century continue to invent (or reinvent) techniques that enable them to represent subjects naturalistically.   EXCAVATING THE CLASSICAL WORLD Interest in ancient, Classical, texts and ideologies also inspired craftsmen to look to Classical ways of sculpting, painting, and building.  For instance, Filippo Brunelleschi and Donatello traveled to Rome and spent 13 years sketching and studying the art and architecture of ancient Rome. This is noteworthy for many reasons, including that archeology as a “discipline of study” did not yet exist.  Moreover, Rome had deteriorated so significantly that packs of animals grazed on the grass that now filled the once great Colosseum, let alone the rest of ancient Rome. Most people living in Rome in the 1400s avoided the ancient ruins surrounding them, as they were emblematic of a crumbled, pagan (non-Christian) world.  Deeply influenced by their excavation and study of ancient ruins (including sculpture, paintings, and architecture), Brunelleschi and Donatello left Rome and returned to Florence where they went on to produce Classically inspired works and, through their creations, helped to fuel an artistic “rebirth” of classical art and architecture.   This “rebirth” or “Renaissance” of Classical ideals is what defines the next few centuries of art/architecture in the Western world.  Let’s now examine two case studies that exemplify the the interest in reviving Classicism and embracing Humanism in the early Renaissance.  The first case to consider is the competition for the creation of the north doors on Santa Maria de Fiore’s baptistry, the second includes sculptures decorating the exterior of the Orsanmichele.  Both csses, of course, reside in Florence. SANTA MARIA de FIORE and the COMPETITION FOR THE BAPTISTRY DOORS Santa Maria de Fiore is the name of the largest Cathedral in Florence.  Today, it is most famous for its dome, which dominates the skyline of Florence.  However, at the start of the 15th century (1400), no dome capped the Cathedral. It stood incomplete for nearly 100 years because construction was halted due to the plague and the ensuing economic decline throughout Europe.   Florence Skyline with Santa Maria de Fiore, Firenze Italy.  Photo credit: Karen Danielson, PhD View of Santa Maria de Fiore, Firenze Italy.  Photo credit: Karen Danielson, PhD In front of this massive Cathedral sits a Baptistry, thought to have been built in the 1100s (see below).  Every citizen of Florence would have been baptized in this baptistry, and it was up to the Arte del Calimala guild (the guild of merchants, finishers, and dyers of foreign cloth) to upkeep and enrich the baptistry.   In 1401, the Duke of Milan’s troops were threatening to attack Florence (Milan is another city in Italy, about 3 hours north west of Florence by car or train today).  Some historians have identified that the impending threat of war Duke of Milan’s was a cause for the Arte del Calimala guild to call for the construction of new, bronze doors to decorate the Baptistry.  Art was then, as it can be today, used to bolster civic unity and local pride. This is an important example of one way humanism and the rise of civic virtue affected art projects in this century.   Baptistry of Santa Maria de Fiore, Firenze Italy.  Photo credit: Ian Danielson The Arte del Cambio guild held a competition to determine who would be commissioned to construct the doors.  Part of what we will do in our next class will be to assume the role of the judges in this competition.  To prepare yourself for this activity, you will need to read the below 3 excerpts. The first is from a book on Filippo Brunelleschi by Ross King; the second is a primary document written by Lorenzo Ghiberti; and the third is from a biography of Brunelleschi written in the late 1400s, after Brunelleschi's death. ____________________________________________ Below is the excerpt from Brunelleshi’s Dome, by Ross King pg. 12-19. THE GOLDSMITH OF SAN GIOVANNI IN 1418 FILIPPO BRUNELLESCHI -- or "Pippo," as he was known to everyone -- was forty-one years old. He lived in the San Giovanni district of Florence, just west of the cathedral, in a large house he had inherited from his father, a prosperous and well-traveled notary named Ser Brunellesco di Lippo Lappi. Ser Brunellesco originally intended his son to follow in his footsteps, but Filippo had scant interest in a career as a civil servant, showing instead, from a young age, an uncanny talent for solving mechanical problems. No doubt his interest in machines had been sparked by the sight of the half-built cathedral that stood a short walk from the family home. Growing up in the shadow of Santa Maria del Fiore, he would have seen in daily operation the treadwheel hoists and cranes that had been designed to raise blocks of marble and sandstone to the top of the building. And the mystery of how to build the dome was probably a topic of conversation in the family home: Ser Brunellesco possessed some knowledge of the subject, having been one of the citizens who in the referendum of 1367 had voted for the bold design of Neri di Fioravanti. Although disappointed by his son’s lack of desire to become a notary, Ser Brunellesco respected the boy’s wishes, and when he was fifteen Filippo was apprenticed in the workshop of a family friend, a goldsmith named Benincasa Lotti. An apprenticeship with a goldsmith was a wise and  logical choice for a boy showing mechanical ingenuity Goldsmiths were the princes among the artisans of the Middle Ages, with a large scope to explore their numerous and varied talents. They could decorate a manuscript with gold leaf, set precious stones, cast metals, work with enamel, engrave silver, and fashion anything from a gold button to a shrine, reliquary, or tomb. It is no coincidence that the sculptors Andrea Orcagna, Luca della Robbia and Donatello, as well as the painters Paolo Uccello, Andrea del Verrocchio, Leonardo da Vinci, and Benozzo Gozzoli—  some of the brightest stars in a remarkable constellation of Florentine artists and craftsmen—had all originally trained in the workshops of goldsmiths. Despite its prestige, goldsmithing was not the most wholesome of professions. The large furnaces that were needed to melt gold, copper, and bronze had to burn for days on end, even in the heat of summer, polluting the air with smoke and bringing the danger of explosions and fire.  Noxious substances such as sulfur and lead were used to engrave silver, and the clay molds in which metals were cast required supplies of both cow dung and charred ox horn. Worse still, the workshops of most goldsmiths were found in Florence’s most notorious slum, Santa Croce, a marshy and flood-prone area on the north bank of the Arno.  This was the workers’ district, home to dyers, wool combers, and prostitutes, all of whom lived and worked in a clutter of ramshackle wooden houses. Filippo thrived in this environment, however, quickly mastering the skill of mounting gems and the complex techniques of niello (engraving on silver) and embossing.  At this time he also began studying the science of motion, and in particular weights, wheels, and gears. The immediate fruits of these investigations were a number of clocks, one of which is even said to have included an alarm bell, making it one of the first alarm clocks ever invented. This clever device—of which, unfortunately, no evidence survives—appears to have been the first of his many stunning technical innovations. Filippo matriculated as a master goldsmith in 1398, at the age of twenty-one, then rose to citywide prominence three years later during a competition that, for its intense public interest, rivaled the one between Giovanni di Lapo Ghini and Neri di Fioravanti twenty-five years earlier. This was the famous competition for the bronze doors of the Baptistery of San Giovanni. This competition—which would play a pivotal role in Filippo’s career—came about because of an outbreak of plague. The Black Death was a faithful visitor to Florence. It arrived, on average, once every ten years, always in the summer. After the horrors of 1348, there were further outbreaks, less severe, in 1363, 1374, 1383, and 1390. Various remedies were invented to drive it away. Church bells were  violently rung, firearms discharged into the air, and the portrait of the Virgin from the church at nearby Impruneta—an image with miraculous powers that was said to have been painted by St. Luke—borne in procession through the streets. Those rich enough escaped into the country. Those who stayed behind burned wormwood, juniper, and lavender in their hearths. Ox horn and lumps of sulfur were also burned, because stenches were considered equally effective in clearing the air.  So intense were these fumigations that sparrows would fall dead from the rooftops. One of the worst outbreaks occurred in the summer of 1400, when as many as 12,000 Florentines died—that is, just over one person in five. The following year, in order to appease the wrathful deity, the Guild of Cloth Merchants decided to sponsor a new set of bronze doors for San Giovanni. The Baptistery, at whose font every child in Florence was baptized, had long been one of the city’s most venerated buildings. An octagonal, marble-encrusted, domed  structure standing a few yards to the west of the rising hulk of the new cathedral, it was believed, erroneously, to be a Temple of Mars constructed by Julius Caesar to celebrate the Roman victory over the nearby town of Fiesole (in fact it was built much later, probably in the seventh century A.D.). Between 1330 and 1336 the sculptor Andrea Pisano, later one of the cathedral’s capomaestri, had cast bronze doors to ornament it: twenty panels showing scenes from the life of John the Baptist, the patron saint of Florence. But no further work had since been done to beautify the Baptistery, and Pisano’s doors had themselves fallen into disrepair. Filippo was in Pistoia in 1401, having left Florence because of the plague. There he had been working in collaboration with several other artists on an altar in the cathedral—prestigious commission—but he returned to Florence immediately upon hearing of the competition. Thirty-  four judges were selected from among Florence’s numerous artists and sculptors, along with various worthy citizens, including the wealthiest man in Florence, the banker Giovanni di Bicci de’ Medici. These judges were charged with choosing the winner from among seven goldsmiths and sculptors, all of them Tuscans. The plague was not the only threat to Florence at this particular time. No sooner had the pestilence abated than a new danger, potentially worse, hove into view, with serious repercussions for, among other things, Santa Maria del Fiore. Work on the new cathedral had been moving on apace. The great arches over the main pillars that would support the cupola had been started in 1397, and the chapels on three sides of the octagon were in the process of being vaulted. The Piazza dell’Opera, a triangular space to the east of the cathedral, had been laid out and paved, and a new building had been built to house the Opera del Duomo. Early in 1401, however, this activity abruptly ceased when the Duomo’s masons were conscripted into service fortifying the walls of Castellina in Chianti, a small town on the road to Siena. Soon afterward the Signoria, the executive body of the Republic, hastily ordered them to fortify  those of two other towns, Malmantile and Lastra a Signa, both on the road to Pisa. The reason for this sudden flurry of building was a threat from the north: Giangaleazzo Visconti, the duke of Milan, against whom the Florentines had fought a war ten years earlier. Giangaleazzo was a ginger-bearded tyrant, cruel and ambitious, whose coat of arms was suitably grisly: a coiled viper crushing in its jaws a tiny, struggling man. His autocratic rule differed drastically from the “democracy” of Florence, which fulfilled Aristotle’s criterion for an ideal republic in that it elected its rulers (albeit with a narrow franchise) to short terms in office. In 1385 Giangaleazzo had seized power in Milan by imprisoning and then poisoning his uncle, Bernabó Visconti, who also happened to be his father-in-law. To befit his new status, Giangaleazzo had bribed the emperor Wenceslas IV to grant him the title of duke of Milan. He had also begun work on a new cathedral in Milan, an enormous Gothic structure complete with pinnacles and flying buttresses—precisely the sort of architecture to which Neri di Fioravanti and his group had objected. It was this old enemy, then, whose shadow now fell over Florence. Not content with his power in northern Italy, Giangaleazzo was proposing to unite the entire peninsula under his rule. Pisa, Siena, and Perugia had already been subdued, and by 1401 only Florence stood between him and lordship of all northern and central Italy. Florence was politically and geographically isolated, cut off from the sea-ports of Pisa and Piombino. Under siege from Giangaleazzo, her trade came to a standstill, and famine threatened. The Milanese tyrant even prevented Florence from importing supplies of the wire that was used to make instruments for carding wool. As his troops moved on Florence, the historic rights of the Republic looked doomed. It was against this background of urgency and crisis that the competition for the second set of bronze doors was played out. The rules of the competition were simple. Each of the candidates was given four sheets of bronze, weighing seventy-five pounds in all, and ordered to execute a scene based on an identical subject: Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac as described in Genesis 22:2—13. This story is traditionally said to prefigure the crucifixion of Christ, but to the Guild of Cloth Merchants, with Florence “miraculously” delivered from the plague and with Giangaleazzo’s armies fast approaching, more immediate analogies may have suggested themselves in this tale of sudden salvation from mortal threat.² The competitors were given one year to complete their trial panels, which were to be some 17 inches high by 13 inches wide. A year may seem like a long time to execute such a relatively small work, but casting in bronze was a delicate operation demanding a high degree of skill. The first step in the process was to model the figure roughly in carefully seasoned clay over which, once the clay had dried, a coating of wax was laid. After the wax had been carved into the shape of the desired statue or relief-work of extreme sculptural precision—a new layer was laid over it: a combination of burned ox horn, iron filings, and cow dung was mixed together with water, worked into a paste, and spread over the wax-coated model with a brush of hog sables. Several layers of soft clay were then applied, each of which was allowed to dry before its successor was overspread. The result was a shapeless mass bound together with iron hoops—the lumpy chrysalis from which the bronze statue was to emerge. This creation was placed in a kiln and baked until the clay hardened and the layer of wax, as it melted, oozed through small vent holes made for that purpose, usually at the base. A hollow was thereby left into which bronze, melted in a furnace, was poured. The final step in the process  was to break away the shapeless husk of baked clay and ex- pose the bronze figure, which could then be chiseled, engraved, polished, and, if necessary, gilded. So fraught with opportunities for mishap was the whole process that, in later years, Michelangelo would request a Mass to be said whenever he began pouring a bronze statue. The trial pieces were completed and the judgment commenced in 1402, as Milanese troops displaying Giangaleazzo’s gruesome insignia camped outside the gates of Florence. The prestigious commission would almost certainly make the victor’s reputation. Of the original seven competitors, only two were considered worthy of the prize.  Filippo Brunelleschi found himself pitted against another young, unknown goldsmith. And so began a lifelong professional rivalry. Lorenzo Ghiberti was not the most auspicious contender for such a major commission as the Baptistery doors. Only twenty-four years old and with no major works to his credit, he was a member of neither the goldsmiths’ nor the sculptors’ guilds. Worse still, he was of dubious paternity. Officially the son of a dissolute man named Cione Buonaccorso, he was rumored to be the illegitimate child of a goldsmith, Bartoluccio Ghiberti, who was now his stepfather.³ He had apprenticed in Bartoluccio’s workshop, assisting in the manufacture of earrings, buttons, and various other staples of the goldsmith’s trade—hardly tasks on the scale of the Baptistery doors. When plague broke out in 1400, Lorenzo had left for the healthier climate of Rimini, on the Adriatic coast, where he had worked not as a goldsmith but as a painter of murals. He returned to Florence a year later, on the urging of Bartoluccio, who assured him that if he won the commission for the Baptistery doors, he need never make another earring. The two finalists in the competition could not have approached their labors more differently. Lorenzo proved the more cunning tactician, canvasing widely for advice from other artists and sculptors, many of whom happened to be on the jury. Summoned into Bartoluccio’s workshop in Santa Croce, they were asked for their opinions of the wax model, which, no matter how carefully carved, Lorenzo was always willing to melt and reshape according to their criticisms. Advice was even solicited from perfect strangers, the dyers and wool combers of Santa Croce, who were beckoned into the shop as they passed on their way to work. He also made good use of Bartoluccio, who polished the finished work for him. Filippo, on the other hand, worked in isolation. Secrecy and individual effort were to be two hallmarks of his working habits over the next forty years. Later, whether making architectural models or specialized inventions such as hoist and boats, he insisted on his own solitary authorship, never committing his ideas to paper, or if he did, only in cipher. He worked either alone or with one or two trusted disciples, always fearful that some unworthy soul would bungle his plans or attempts to steal the credit for them- a nightmare that was later to come true. ___________________________________________ Below is an excerpt from Ghiberti's Commentarii: In my youth in the year of Christ 1400, because of the corrupt air in Florence and the bad state of the country, I left that city with an excellent painter whom Signor Malatesta of Pesaro had summoned. He had had a room made which was painted by us with great care. My mind was in a large part turned to painting because of the work the prince promised us, and also the companion with whom I was continually showed me the honor and benefit we would acquire. However, at this time my friends wrote me that the governors of the church of S. Giovanni Battista were sending for skilled masters whom they wished to see compete. From all countries of Italy a great many skilled masters came in order to take part in this trial and contest. I asked permission of the prince and my companion to leave. The prince, hearing the reason, immediately gave me permission to go. Together with the other sculptors I appeared before the Operai of that church [Baptistry of S. Giovanni]. To each was given four tables of bronze. As the trial piece the Operai and the governors of the church wanted each artist to make one scene for the door. The story they chose was the Sacrifice of Isaac and each contestant was to make the same story. The trial pieces were to be executed in one year, and he who won had to be given the victory. These were the contestants: Filippo di Ser Brunellesco, Symone da Colle, Nicholò d'Areço, Jacopo della Quercia da Siena, Francesco di Valdombrina, Nicholò Lamberti. We six were to take part in the contest, which was to be a demonstration of the art of sculpture. To me was conceded the palm of victory by all the experts and by all those who had competed with me. To me the honor was conceded universally and with no exception. To all it seemed that I had at that time surpassed the others without exception, as was recognized by a great council and an investigation of learned men. The Operai of the governing board wanted the judgment of these men written by their own hands. They were men highly skilled from the painters and sculptors of gold, silver, and marble. There were thirty-four judges from the city and the other surrounding countries. The testimonial of the victory was given in my favor by all, the consuls, the Operai , and the entire merchant's guild which has charge of the church of S. Giovanni.... _____________________________________________________________ Below is an excerpt from The Life of Filippo di Ser Brunellesco: It happened in his youth, in the year of Christ 1401, that is, in his twenty-fourth year, while he was working at the goldsmith trade, that the Operai of S. Giovanni in charge of its restoration, had to contract for the making of the second pair of bronze doors of this church, which today are on the north side. The Operai first informed themselves as to which were the most renowned masters of bronze casting, including those in Florence itself, in order to give the commission to the best one. After many debates among themselves and consultations with citizens and craftsmen, it was decided that the two best were both Florentine and that neither in Florence nor elsewhere were they able to get any report of better masters. One of these two was Filippo and the other Lorenzo di Bartolo, whose names is inscribed on the doors as Lorenzo di Cione Ghiberti, for he was the son of Ciono. At the time, when the work on the doors was taken into consideration, Lorenzo was still young. He was at Rimini, employed by the Lord Malatesta, and was called by this event to Florence. To choose the best of the contestants, this method was adopted: the Operai took as a model the shape of one of the compartments of the bronze doors, representing the story of St. John, which were already there and which were executed in the past century by foreign sculptors, though the design of the figures, which were modelled in wax, was by the painter, Giotto. They asked each of the masters to make in bronze a scene in this same shape, intending to award the commission to whichever of them produced the best trial piece. The works made have been preserved to our day. The one from the hand of Lorenzo is in the reception room of the Arte de' Mercatanti. The other by Filippo is built into the back of the altar of the sacristy of S. Lorenzo in Florence. In each panel is the scene of Abraham sacrificing his son. Filippo made his panel in the form which is still to be seen today. He did it quickly because he mastered his art boldly. When he had made it, chased it, polished it completely, he felt no impulse to talk about it to anyone, because, as I have said, he was no braggart, but he waited confidently until the time of the judging. Lorenzo, it was said, was more afraid than not of Filippo's talent which was obvious enough to him, and not sure of his mastery of the art, he proceeded slowly. When it was rumored about what a beautiful thing was Filippo's he thought himself, being a man of part, of making up for it by industry and by humbly asking for advice and criticism from all those whose opinion he esteemed and who, since they were goldsmiths, painters, and sculptors, would eventually judge his work. Thus he meant to prevent the failure of his work at the competition. And while he was working on the wax model, continually consulting and asking advice, deferring to people of this sort, he endeavored to find out as much as possible about Filippo's model. Conferring with these experts, Lorenzo undid and remade the whole and parts of his model as many times as it seemed necessary to the best of them, not shirking any amount of labor while it was still under his hand in the wax stage, and after a long time he finally finished it completely. Then came the contest and the judging. The Operai and the officials of the building consulted precisely those experts whom Lorenzo had picked out as the most learned since they were in fact the most competent and perhaps there were no others; they were the very ones who had had a share in Lorenzo's work many times in the course of its progress. Since not one of them had seen Filippo's model, they did not believe that Filippo, or even Polycletus himself, would have been able to do better than Lorenzo. The fame of Filippo was not yet widespread, for he was still a young man and had his mind more on doing than on talking. But when the experts saw his model all were astonished and amazed at the problems he had set himself, such as the movement of Abraham, the position of his finger under Isaac's chin, his animation, the draperies and the style, the design of the boy's whole body, the style and draperies of the angel, his gestures, how he seizes the hand of Abraham; at the pose, style, and design of the boy drawing the thorn from his foot, and likewise the man drinking bent over. They were amazed at the many difficulties in those figures he had overcome and how well the figures performed their functions, for there was not a limb that did not have life. They admired the design of the animals that are there and every other detail as well as the composition as a whole. But since they had strongly praised Ghiberti's work to every one who would listen, it seemed awkward to them now to have to contradict themselves, though they were aware of the truth. Thus, consulting together, they fixed on this solution and made this report to the Operai : both models were very beautiful and for their part, when all things were balanced, they could not discover any superiority. Since the task was great, demanding much time and expense, let them allot an equal share in the commission to each of them so that they could work in it together as partners. When Filippo and Lorenzo were called and told the decision, Lorenzo was silent, but Filippo would not agree unless the work was entirely his, and in this he persisted. The officials kept to their decision, fully believing that in the end they would agree. Filippo would not budge, like one whom God, without his knowledge, had destined for greater things. The officials threatened to commission it from Lorenzo if he did not change his mind. He replied that he did not want to take part if he did not have entire charge and if they did not wish to do this, as far as he was concerned, he would be perfectly happy if they should give the commission to Ghiberti. They asked for opinions and as a result the city was sharply divided. Those siding with Filippo were resentful that the entire work had not been given to him. However, the matter was settled in that way. And we can see that considering what the future held in store for Filippo it was better so. 15th Century Art in Italy—Part 3: Understanding Context: Artwork under the Medici  Our focused look at the Renaissance continues by examining the influence that the Medici had on art in Italy in the 1400s.  The Medici family used art to legitimize their power and prestige. You’ve learned a little bit about the Medici family when we examined the Foundling Hospital and the construction of the Duomo, both by Brunelleschi.  This module will help you to understand this powerful family more, particularly in light of their patronage of the arts. What follows is a brief overview of the Medici family.  Then, you will read an article that addresses several ways in which the Medici utilize the arts to legitimize their power. The last section of this module will examine the impact of Lorenzo de Medici’s interest in Classicism on art. Let’s begin by introducing you to the Medici family.  The below article, from Rice University, on will provide you with useful information on this important Renaissance family. A BRIEF OVERVIEW OF THE MEDICI: The Medici family of Florence can be traced back to the end of the 12th century. It was part of the patrician class, not the nobility, and through much of its history the family was seen as the friends of the common people. Through banking and commerce, the family acquired great wealth in the 13th century, and political influence came along with this wealth. At the end of that century, a member of the family served as gonfaliere, or standard bearer (high ceremonial office) of Florence. In the 14th century the family's wealth and political influence increased until the gonfaliere Salvestro de' Medici led the common people in the revolt of the ciompi (small artisanate). Although Salvestro became the de facto dictator of the city, his brutal regime led to his downfall and he was banished in 1382. The family's fortune then fell until it was restored by Giovanni di Bicci de’ Medici (1360-1429), who made the Medici the wealthiest family in Italy, perhaps Europe. The family's political influence again increased, and Giovanni was gonfaliere in 1421.   Giovanni's son, Cosimo (1389-1464), Cosimo il Vecchio (the old or first Cosimo), is considered the real founder of the political fortunes of the family. In a political struggle with another powerful family, the Albizzi, Cosimo initially lost and was banished, but because of the support of the people he was soon recalled, in 1434, and the Albizzi were banished in turn. Although he himself occupied no office. Cosimo ruled the city as uncrowned king for the rest of his life. Under his rule Florence prospered. Cosimo spent a considerably part of his huge wealth on charitable acts, [he] live[d] simply, and cultivated literature and the arts. He amassed the largest library in Europe, brought in many Greek sources, including the works of Plato, from Constantinople, founded the Platonic Academy and patronized Marsilio Ficino, who later issued the first Latin edition of the collected works of Plato. The artists supported by Cosimo included Ghiberti, Brunelleschi, Donatello, Alberti, Fra Angelico, and Ucello (boldface added, these are artists we have discussed or will discuss in class). During his rule and that of his sons and grandson, Florence became the cultural center of Europe and the cradle of the new Humanism. Cosimo's son Piero (1416-1469) ruled for just a few years but continued his father's policies while enjoying the support of the populace. Piero's sons, Lorenzo (1449-1492) and Giuliano (1453-1478) ruled as tyrants, and in an attack in 1478 Giuliano was killed and Lorenzo wounded. If the family fortunes dwindled somewhat and Florence was not quite as prosperous as before, under Lorenzo, known as the Magnificent, the city surpassed even the cultural achievements of the earlier period. This was the high point of the Florentine Renaissance: Ficino, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Botticelli, Michelangelo, etc. (boldface added, these are artists we have discussed or will discuss in class).  But Lorenzo's tyrannical style of governing and hedonistic lifestyle eroded the goodwill of the Florentine people. His son Piero (1472-1503) ruled for just two years. In 1494, after accepting humiliating peace conditions from the French (who had invaded Tuscany), he was driven out of the city and died in exile. For some time, Florence was now torn by strife and anarchy and, of course, the rule of Savonarola.   ________________________________________ As noted in the above article, Cosimo is often identified as the patriarch of the Medici family.  Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that Cosimo is the first in the family to invest heavily in the arts.  He does this for a variety of reasons, but a primary reason was certainly to invest in the local community, gain support in the community by supporting local artisans, and to utilize art as a way to reinforce his power.  The below article vivifies these points by examining two, very famous, works of art made for the Medici by the artist Donatello. Please note that the footnotes and bibliography for this article are at the end of the module. Machinations, Manipulations, and the Medici: The Legitimisation of Medici Rule Through Donatello’s “David” and “Judith and Holofernes” The Medici family came into prominence in 1434, after Cosimo de’ Medici returned from exile and with the decline of the previously powerful Albizzi family. They served as de facto rulers of Florence from 1434 to 1494, when they were expelled from the city again. One of the wealthiest families in Italy, the Medicis were famous for their patronage of the arts, through their support of artists such as Ghiberti, Brunelleschi, Fra Angelico, and Donatello. Cosimo did not have a court, and no salaried artists until the end of the fifteenth century.[i] Despite this, the Medici family maintained its power through it’s supporters and through clever manipulation of republican processes, as opposed to legal authority.[ii]Florence took great pride in upholding republican ideals of independence and self-government, and had a signoria elected by the people. However, the signoria ultimately became puppets in the hands of the Medici, who had to be cautious and subtle in their efforts to maintain power as they were not established rulers.[iii] Their chosen strategy was to make use of republican imagery to subvert any charges of tyranny against them. The family thus made use of art to create powerful visual symbols, and imbued the imagery with republican values and opinions about themselves which they wanted to project to the citizens. The Medici used artistic patronage to create an identity for themselves as just, moral leaders by masking their political ambitions with religious and moral themes.[iv] Donatello’s sculptures of David and Judith and Holofernes were a part of this political propaganda. Through an examination of their setting, inscriptions, the religious and political connotations of the Biblical figures, and the sculptures’ emphasis on justice, the Medici family’s calculated attempt to give their rule the appearance of legitimacy can be effectively brought out. Donatello’s bronze David Donatello’s bronze statue of David was commissioned by Cosimo de’ Medici for the Palazzo Medici. The dating of the statue remains unclear, the suggested dates for it’s creation being between the 1420s and 1460s, with the earliest mention of it in a manuscript describing Lorenzo de’ Medici’s wedding to Clarice Orsini in 1466.[v] The statue depicts a young, triumphant David immediately after his battle with the Philistine warrior Goliath, whom he struck with a slingshot and then beheaded- an episode from 1 Samuel 17.[vi] David is depicted as standing with one foot on the severed head and sword in hand, wearing only a shepherd’s cap covered with laurel leaves, and boots. David’s face suggests a moment of contemplation. and his physique is ambiguously effeminate, distinguishing it from other representations of David including Donatello’s own marble David commissioned in 1408. Judith and Holofernes Judith and Holofernes was also commissioned by Cosimo or Piero de’ Medici and created in bronze between the late 1450s or early 1460s.[vii] The sculpture  draws from a Biblical story in the deuterocanonical Book of Judith, depicting Judith slaying the Assyrian general Holofernes after charming him with her beauty and getting him drunk, thereby saving her town of Bethulia from the threat of Assyrian conquest. Judith is shown to be straddling Holofernes’ bare chest , pinning his wrist down with her foot, and grasping his hair tightly as she holds his sword high in her right hand- all with an expression of unsettling calm. The contortion of Holofernes’ neck indicates that he has already been struck once, and Judith is about to deliver the second blow to sever his head.[viii] Besides the similarity of the material used and the depiction of Biblical characters in both, the two sculptures are linked by their setting in the Medici palace. Before they were installed in the Palazzo, the only other instance of David and Judith appearing close to each other was in Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise.[ix]  Both statues were displayed in public spaces of the palace, namely, the courtyard and the garden. The David was placed on a high base in the courtyard, which was visible even from the street as it was in front of the palace’s main entrance. This opened out to the main path from San Marco which the procession of the Confraternity of the Magi took, during the Feast of the Epiphany- a celebration the Medici closely associated themselves with.[x] The garden, located behind the courtyard, housed the Judith and Holofernes. Both sculptures could therefore be accessed by all, as the courtyard was open to visitors, and the garden to invited guests.[xi] The placement of the David and Judith and Holofernes within the base of Medici power and  in view of the public brings out the intention of making them symbols of Medici rule in Florence for all. The courtyard of the Palazzo Medici When dealing with the anti-tyrannical connotations of both the statues, it is important to note the similarity in their respective inscriptions. Christine M.Sperling  connects the two inscriptions by mentioning that they accompanied each other in the Riccardiana Manuscript.[xii]The bronze David once had the following inscription with it- “The victor is whoever defends the fatherland. God crushes the wrath of an enormous foe. Behond! A boy overcame a great tyrant. Conquer, o citizens!”[xiii]  This inscription is similar to that of the earlier marble David by Donatello, whose inscription read-  “To those who bravely fight for the fatherland god will offer victory even against the most terrible foes.”[xiv]Sperling mentions that the lines were taken from a poem by Filfelfo, who wished to regain the favour of the Medicis through it.  The inscription evidently stresses on and justifies the need for people to rise against tyranny,with David here acting as the defender of the “fatherland” and of liberty,  and even directly incites the citizens of Florence to do so. Moreover, the reference to the marble David, which was present in the Palazzo Della Signoria at the time, connected the Medici with the Florentine republican government and showed an accordance with their ideals.[xv] Donatello’s marble David Similarly, the inscription to Judith and Holofernes was as follows- “Kingdoms fall through luxury, cities rise through virtue; behold the neck of pride severed by humility.”  In the Book of Judith 9:9-11, Judith prays to God saying- “Send your fury on their heads,” and “Break their pride by a woman’s hand.” The neck is also associated with pride in the writings of St.Augustine, who mentioned “stiff-neckedness” when speaking about his own pride, as well as by Dante, who in Purgatory speaks about the proud being unable to raise their necks because of the weight of heavy boulders.[xvi] The horses on the medallion around Holofernes’ neck have also been commonly interpreted as representing pride.[xvii]Moreover, the first two lines are in accord with the Florentine humanists’ belief that the increase of private luxury was inimical to public virtue, and that true nobility resided in virtue itself.[xviii] The Medici might have wanted to project themselves as true upholders of virtue, despite their contradictory position as one of the wealthiest families in Italy. The sculpture also bore a second inscription- “The salvation of the state, Piero de’ Medici son of Cosimo dedicated this statue of a woman both to liberty and to fortitude, whereby the citizens with unvanquished and constant heart might return to the republic.” This inscription overtly connects Judith and Holofernes to contemporary Florence in order “to strengthen this Medicean assertion of their position as a dynasty with a symbiotic relationship with the commonwealth of the city at large.”[xix] David and Judith and Holofernes, along with their respective inscriptions, would carry certain political and historical resonances for the Florentine public. Allie Terry traces the changes of the beheading motif in Florence- changes which are paralleled by Medici personal and political history. The decapitations depicted in the sculptures as well as their inscriptions contain references to the Albizzi coup of 1433-34, which had resulted in the Medici being exiled from Florence. The rampant problem of factionalism which had led to the rise of Albizzi power became the reason for their downfall and the exile of Rinaldo Albizzi with the return of the Medici to Florence in November 1434. Terry also mentions that decapitation imagery rose in Medici art commissions after their return from exile. The new sculptures thus served to emphasize the changing position of the Medici in Florence. In a 1976 article, Horst Janson placed David in the context of the conflict between the Florentines and the Visconti of Milan which raged in the 1420s, with Goliath’s head representing the Visconti.[xx] Though both statues paint the Medici as the right rulers for Florence through their defence of liberty, the inscription to Judith and Holofernes in particular has overt political connotations. In his Istorie fiorentine, Giovanni Cavalcanti discusses the conflict between the Albizzi and the Medici, and mentions that Florence “abounded with men filled with pride”, among whom was Rinaldo Albizzi. Pride was identified as a cause of communal unrest in Dante as well, and the Judith sculpture could this be seen as representing the fall of the Albizzi because of Rinaldo’s pride.[xxi] At the same time, it celebrated the virtue of the Medici rule from 1434, thus utilising the sculpture for both self-aggrandizement and to bring in resonances of political history. Terry also contends that the decapitation imagery alluded to the beheading of St John the Baptist, as the officials who caused the disturbances were elected on 29th August- the day of the feast of San Giovanni Decollato and the day John the Baptist was decapitated. In his History of Tuscany, Francisco Guicciardini mentioned that the Florentines interpreted the conflict as a result of them having angered their patron saint by disrespecting his feast day and failing to protect the Medici. The Medici’s took this opportunity to devote themselves to the head of John the Baptist, which was the most notable aspect of his martyrdom. The head was a prized relic and Cosimo led an attempt to steal it from the church of San Silvestro in Capite. Salome with the Head of John the Baptist by Caravaggio After procuring the head, dramatised re-enactments of the beheading of St John the Baptist became a part of the festal celebrations on 29th August, and the Medici closely associated themselves with the celebration. In addition, they also associated themselves with Epiphany rituals of the cult of the Magi in Florence, and sponsored the images used in the rituals, for example, the climactic moment of Herod’s slaughter in the liturgical plays. As mentioned earlier, the procession would cross the main entrance of the Palazzo Medici on their way to the cathedral, thus enabling a full view of the David. The Medici thus slowly wrought an indirect association between themselves and the beheading of St John the Baptist (also seen in the frescoes in the church of San Marco), and with the inclusion of theatrical representations of the beheading, the festal celebration came to be associated with a celebration of Medici power within the city. The commissioning of the David and Judith and Holofernes thus alluded to a visual rhetoric of decapitation and political friction which the Florentines would have grasped.[xxii]Sarah Blake McHam also adds that the sculptures would make the more educated, elite citizens recall the bronze statues of the Athenian Tyrannicides group depicting Harmodios and Aristogeiton- heroes who, according to Pliny, were symbols of Athenian democracy. She adds that contemporary Florence would recall two famous tyrannicides in ancient history- the attempt to murder Hippias, which was believed to have established democracy in the west, as well as the assassination of Julius Caesar, which was seen by some as treachery, but by many, like Boccaccio, as justified tyrannicide.[xxiii] Thus the Medici could promote themselves as defenders of democracy and liberty when Donatello’s statues were seen in this context- ideals which were central to the republicanism in Florence at the time. The Tyrannicide sculptures The selection of David and Judith in particular as symbols for Medici power is significant. They are both Jewish saviours from the Old Testament who conquer evil forces. Their respective stories represent the victory of the weak over the strong.  In keeping with his position in the Old Testament, David was usually depicted as a king, but Donatello introduces a change by depicting David as a naked youth. In antiquity, nudity was used to depict gods and heroes and Donatello’s David appears to recall such heroism in his moment of victory over the tyranny and injustice represented by the head of Goliath.[xxiv] The youthfulness of David is emphasized by his physique- he does not appear strong enough to hold a heavy sword and defeat the formidable Goliath. This stresses that it was divine intervention which caused David’s victory and not David himself.[xxv] In the story of Judith as well, it is her prayer to God which gives her the power to overcome Holofernes.  Divine backing in both cases seems to hint that the Medici too wanted to portray themselves as agents of good aligned with divine principles and perhaps backed by divine sanction. Judith was interpreted in the medieval period as a “moral, religious, and political heroine.”[xxvi] In Christian thought, her triumph over Holofernes was seen as a victory of virtue. Most importantly, she was seen as an epitome of humility and chastity, which conquers the pride and licentiousness Holofernes represents.[xxvii]Her humility is already mentioned in the first inscription. The Medici also wished to associate themselves with this humility, which would allow them to assume a moral position above that of their enemies. Judith’s chastity is brought out by her demure and sober attire, in contrast to Holofernes’ semi-nakedness. The abundance of cloth surrounding her body does not sexualise her figure, in contrast to Holofernes’ plentiful hair which she is seen grabbing, which was a marker for sexual virility at the time.[xxviii] The monk Hrabanus Maurus saw Judith as a model of prudence by citing Jerom’s preface to the Book of Judith.[xxix] Thus through the image of Judith, the Medici wished to promote themselves as humble, prudent and virtuous rulers while simultaneously accusing their enemies of being morally depraved and crude.[xxx] An important aspect of the Florentine republic was the stress on justice. Civic humanists stressed  on maintaining justice and liberty in order to become virtuous individuals- an essential quality for one in charge of a republic. One was advised to adhere to Cicero’s theory of virtue in the De Inventione and De re publica, where Cicero explained that virtue consisted of four parts, or four cardinal virtues- justice (justitia), prudence (prudentia), fortitude (fortitudio), and temperance (temperanzia). Of the four virtues, justice and prudence were given the most importance.[xxxi] The four virtues were represented in paintings, where they were often accompanied by the three theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. The Cardinal and Theological Virtues by Raphael Justice would also be represented in depictions of archangel weighing souls or wielding a sword to ward off Satan’s dragon. A painting of St Michael weighing souls by Master of Soriguerola Artistic representations of justice were very much accessible at the time, and was utilised by governments who wished to legitimise their rule.[xxxii] The Medici too employed the David and Judith and Holofernes sculptures as a part of their visual propaganda to emphasize that they were just rulers. The associations of the beheading sculptures with the decapitation of St John the Baptist as discussed previously served to re-iterate the injustice of the beheading by Salome, and in connection, the injustice of the Medici exile of 1433-34, simultaneously encouraging devotion to the saint and support to the political agenda of the Medicis. Dontello’s statues invert the association of beheading with injustice and instead connect decapitation with liberty through the combined use of suggestive imagery and inscriptions. The re-enactment of the saint’s martyrdom also took place at the site of the gallows, where criminal executions took place, thus strengthening the connection of the decapitations with justice.[xxxiii] Both David and Judith are shown holding swords. This would be reminiscent of the sword held by Lady Justice, symbolizing punishment. Lady Justice This obvious visual link to justice would justify the actions of both the figures. Judith as representative of justice would be further asserted when taken in the context of her as a symbol for the Florentine republic, which was commonly envisioned as a woman.[xxxiv] The Medici thus tried to craft an image of themselves as ideal, virtuous republican rulers for whom justice was of utmost importance in their political outlook. The political propaganda of the Medici discussed brings us to the question of political opposition they faced at the time and why they had to manipulate art to convey their virtue, justice, and agreement with republican ideals. Despite their calculated efforts to portray themselves as virtuous propagators of anti-tyrannical beliefs and libertas, there were a number of charges of tyranny laid against the Medici which caused them to look for ways to assert their leadership as just. The accusations started as early as 1440, by Giovanni Cavalcanti, who wrote that he believed a tyrannical regime would overcome the constitutional government of Florence when speaking of the Medici rule.[xxxv] He voiced his disapproval of the manipulations of the 1444 elections by the Medici. Rinuccini discussed the tyranny of the Medicis three decades later in his De libertate. He spoke about the violation of liberty and republican institutions by the Medici, and called Lorenzo de’ Medici a “tyrant of Florence.”[xxxvi]The Dominican Savanarola also vehemently criticised Medici rule as being tyrannical and ungodly and through his sermons, tried to inspire citizens to rise against immorality and injustice represented by the Medici.[xxxvii] The Medici were well aware of the charges levelled against them, and Cosimo de’ Medici had tried to distance himself from the sectarian behaviour the Florentines saw as being against the liberty the city valued.[xxxviii] The Medicis retaliated to the accusations against them by commissioning the David and Judith and Holofernes which tried to assert their love of liberty and justice in an environment charged with dissent and opposition. The Medici were exiled due to popular revolts in 1494, following which the David was moved to the courtyard of the Palazzo della Signoria. Judith and Holoferes too was seized and placed on the platform which was once attached to the west side of the Palazzo della Signoria. It’s inscription was effaced and replaced with a new one- “An exemplar of the public good. The citizens installed it here in 1495.” The new inscription implied the participation of all the citizens in its placement, as well as reiterating the belief that Judith was most importantly a defender of the well-being of the city of Florence.[xxxix] Thus the function of the statues the Medici had used to insist on their humble service to the republic was inverted. Placed in the site of power of the new government, the David and Judith and Holofernes now exemplified civic duty and became symbols of Medici despotism and fraudulence. The agents of God had overcome the forces of evil now associated with the Medici family, and established divine sanction behind republican ideals. The removal of the sculptures from the Medici palace and the effacement of the inscription recalls the practice of damnatio memoriae[xl], where public works commissioned by a traitor or previous ruler would be destroyed so as to remove it from public memory. In this case, the earlier symbols of Medici power were altered to fit the new government and highlight it’s power over the forces of hypocrisy and injustice. The works which were intended to glorify and legitimise the rule of the Medici in Florence thus ironically became symbols of their scheming, tyranny, and defeat by the republican government. ____________________________________________ Cosimo’s use of the arts to reinforce his family’s legacy was brilliant propaganda.  His grandson, Lorenzo, will also serve as a significant patron of the arts. Lorenzo comes in to power as a young, 20 year old man.  He is arguably one of the wealthiest, most eligible bachelors in all of Europe and he knew it. Lorenzo used his position, and home, to foster dialogues on the Classical world.  He grew the Medici library and their classical art collection, significantly. During these early years of Lorenzo’s de facto reign, he invited people to his palace to read and discuss the Classical past—ushering in a new interest in theories by the Classical philosopher Plato (often referred to in this context as Neo (new) Platonism.  One artist who was exposed to Lorenzo’s circle of Neoplatonic thinkers was Alessandro di Mariano di Vanni Filipepi (c. 1445-1510). You may know this artist better by his nickname, Sandro Botticelli. Many of the most famous paintings that Botticelli creates are topics of interest to the Lorenzo and his followers.  For instance, two of his most famous paintings La Primavera and The Birth of Venus are classical subjects.  This is not to suggest that Botticelli didn’t paint Christian narratives, he did!  But his classical, mythological paintings stand out against a backdrop of an era that was almost exclusively comprised of religious paintings.  Let’s look more closely and Botticelli’s La Primavera and The Birth of Venus.  Both of these images have been scrutinized heavily by art historians and there is no consensus on the exact story or meaning of either.  Part of the reasons why historians debate the meanings of these works is because we know very little about them. After Botticelli dies, he is (essentially) forgotten.  It will not be until the late 1800s. The only writings that we have about these unique works by Botticelli come from a man named Giorgio Vasari, who writes about them approximately 70 years after Botticelli’s death.   16th Century Art in Norther Europe articles When we last visited northern Europe, we examined how artists began working within the new naturalism that Giotto had initiated a century earlier. This rise in naturalism was due to the rediscovery of classical texts and the rise of Humanim. However, because of its literal, and metaphorical, distance from Italy and the classical world, Humanism developed differently in the North. For instance, the Tres Riches Heures by the Limbourg Brothers is an example of the move away from the communal devotion we saw in Italy with their larger than life altarpieces, to more private forms of devotion. The Merode Altarpiece by Robert Campin is an example of how artists in the North began blending together sacred and secular scenes and motifs, almost completely blurring the distinction between the two. The complex system of embedded and enacted symbols, as discussed by John Ward, utilized by Northern artists aided in this blurring process.   In returning to the North, we will see how these characteristics continued and, as in some cases, evolved. We will examine the effect the Protestant Reformation—one of the most prolific religious revolutions in Western history—had on Northern culture and art. We will then examine the advent of printing as an artistic medium and how it developed in the North. Then finally we will move on to examples of Northern artists who both exemplify Northern artists standards, yet also deviate from them.   Protestant Reformation While humanism had immediate visual effects on art during the 14th and 15th centuries, which we have been examining so far in class, it also planted a deeper seed in the Northern psyche. This seed opened up new ways of thinking about humans, their place in the world, and their eventual salvation. The reevaluation of these questions, especially in relation to traditional Catholic doctrine which had dominated Europe for centuries, eventually led to one of the greatest religious revolutions in history: the Protestant Reformation. The Protestant Reformation can best be understood as an upheaval or divide of Western Christianity. At its core, this divide was motivated by the rise in nationalism and civic responsibility; the Western Schism, which had eroded loyalty to the papacy; and the impact of humanism. The person responsible for this revolution was Martin Luther (1483-1546). No, not the civil rights movement leader with a dream (aka Martin Luther King Jr.), but the Augustinian monk who in 1517 posted his 95 Theses on the door of a Catholic church condemning their doctrines and practices and declaring his own religious ideas. In fact, the reason we have so many branches of Christianity today is because of Luther’s actions. He quite literally changed the face of religion and of Europe, particularly the North.    Humanism, Protestant Reformation, and its Effect on Northern Art As you have read about in previous modules, the spread of humanism throughout both Italy and northern Europe greatly affected Renaissance culture, especially its art. However, as we have briefly discussed in class, it did not develop the same in both regions. While Italy had it’s classical past to draw from, the North found inspiration elsewhere.    Read the entire article: https://courses.lumenlearning.com/boundless-arthistory/chapter/the-northern-renaissance/ Cranach the Elder and Protestant Art As you learned in the documentary, Luther’s ideas spread like wildfire throughout northern Europe. While he did receive backlash from those in his own community and region, a lot of people were quick to follow in line. Not only did Luther appeal to the common people, as he allowed religion and salvation to return to the hands of individuals rather than a religious authority figure, but he also appealed to scholars and great thinkers of the time. Even the creative minds responded positively to Luther’s writings, affecting the development of the artistic forms and style. One such artist was the German artist Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553), who was also a close friend of Luther. While for the first part of his career, Cranach created religious works of art following Catholic tradition, he then tried to find new and innovative ways to convey Lutheran doctrines and ideals. In Cranach’s work, we can see the standard for Protestant art in the north.   Read the following article on one of Cranach’s most well-known paintings, which is also one of the most classic examples of Protestant art, Law and Gospel:   https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/art-history/renaissance-reformation/protestant-reformation1/a/cranach-law-and-gospel-law-and-grace Sullivan, Margaret A. “Bosch, Bruegel, Everyman and the Northern Renaissance.” Oud Holland 121, no. 2/3 (2008): 117-146. Satire is the genre inherited from the ancient world in which wrongdoing is exposed in an entertaining way. It was ideally suited to serve the reformist interests of Christian humanists in the north and its influence is already apparent in the Renaissance of the twelfth century. In his De contemptu mundi (On Despising the World) for example, Bernard of Morval writes, 'hie satiram sequor (here I follow satire), he refers to his ancient models, 'Flaccus Horatius et Cato, Persius et Juvenalis', and then launches into a vivid attack on the vice and errors of his own time. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries this understanding of the genre as a vehicle for criticism indebted to a specific group of ancient writers remains fundamentally unchanged. In his De inventione dialéctica written in 1479, Rudolph Agricola says in satire the practice and the subject-matter is the same as in Horace, Persius and Juvenal, that is they correct manners and behavior and censure vices (reprehendant vitia). Erasmus, in his Dialogus Ciceronianus of 1528, advises that if you wish to write satire follow Horace, if comedy Terence, distinguishing the two genres on the basis of ancient models with Horace placed first among the satirists as he was Erasmus's favorite. What is new in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries is the extraordinary enthusiasm that the genre evoked. Scholarly humanists analyzed it at length, produced lengthy commentaries, and defended the educational value of the satirists. They debated its sources, discussed its two branches—the prosaic claimed by the Romans as their own, and fantastic or Menippean satire derived from Greece. Typical examples of their efforts include Polydore Vergil’s discussion of satire and its origins in his influential De rerum inventoribus first published in 1500, and Jacques Pelletier’s Art poétique published in 1555. Pelletier defines satire as a 'biting genre (La Satire est un genre de poème mordant)', discusses the etymology of the word, describes it is a genre filled with people and things, and says the satirist tells the truth under cover of laughter. With the advent of the printing press the influence of the genre expanded as ancient satires became available to a growing audience, urban and literate, who valued the wisdom of the past as a guide in the present." The popularity of Juvenal 'both in the school curriculum and as a source of ethical precepts, freely cited in religious as well as secular works,' made his satires familiar even to those with a relatively modest education'. … … Northern writers were not alone in recognizing the relevance of the genre of satire for their own concerns. The close relation between poets and painters and their license to create whatever they pleased, a fundamental precept in Horace’s De arte poetica, gave northern artists the freedom to follow the traditions of an ancient genre and create a new kind of art. For some artists their interest was short-lived, the results sporadic, but for Hieronymus Bosch the genre of satire was a cornerstone of their careers, inspiring some of their most innovative works … By 1500 the satirists had long served as a rich source for Christian moralizing with St. Jerome serving as both intermediary and example, a crucial link with the classical past as he adapted the genre for his own reformist agenda and appropriated the satirists for use in a Christian context. In the following centuries phrases from the satirists permeate medieval sermons and religious tracts with Christian writers adopting the vivid images most effective for holding the attention of their audience… This long-standing habit of joining the classical with the Christian and quoting a line from the satirists in support of a passage from the Bible was familiar to Bosch and his viewers. Bosch's great contribution was to adopt the integrative strategy that Christian humanists writers used with such success, drawing on the same sources—the satirists and the Bible—to break new ground and create an unprecedented kind of painting. The fool driven by materialistic concerns is a staple of Roman satire with Juvenal, Horace and Persius launching numerous diatribes against the inordinate love of money and possessions. For Bosch's contemporaries, familiar with the use of the ancient satirists as confirmation for a Christian viewpoint, Bosch's Everyman (the image is listed as figure 1; it is shown below) traveling through the world was an appropriate image to evoke the famous phrase from Juvenal's tenth satire, ‘Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator (he sings a song in the face of the robber because he travels with an empty purse).’ From the mid-fifteenth century on, in detailed commentaries the humanists struggled over individual passages from Juvenal's Satires and discussed them at length. In time, many of Juvenal's phrases acquired proverbial status making them an ideal choice for an artist who wished to satisfy Christian concerns as well as humanist enthusiasms. ‘Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator (he sings a song in the face of the robber because he travels with an empty purse), was one of the most familiar of these proverbs with Juvenal using the viator (traveler) to make the point that only the man unburdened by possessions can travel safely through the world. It was a message, like so many others, in which the ancient satirists gave trenchant expression to a view consistent with a Christian perspective. However, for Bosch to follow Juvenal and make the same point in a visual satire it was necessary to show the bad, not the good—the fearful man who can not sing because he is burdened with material concerns and carries his goods with him on his journey. The traveler with his heavily laden pack and worried expression was an effective way for Bosch to translate Juvenal's phrase into visual terms. Juvenal's criticism is not directed solely against the wealthy. He satirizes everyone who is so concerned with their worldly possessions that they go through life in a state of fear. Bosch's traveler is not rich, but neither is he poor. The cumbersome pack on his back is large, he is fully clothed, a money bag hangs from his belt in the Rotterdam version, and the emotion of fear is suggested by his furrowed brow and anxious eyes, details especially notable in the Rotterdam version. Juvenal says even if ‘you carry but a few plain silver vessels' on your journey you will fear 'the sword and cudgel of a free-booter’ and 'tremble at every shadow'. In the Haywain (the image is listed as figure 2; the image is shown below) version of Bosch’s E*veryman the violent attack of thieves predicted by Juvenal is enacted in the background on the left where a traveler is being robbed, tied to a tree by one thief while the others slit open his pack and steal his clothing. On the right peasants unencumbered by possessions sing and dance. Erasmus, whose background was similar to that of Bosch in many respects, makes a similar association between the emotion of fear and possession of wealth. He includes the proverb ‘Timidus Plutus’ (Fearful Plutus) in his Adages and after discussing how Plutus ‘s wealth makes the god fearful, he ends by quoting Juvenal’s tenth satire and the relevant line—'cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator’—only the empty-handed traveler can travel without fear. The truly poor man is naked. The proverb 'Der naeckde is quat tzo berouen (it is hard to rob a naked man) is included in the Proverbia Communia from around 1480 and variations appear in other proverb collections…. If Bosch has used a quiescent figure, nearly naked and unburdened by possessions, it would have raised different expectations on the part of his viewers and without a text to clarify the message the moral of Juvenal's satire would be lost. The visual satirist is constrained in ways that do not affect the writer. Irony, a favorite weapon in literary satires, is always susceptible to misinterpretation and if it is not easy to say the one and give the contrary' in literature it is even more difficult in a painting. Erasmus could refer to Juvenal and discuss the proverb while Bosch needed to show the bad, the negative image, the fearful and foolish man laden with his belongings. The lesson of Bosch’s traveler—only the fool lives in fear because of his material possessions—was an important point of convergence between the classical world and the Christian. Figure 1. Everyman (Traveler), Hieronymus Bosch, 1500-1510; oil on wood; Rotterdam Figure 2. Everyman (Traveler), Hieronymus Bosch, 1500-1510; oil on wood, exterior wings of Haywain triptych Mark Evans Dürer and Italy Revisited: the German Connection For four centuries, the opinions expressed by Giorgio Vasari in 1568 and by Carel Van Mander in 1604 have been central to discussion of the relationship between Albrecht Dürer and Italian art. According to Vasari, Dürer sought: to imitate the life and to draw near to the Italian manners, which he always held in much account... Of a truth, if this man, so able, so diligent, and so versatile, had had Tuscany...for his country, and had been able to study the treasures of Rome...he would have been the best painter of our land...1 Van Mander turned this criticism of Dürer against itself: he applied himself to the imitation of life...without meticulously seeking out or choosing the most beautiful of the beautiful, as did the judicious Greeks and Romans with great discernment in ancient times, which, when it was perceived in the ancient sculptures, opened the eyes of the Italians in early days... It is most admirable how he brought about or discovered so many particulars of our art from nature or, as it were, from within himself...2 While Vasari regarded Dürer as essentially second-rate on account of his ignorance of Tuscan disegno and the surviving remains of classical antiquity, the Dutchman Van Mander valued his achievements the greater, for springing directly from nature and his own genius. The comparative value of academic training as opposed to the study of nature, reinforced by native genius, remained a contentious issue in Georgian England. In his Third Discourse, delivered to the students of the Royal Academy in 1770, Sir Joshua Reynolds observed that: Dürer, as Vasari has justly remarked, would, probably, have been one of the first painters of his age...had he been initiated into those great principles of the art, which were so well understood and practised by his contemporaries in Italy.3 Against these lines, in the margin of his copy of the second (1798) edition of Reynolds’ Discourses on Art, William Blake interjected: What does this mean, ‘Would have been’ one of the first Painters of his Age? Albert Durer Is, Not would have been... Ages are all Equal. But Genius is Always Above The Age.4 During the earlier 19th century Dürer was the object of a huge upsurge of enthusiasm among German artists and writers, and in 1842 his marble bust by Christian Rauch was formally installed in the neo-classical pantheon known as the Walhalla, outside Regensburg, to commemorate a hero of the German nation. By 1905 his canonical role was such that the Swiss art historian Heinrich Wölfflin posed – albeit somewhat tongue in cheek – the rhetorical question: can Dürer be extolled by us as the German painter? Rather must it not be finally admitted that a great talent has erred and lost its instincts by imitating foreign characteristics? ... his work is interspersed with things which are alien to us. Samson has lost his locks in the lap of the Italian seductress.5 Erwin Panofsky took a quite different line in 1922, characterising him as a key figure in the reintegration of classical form and subject-matter: Dürer was the first Northern artist to feel this ‘pathos of distance’. His attitude towards classical art was neither that of the heir nor that of the imitator but that of the conquistador. For him antiquity...was a lost ‘kingdom’ which had to be re-conquered by a well-organised campaign.6 Vasari and Van Mander, Wölfflin and Panofsky still condition our perception of Dürer and Italy. In this reconsideration, I will trace some parallels among Dürer’s German contemporaries, including merchants and printers as well as artists, courtiers and humanists. I will then consider several of his principal Italianate works, and seek to summarise his attitude towards Italian art. Numerous German artists are documented in the Veneto during the 15th century. We find seven painters at Padua in 1441–61 and five in Venice between 1432 and 1489, while German sculptors produced numerous works in the region, such as the 50 walnut reliefs in the choir stalls of the Frari, completed in 1468.7 The goldsmith’s craft, which Dürer learned from his father, was represented by 13 German and Netherlandish practitioners at Venice between 1437 and 1508.8 A major surviving work by a German painter active in Italy in the mid-Quattrocento is the Annunciation painted in 1451 by Jos Amman of Ravensburg at Santa Maria di Castello in Genoa.9 Such works were praised by contemporary humanists, especially Bartolommeo Fazio, who considered Van Eyck and Rogier van der Weyden to be two of the four greatest painters of his day.10 Before Dürer, the German artist most familiar with Renaissance art was the sculptor and painter Michael Pacher.11 Probably in the 1460s, he travelled from the Tyrol to Padua, where he encountered the work of Donatello and Mantegna. Pacher became expert in one-point perspective, and low viewpoints and abrupt foreshortening became a hallmark of his personal style. He rejected the antique repertory of form and decoration, retaining an assertively late gothic style. Dürer’s home town of Nuremberg was one of the largest and richest cities in the Empire; its pre-eminence symbolised by custody of the Imperial regalia. Following a visit in 1444, Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini, later Pope Pius II, enthused over the splendid appearance and setting of the city, and praised its culture and government.12 In 1483, the Spanish visitor Pero Tafur was more laconic: Nuremberg is one of Germany’s largest and richest cities... . Many craftsmen live there... and because of its position in the middle of the continent, its trade routes are many.13 Pre-eminent among the south German merchant elite were the Fuggers of Augsburg. Jörg Fugger (1453–1506) and his brothers Ulrich and Jacob founded what became the largest counting- house in Europe. He worked for some years in Venice, where he was painted by Giovanni Bellini in 1474 (Pl. 1).14 Such merchants were required to work at the German House, called the Fondaco 1 Evans de’ Tedeschi, next to the Rialto bridge. In 1497 the pilgrim Arnold von Harff wryly observed: I was able to see daily much traffic in spices, silks and other merchandise packed and dispatched to all the...German cities of the Empire...the counting-houses paid daily to the lords of Venice a hundred ducats free money, in addition to which all merchandise was bought there and dearly paid for.15 From 1484 until 1500, Jörg directed the Fugger branch in Nuremberg, and married into the wealthy Imhoff family. He sat Mainz in 1486.25 Its frontispiece depicts a lady in Venetian costume by the Utrecht painter Erhard Reuwich (Pl. 3). When he and his companion Canon Bernard von Breydenbach visited Venice in 1483, they stayed with the Frankfurt patrician Peter Ugelheimer, who financed the most celebrated printer in Venice during the 1470s, the Frenchman Nicolaus Jenson.26 In part payment, Ugelheimer received deluxe copies of Jenson’s publications, richly bound with covers inspired by Islamic bindings, and decorated by leading miniaturists such as the for a lost portrait drawing by Dürer, who later designed his tomb.16 The Nuremberg patriciate also had intellectual links with Italy. This was especially true of the family of Dürer’s closest friend, Willibald Pirckheimer.17 His great-uncle spent many years in Italy, and knew the celebrated German philosopher Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, the papal legate at the Diet of Nuremberg in 1444. Willibald’s grandfather studied at Perugia, Padua and Bologna, and his father at Padua during the 1460s. Dürer was born in a house rented from the Pirckheimer family, near their principal residence.18 The greatest astronomer of the day, Johann Müller, known as Regiomontanus, settled in Nuremberg in 1471. He had taught at Padua and attended the principal centre of humanist culture in central Europe, the court of Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary. Regiomontanus’ library included a manuscript copy of Leon Battista Alberti’s De Pictura, and his printing press was one of the first in Germany to employ humanist typeface.19 After his return to Rome, his research was continued by the merchant Bernhard Walther, whose wife stood as godmother to Dürer’s sister Christina in 1488.20 The Schedel family of Nuremberg also had a tradition of studying in Italy. Hermann Schedel studied medicine at Padua in 1439–44, while his cousin Johannes read canon law at Bologna in 1468, and the latter’s brother Hartman studied medicine, and the elements of Greek, at Padua in 1463–6.21 Hartman’s huge library of over 1,000 manuscript and printed volumes survives largely intact, and ranges from letters, geography and history to medicine, astronomy and theology. He was commissioned by the merchant Sebald Schreyer and his brother-in-law Sebastian Kammermeister to edit the Nuremberg World Chronicle.22 This weighty compilation of numerous authorities, from Ptolemy and Strabo to the modern historians Flavio Biondo and Aeneas Sylvius, appeared in Latin and German editions in 1493. It was printed by Dürer’s godfather Anton Koberger, and his master, the painter Michael Wolgemut, designed its enormous programme of over 1,800 woodcuts. The World Chronicle was essentially a humanist enterprise, and about a quarter of its Latin print-run was consigned to Italy. However, its style of decoration is far from humanist in character. Few Italian prints circulated in Germany at this date; the Florentine engraving of The Battle of the Trousers pasted into Hartman Schedel’s manuscript volume of medical texts was probably acquired during his stay in Padua in the 1460s (Pl. 2).23 As an astronomer, Schedel seems a plausible conduit for the arrival in Nuremberg of the engraved astronomical Ferrarese Tarrochi, made in the 1460s, which were copied as woodcuts by Wolgemut around 1490, and later as drawings by the young Dürer.24 The deluxe illustrated account of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land called the Opus transmarine peregrinationis appeared at Paduan Benedetto Bordon.27 The Venetian print trade had been founded in 1469 by the goldsmith John of Speyer, whose business was continued by his brother and his widow Paola, who may have been the daughter of the great painter Antonello da Messina.28 German printers dominated the trade until the 1480s, and over 30 are documented in Venice in the last three decades of the century.29 The most distinguished was Erhard Ratdolt, son of an Augsburg sculptor, who arrived as a teenager in 1462, and set up as a printer in 1476, initially in partnership with Peter Loeslein of Nuremberg and an Augsburg painter named Bernhard.30 His publications have elegant classical design, and his 1482 edition of Euclid was the first printed book with mathematical figures and gold lettering. Anton Kolb, a Nuremberg merchant resident in Venice, was a middle-man in the distribution of the World Chronicle. In 1500, probably employing German block-cutters, he published the great multi-sheet woodcut, the View of Venice, designed by the Venetian painter Jacopo de’ Barbari.31 Around this time, the block-cutter Johannes of Frankfurt published a close woodcut copy of Pollaiuolo’s engraved Battle of the Naked Men (Pl. 4).32 In collaboration with the Alsatian woodcutter Jacob of Strassburg, Benedetto Bordon branched out into the design and publication of large woodcuts, notably the Virgin and Child with St. Sebastian and St. Roch and the Triumph of Caesar, published at Venice in 1504.33 Such examples indicate the central role of German entrepreneurs, craftsmen and artists in the print culture of late Quattrocento Venice. The Imperial court had begun to embrace humanism by 1487, when the Emperor Frederick III crowned the German ‘arch-humanist’ Conrad Celtis as poet laureate in Nuremberg Castle.34 In 1493 Celtis delivered an ode in praise of St. Sebald in Nuremberg, and in 1501 received a charter from Maximilian I to establish a school of Roman literature at the University of Vienna ‘to restore the lost eloquence of the previous age’.35 Maximilian married Bianca Maria Sforza of Milan in 1494: his marriage gifts included an illuminated copy of Giovanni Simonetta’s life of Francesco Sforza.36 Its frontispiece bears an equestrian figure of the first Sforza Duke, probably based on the effigy erected in Milan Cathedral to celebrate the marriage settlement. Bianca Maria was accompanied to Innsbruck by the illuminator and painter Giovanni Ambrogio de Predis, who carried out portrait commissions, and designed new coinage at the Imperial mint.37 At this time Willibald Pirckheimer was completing his studies at the University of Pavia.38. He was a close friend of Galeazzo da Sanseverino, a patron of Leonardo da Vinci and favourite of Ludovico Sforza, who married the duke’s natural daughter Bianca in 1496. Pirckheimer acquired an exquisite small volume of Italian sonnets and songs, written in gold and silver script on leaves tinted green and purple, with miniatures 2 of Apollo and the Muses and Apollo and Daphne by the Sforza court artist Giovan Pietro Birago (Pl. 5).39 Pirckheimer’s final years in Italy coincided with Dürer’s first visit. In 1494 Dürer made dated copies after Mantegna’s engraved Bacchanal and Battle of the Sea Gods, and a distinctly Mantegnesque Death of Orpheus, whose original model does not appeartosurvive. (Pl.6).40 HisdrawingofthegroupofTurks which also appears in Gentile Bellini’s Procession in the Piazza San Marco, and several studies of ladies in Venetian costume, one dated 1495, confirm his presence in Venice. (Pl. 7).41 The copies which Dürer made the same year after Polliauolo and Lorenzo de’ Credi probably derive from works available in the Veneto, as a nude sketch by Polliauolo is documented at Padua by 1474, while Credi visited Venice in the 1480s, where his master Verrocchio was working on the Colleoni monument.42 Following his return to Nuremberg, Dürer made five prints of secular subjects with nudes, based on Italian studies. Of these, only the Four Witches of 1497 is internally dated (Pl. 8). It follows an antique group of the Three Graces, and its central figure copies a Venus Pudica.43 The only woodcut among these secular prints, titled Ercules in the block, is probably the earliest of the group. Its female figures and antique armour recalls Mantegna, while the hero’s right leg follows Dürer’s copy after Pollaiuolo. Its subject has been identified as the little-known tale of Hercules conquering the Molionide Twins.44 Dürer’s engraved Sea Monster recalls Mantegna’s Battle of the Sea Gods, as well as a niello by the Bolognese engraver Peregrino da Cesena.45 The drawing titled Pupilla Augusta is a reversed design for a print which was never cut (Pl. 9). Its musing figure at the right is copied from a Ferrarese engraving of the same title. The background group with Venus Urania on a dolphin recall another niello by Peregrino.46 Dürer’s so-called Hercules at the Crossroads is a pastiche (Pl. 10). Its figure of a reclining nymph is a variant, in reverse, of the abducted woman in the Sea Monster. The central trees, stave-wielding woman, fleeing child and the defensively-raised arm of the nymph derive from Mantegna’s lost Death of Orpheus.47 Vasari called it ‘Diana beating a nymph’ and praised its ‘supreme delicacy of workmanship, attaining to the final perfection of this art...’.48 Such recondite subjects would have delighted a narrow circle of local humanists such as Conrad Celtis, who praised Dürer in 1499–1500 as ‘the most famous painter in German lands...a second Phidias, a second Apelles...’.49 However, it is likely that most viewers would have enjoyed these compositions simply as virtuoso assemblages of figures – male and female, beautiful and grotesque, at rest and in violent action. These prints were widely copied, from the Dutch border to Moravia, as well as in North Italy.50 This does not suggest that they were the sole preserve of a cultural elite. Dürer’s only mythological painting is Hercules Slaying the Stymphalian Birds, now in Nuremberg, which was painted around 1500 for the Elector of Saxony, Frederick the Wise, a supporter of humanism who founded the university of Wittenberg (Pl. 11). The heroic archer resembles that in Pollaiuolo’s Hercules and Deianira in New Haven, but the muscular tension and swerving posture of this Florentine model have been eliminated, in favour of a more relaxed profile which emphasises its proportions.51 In 1500, Jacopo de’ Barbari was appointed ‘portrait painter and illuminator’ to the Emperor Maximilian at Nuremberg, where he remained until 1503.52 Dürer’s proximity to Jacopo during these years is demonstrated by the similarity between their two engravings of Apollo and Diana.53 Hartman Schedel owned at least five engravings by Jacopo which he pasted into a manuscript volume of antiquities and epigrams compiled in 1502–5.54 Many years later, Dürer recalled: If I cannot find someone else who has described how to make human proportions,thenthereisalwaysJacopo[deBarbari],alovely painter, born in Venice. He showed me [figures of] a man and woman which he had made from measurements; and at that time I would have preferred to have had his judgement than a new kingdom, and if I had it, I would have put it into print in his honour for the general good. But at that time I was still young, and had not heard of such things... I realised that Jacopo wouldn’t clearly explain his principles. So I set to work on my own and read Vitruvius, who writes a little about a man’s limbs. Thus I took my start from or out of [the work of] these two men, and since then have continued my search from day to day according to my own notions.55 This is confirmed by Dürer’s constructional drawing of a female nude, dated 1500, which embodies Vitruvius’ canon (Pl. 12).56 His slightly later Nemesis engraving is also based on a study with Vitruvian proportions.57 Vasari described this sheet as ‘a Temperance with marvellous wings, holding a cup and a bridle, with a most delicate little landscape’.58 Nemesis has the features of Dürer’s wife Agnes, and seems to represent a mismatch between ideal proportions and external form. It may have been one of the prints Vasari had in mind when he mischievously observed that: Albrecht was perhaps not able to do better because, not having any better models, he drew, when he had to make nudes, from one or other of his assistants, who must have had bad figures, as Germans generally have when naked...59 Dürer proceeded, via several drawings embodying the ideal types of the Apollo Belvedere and a Venus Pudica, to the Fall of Man engraving of 1504.60 He also experimented with ideal equine proportions, based on a modular principle which may derive from sketches by Leonardo da Vinci.61 These culminated in the engraved Small Horse of 1505 (Pl. 13). This has recently been plausibly identified as Bucephalus, the steed of Alexander the Great; whose head appeared on antique coins.62 It has been pointed out that the latter also inspired the horse’s head on the reverse of Pisanello’s medal of Francesco Sforza, cast around 1441 (Pl. 14).63 The latter source was more probably Dürer’s immediate model. In its features and proportions The Small Horse recalls studies made by Leonardo da Vinci at Milan during the 1490s, in the stables of the courtier Galeazzo da Sanseverino; the friend of Pirckheimer, who visited Nuremberg in 1502.64 The arch above The Small Horse may derive ultimately from the effigy erected at Milan in 1493 to celebrate Bianca Maria Sforza’s marriage to Maximilian, which seems to be reflected in the frontispiece of the Emperor’s copy of the life of Francesco Sforza.65 Dürer returned to Italy in 1505, and wrote the first of 10 surviving letters from Venice to Pirckheimer in January 1506. He settled into the local German community, seeking out books, jewellery, glassware, carpets and oil for Pirckheimer, and accepting portrait commissions, such as the Portrait of a Venetian Lady, dated 1505, now in Vienna. Vasari later believed that Dürer visited Venice to prevent the Bolognese engraver Marcantonio Raimondi from pirating his prints.66 However, his principal undertaking was the altarpiece of The Feast of the Rose Garlands, now in Prague (Pl. 15). This was Dürer and Italy Revisited: the German Connection 3 Evans commissioned by the German confraternity of the Virgin of the Rosary, founded in 1504 at San Bartolomeo, near the Fondaco de’ Tedeschi.67 Its head was Leonhard Wild of Regensburg, active as a printer at Venice in 1478–81.68 He may have first encountered Dürer on his previous visit. The fee of 85 ducats compared favourably with those of leading Venetian painters, but was lower than some Dürer received in Germany.69 The iconographic programme of the altarpiece is German, but its principal formal models were works by Giovanni Bellini – such as the Pala demonstrated by his gift to Raphael of a self-portrait in gouache on fine cloth, in return for a red chalk nude study for the Vatican Stanze.82 In the Low Countries in 1520–1, he saw Michelangelo’s Bruges Madonna and Child and met Tommaso Vincidor, with whom he exchanged prints for what were probably engravings after Raphael.83 However, the masters of Vasari’s ‘third period’ left no trace in Dürer’s work. This omission is underlined by his last great monumental painting, The Four Apostles of 1526, which he gave to the city of Nuremberg. Its composition derives from Barbarigo of 1488, and the San Zaccaria altarpiece of 1505.70 By February 1506, Dürer was already asserting to Pirckheimer that: Giovanni Bellini has highly praised me before many nobles. He...himself came to me and asked me to paint something and he would pay well for it. And all men tell me what an upright man he is, so that I am really friendly with him. He is very old, but is still the best painter of them all.71 The care Dürer took over The Feast of the Rose Garlands is demonstrated by its 21 surviving studies, mostly in the Venetian technique of wash on blue paper (Pl. 16).72 Such coloured paper was principally employed for wrapping goods, and considerable quantities of it would have been used at the Fondaco de’ Tedeschi, where the German packers were sufficiently numerous to have their own craft brotherhood.73 Dürer wrote triumphantly that his altarpiece had silenced critics who thought that he couldn’t handle colours.74 Vasari agreed that it was ‘a rare work and full of most beautiful figures’, which he believed had influenced Giovanni Bellini.75 In October 1506 Dürer announced his intention to visit Bologna, ‘to learn the secrets of the art of perspective, which a man is willing to teach me’.76 If he made this journey, he would have arrived at about the same time as Erasmus of Rotterdam, in time for Julius II’s triumphal entry on 11 November.77 Dürer was in Venice at the start of 1507, when he purchased a copy of Euclid’s Opera, but was back in Nuremberg by the end of the following February.78 In 1508–9, he painted one of his most Italianate works, the altarpiece of the Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin, commissioned by the merchant Jacob Heller for the Dominican church in Frankfurt. Its central panel was lost to a fire, but is recorded by a faithful 17th-century copy (Pl. 17). This indicates that, like The Feast of the Rose Garlands, the Heller Altarpiece was iconographically something of a German-Italian hybrid. It combines a Coronation of the Virgin by the Trinity, similar to those in South German retables such as Michael Pacher’s Gries Altar, with a two-tier Assumption and Coronation, as in Raphael’s Coronation altarpiece of 1502–3.79 If Dürer knew the latter composition, he rejected its static phalanx of apostles, in favour of a seething ring of figures viewed from every direction, with one facing the viewer, staring into the empty tomb. An analogous configuration appears in a Florentine engraving of this subject by Francesco Rosselli after a design attributed to Botticelli, which probably dates from the 1490s (Pl. 18).80 Rosselli’s lost six-plate engraved View of Florence is a likely prototype for Jacopo de’ Barbari’s woodcut View of Venice, and the former is recorded as having been in Venice in 1505 and 1508.81 It therefore seems likely that impressions of his large and imposing print of the Assumption would have been available to Dürer in Venice. During his second visit, Dürer entirely ignored the younger generation of painters, such as Giorgione and Sebastiano del Piombo. That he did not entirely lose touch with Italy is the wings of Giovanni Bellini’s Frari Triptych.84 As he had observed 20 years earlier, at Venice, Bellini remained ‘the best painter of them all’. Along with Jacopo de Barbari, who Dürer recalled in 1523 as ‘a lovely painter’, he especially acknowledged his debt to Mantegna, who had died during his second visit to Venice.85 Dürer was principally drawn to a narrow Veneto-Padua circle of artists, all with German connections. Giovanni Bellini’s earliest surviving oil painting is his portrait of Jörg Fugger.Bellini’s brother-in-law Mantegna worked for the Marquis of Mantua; whose house was closely linked by marriage with the Margrave of Brandenburg, the Duke of Bavaria, and the counts of Württemburg and Görz.86 When Paola Gonzaga married Count Leonhard of Görz at Bolzano in 1478, her trousseau included two pairs of elaborately decorated cassone inspired, and possibly designed by Mantegna.87 The Mantuan court painter aspired to an imperial title, and apparently painted Frederick III during his visit to Italy in 1469, although the Emperor actually knighted his brother-in-law Gentile Bellini, creating him a count palatine.88 As we have seen, Jacopo de’ Barbari worked for Anton Kolb in Venice, and for the Emperor Maximilian in Nuremberg. He was subsequently employed by the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, Count Philip of Burgundy and Margaret of Austria, Regent of the Netherlands.89 By the 1490s, humanism was a significant element in the elite culture of Nuremberg and the Imperial court. At Venice, it was broadcast through the new medium of printing, by German entrepreneurs and craftsmen, including goldsmiths who cast type, and painters and carvers who designed and cut blocks for illustrations. From his formative years Dürer was closely associated with this burgeoning print culture. He evidently felt little need to travel further afield than the Veneto, where his countrymen felt so much at home, despite mentioning to Pirckheimer on 18 August 1506, that ‘I have a mind if the King comes to Italy, to go with him to Rome.90 However, the imperial coronation of Maximilian I was delayed until 1508, and then took place in Trent, the seat of a German prince-bishop subordinate to the Italian patriarch of Aquileia. By middle age, freed from financial need by his substantial ‘back catalogue’ of prints, Dürer was able to devote himself to his own publications on ‘measurement, perspective and other like matters...’(Pl. 19).91 By the eve of the Reformation, writers such as Ulrich von Hutten and Jakob Wimpheling were expressing reservations about the influence of Italian fashions in Germany.92 The waxing and waning of Dürer’s fascination with Italy invites comparison with that of Erasmus, whom he may have met in Bologna as early as 1506, and certainly drew in 1520–1. Around 1489, the young Erasmus wrote the dialogue Antibarbari, in defence of classical studies. In 1528, the year of Dürer’s death, in his treatise The Right Way of Speaking, the 4 elderly humanist praised him for achieving – with only the black lines of his prints – the full range of effects, emotions and sensations which Apelles had needed colours to represent.93 The same year, in his Ciceronian Dialogues, Erasmus criticised his Italian contemporaries’ slavish imitation of classical models, and argued that if ‘Apelles... by some chance returned to life...’ and ‘painted Germans as he once painted Greeks...wouldn’t he be said to have painted badly?’94 He believed that humanists should emulate the spirit, rather than imitate the forms of their classical sources. Notwithstanding Dürer’s observation, in an early draft of a treatise on painting, that an artist should be ‘instructed in Latin, so far as to understand certain writings’,95 his own, exceptionally privileged access to the ancient world was provided by his humanist friends Pirckheimer, Melanchthon and Camerarius. Their expertise liberated him from the need to laboriously crib classical subject-matter from Italian pictorial sources. His treatises, Instructions on Measurement and Four Books on Human Proportion, published in 1525 and posthumously in 1528, indicate that towards the end of his life Dürer sought to reduce the elements of beauty to a mathematical system (Pl. 19). The acquisition of such essential principles made redundant the imitation of the external appearances of any approved canon – Italian or otherwise. Dürer acknowledged that the lost arts of antiquity had been brought to light by the Italians, and conceded that ‘many talented scholars in our German land have been taught the art of painting, without any foundation...’, and had ‘grown up in ignorance, like a wild unpruned tree...’.96 However, he believed that if German artists would add knowledge of measurement and perspective to their traditional dexterity and colour sense, they would ‘gain skill by knowledge and knowledge by skill’ and ‘in time allow no other nation to take the prize before them’.97 Vasari acknowledged this independence when he observed that ‘if Albrecht Dürer... did once come to Italy, nevertheless he kept always to one and the same manner...’.98 12 16th Century Art in Italy—The High Renaissance: Leonardo and Raphael _____________________________________________________________ Art and Science—Galileo Galilei Ottavio Leoni, Portrait of Galileo, 1624, engraving and etching (Fitzwilliam Museum) Renaissance artists—painters, sculptors and architects—had been observing nature with a special interest in depicting it faithfully and realistically from the early 15th century on. In fact, by turning to the problem of art and science in the Renaissance, it is possible to find the roots for Galileo's own peculiarly realistic—and idealistic—approach to nature. The values and attitudes Galileo held were ones he shared with Italian humanists, including philosophers, artisans, and even musicians. After reading the below essay, you should be able to explain why advancements in math and science were important influences on the High Renaissance.   Galileo Galilei was born near Pisa in 1564—the same year in which Shakespeare was born and the year in which Michelangelo and Calvin died. After studying at the University of Pisa, he was appointed to the chair of mathematics—and as the photograph below reminds us, it was in Pisa that the famous leaning tower might well have suggested Galileo's most famous experiment. Bell tower, Pisa, photo: bombman  (CC BY 2.0) First of all, the theory that virtually everyone accepted at the time, was the traditional theory of Aristotle—who believed that heavier objects fall more quickly than lighter ones. Consider, for example, two objects—one twice as heavy as the other. Imagine Aristotle at the top of the leaning tower of Pisa, dropping off two cannonballs, one twice as heavy as the other. According to Aristotle, it should fall twice as fast. If it were four times heavier, it should fall four times faster. But in fact, what the leaning tower of Pisa type of experiment demonstrates, when actually performed, is that Aristotle was wrong, that no matter what the difference in weight, two heavy objects will fall simultaneously at virtually the same speed. If Aristotle were right, this could only happen if the larger stones were dropped from a higher point in the clouds—but at virtually the same time—or that the lighter ones started falling earlier than the heavier ones—neither of which seemed very probable to Galileo. Instead, the simplest explanation was simply that heavy or light, all stones fell simultaneously with the same speed. His first telescope Image of the moon, from Galileo’s presentation copy of the Sidereus nuncius (1610), courtesy History of Science Collections, University of Oklahoma Libraries In any case, Galileo's interest soon turned from falling bodies to astronomy. Rumors of an invention made by a Dutch spectacle-maker reached Venice, and these led Galileo to construct his first telescope in July of 1609. It wasn't long before Galileo began to make a series of startling observations, including the discovery of innumerable stars never seen before, mountains on the moon, the movements of which he carefully plotted from day to day. He was soon to publish these discoveries in a book, the Siderius Nuncius (Starry Messenger) which caused an overnight sensation. Galileo named the moons of Jupiter the "medicean planets"—in honor of his former student Cosmo and the famous Medici family—thanks to which he was shortly thereafter appointed Chief Mathematician and Philosopher to the Grand Duke of Tuscany in Florence. The Heavens are Imperfect All of these discoveries—and others—posed yet more direct challenges to Aristotle's idea of the perfection of the heavens (namely that the heavens were perfect, immutable, unchanging). Some Aristotelian astronomers refused to look through Galileo's telescope, others tried to deny what he had seen. The Roman Catholic Church, however, was becoming increasingly concerned—and a young Dominican, Tommaso Caccini, was the first to denounce Galileo officially and the Copernican theory during a sermon in Santa Maria Novella, Florence Italy. Arrest and trial A few years later, as concerns mounted, Galileo was officially advised by Cardinal Bellarmino on the Pope's behalf to proceed cautiously and speak only hypothetically about the Copernican theory, but not as if it were actually real. Galileo returned to Florence and continued work on his book, but now he gave more emphasis to mathematical arguments rather than to experimental or physical arguments—as the Pope wished. But when the book finally appeared in 1632, it raised an immediate storm of protest leading immediately to Galileo's arrest and famous trial by the Inquisition in Rome that found him guilty of having published a heretical book. In the end, Galileo had no choice but to repent and confess that he had gone too far. Bust of Galileo (detail), Giambattosta Foggini, Tomb of Galileo, Santa Croce, Florence, 1727 He was sentenced to life imprisonment, which he spent, for the most part, at his own villa at Arcetri near Florence, under the surveillance of the Inquisition. Even so, Galileo, in his last years, now undertook his last and perhaps greatest work, his Discourses on the Two New Sciences, which has been described as "the cornerstone of modern physics." When Galileo died in 1642, totally blind and almost 78 years old, Pope Urban VIII did not forget his feud with Galileo, and refused to permit his burial with a suitable monument—instead, Galileo was buried unceremoniously in the Church of Santa Croce, in Florence. A few hundred years later his remains were moved to their present magnificent tomb, opposite that of Michelangelo, near the entrance to the church. Nature is mathematical Galileo believed that nature was inherently mathematical, that mathematics was the language of nature—that mathematics was the key to understanding the reality behind the appearance of natural phenomena (for example, accelerated and parabolic motions). What Galileo achieved in revolutionizing physics was to show how observation, careful measurement, and attention to the structure of a given event—all led to an appreciation of hidden causes that ultimately expressed the pervasive mathematical unity of all nature. Galileo and Renaissance Art Renaissance artists had contributed greatly to man's knowledge by the time Galileo was doing his first work at Pisa. The humanist artists of the Italian renaissance had performed their own dissections to promote the study of anatomy, they had invented mathematical perspective to make possible the accurate, realistic portrayal of physical space. The literary humanists had managed to revive all sorts of classics, in particular the works of Plato. Christopher Columbus had directly challenged the limits to the finite European world of Ptolemy's geography. In short, the bounds of human knowledge were expanding at a rapid rate.      Ludovico Cigoli, Assumption of the Virgin, 1612, fresco, Pauline Chapel, Santa Maria Maggiore  Virgin Mary (detail) "clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet" (Apocalypse 12:1), Ludovico Cigoli, Assumption of the Virgin, 1612, fresco, Pauline Chapel, Santa Maria Maggiore Thus it comes as no surprise that Italian artists of Galileo's day responded favorably, even enthusiastically, to the new discoveries that science itself was making. It was Galileo's friend, Lodovico Cigoli, who incorporated the latest discoveries of his telescope, hot off the press in Galileo's Siderius Nuncius(1610) in his own version of the Assumption of the Virgin painted just two years later in 1612. In Cigoli's painting, notice the treatment of the moon at the Virgin's feet—rendered as though it were seen though the telescope, exactly as Galileo had recorded it in his own pen and ink drawing only a few years earlier.* Mathematics is the Language of Nature In closing, how can we draw together all of the diverse strands of renaissance artistic realism, especially Brunelleschi's discovery of perspective, with Galileo's experiments on acceleration and his analysis of projectile motion? It is clear that renaissance artists were seeking a new world, thanks in part to mathematics and the new perspective, literally, that mathematics provided. Galileo not only inherited this perspective, but a philosophical sense as well that had been inspired by renaissance philosophers (especially Neoplatonists), namely that the underlying reality of the world we perceive is essentially mathematical. G.B. Riccioli, Almagestum Novum (1651)  Hand of God (detail), G.B. Riccioli, frontispiece, Almagestum Novum (1651) This was exactly the point made in Riccioli's dramatic depiction of the hand of God, creating the world according to mathematical principles, number and weight and measure written clearly on his fingers to make no mistake about the inherent, essential mathematical character of the physical world. Renaissance artists and architects had already succeeded in translating physical space into the mathematical terms of proportion and perspective to produce works that tricked the eye and rivaled nature. Galileo used mathematics with equal skill to reveal the underlying structure of physical space and motion to show that these, too, could be reduced to mathematical analysis. In connecting physical space and real motion—which could be observed experimentally—with the ideal and uniform change of his neo-platonic, mathematical world, Galileo also serves to bridge the early stages of the scientific revolution in Europe—and figures like Copernicus and Kepler—with the later unifying achievements of Descartes, Newton and Leibniz. Thus in a very direct way, it was mathematics that not only facilitated the art of renaissance perspective, but provided the key as well to Galileo's new science of nature. In both cases, the essence of physical reality was understood in terms that could be reduced to basic mathematical principles. Essay by Professor Joseph Dauben *See Steven F. Ostrow, “Cigoli's Immacolata and Galileo's Moon: Astronomy and the Virgin in early seicento Rome,” Art Bulletin, vol. LXXVIII, no. 2 (June 1996), pp. 218-235 (online here). Ostrow writes: Edgerton has argued that Cigoli's moon was 'no doubt inspired by one of Galileo's original drawings, but a comparison between them immediately reveals that the painter did not, in fact, faithfully copy any of the drawings  or, for that matter, any of the engravings published in the Sidereus nuncius.' In light of Cigoli's professed difficulty with Latin, it is also unlikely that he relied on Galileo's written description. We do know, however, that by early 1612 Cigoli was in possession of a telescope, through which, as he proudly informed Galileo, he saw the moon 'very well.' He may, therefore, have made his own drawings of the moon in conjunction with his work on the fresco, inspired by what he had learned from Galileo and perhaps, too, in an effort to corroborate his friend's discoveries in the face of mounting criticism in Rome. Leonardo di Vinci The heavens often rain down the richest gifts on human beings, but sometimes they bestow with lavish abundance upon a single individual beauty, grace and ability, so that whatever he does, every action is so divine that he distances all other men, and clearly displays how his greatness is a gift of God and not an acquirement of human art. Men saw this in Leonardo. (Vasari, Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects) Leonardo: from Florence to Milan Leonardo was born illegitimate to a prominent Tuscan family of potters and notaries. He may have traveled from Vinci to Florence where his father worked for several powerful families including the Medici. At age seventeen, Leonardo reportedly apprenticed with the Florentine artist Verrocchio. Here, Leonardo gained an appreciation for the achievements of Giotto and Masaccio and in 1472 he joined the artists’ guild, Compagnia di San Luca. Leonardo da Vinci, Head of Leda, c. 1504-06, pen and ink over black chalk, 14.7 x 17.7 cm (Royal Collection trust, UK) Because of his family’s ties, Leonardo benefited when Lorenzo de’ Medici (the Magnificent) ruled Florence. By 1478 Leonardo was completely independent of Verrocchio and may have then met the exiled Ludovico Sforza, the future Duke of Milan (Ludovico ruled as regent from 1481-94, before becoming Duke). In 1482, Leonardo arrived in Milan bearing a silver lyre (which he may have been able to play), a gift for Ludovico Sforza from the Florentine ruler, Lorenzo the Magnificent. Ludovico sought to transform Milan into a center of humanist learning to rival Florence. Leonardo da Vinci, Superficial anatomy of the shoulder and neck, c. 1510, pen and ink over black chalk, 29.2 x 19.8 cm (Royal Collection trust, UK) Leonardo flourished in this intellectual environment. He opened a studio, received numerous commissions, instructed students, and began to systematically record his scientific and artistic investigations in a series of notebooks. The archetypal “renaissance man,” Leonardo was an unrivaled painter, an accomplished architect, an engineer, cartographer, and scientist (he was particularly interested in biology and physics). He was influenced by a variety of ancient texts including Plato's Timaeus, Ptolemy’s Cosmography, and Vitruvius’s On Architecture. Leonardo is credited with having assisted Luca Pacioli with his treatise, Divina Proportione (1509). Joining the practical and the theoretical, Leonardo designed numerous mechanical devices for battle, including a submarine, and even experimented with designs for flight. In a now famous letter (likely written in the early 1480s), Leonardo listed his talents to the future Duke, focusing mostly on his abilities as a military engineer. The letter reads: My Most Illustrious Lord,  Having now sufficiently seen and considered the achievements of all those who count themselves masters and artificers of instruments of war, and having noted that the invention and performance of the said instruments is in no way different from that in common usage, I shall endeavour, while intending no discredit to anyone else, to make myself understood to Your Excellency for the purpose of unfolding to you my secrets, and thereafter offering them at your complete disposal, and when the time is right bringing into effective operation all those things which are in part briefly listed below: 1. I have plans for very light, strong and easily portable bridges with which to pursue and, on some occasions, flee the enemy, and others, sturdy and indestructible either by fire or in battle, easy and convenient to lift and place in position. Also means of burning and destroying those of the enemy.  2. I know how, in the course of the siege of a terrain, to remove water from the moats and how to make an infinite number of bridges, mantlets and scaling ladders and other instruments necessary to such an enterprise.  3. Also, if one cannot, when besieging a terrain, proceed by bombardment either because of the height of the glacis or the strength of its situation and location, I have methods for destroying every fortress or other stranglehold unless it has been founded upon a rock or so forth.  4. I have also types of cannon, most convenient and easily portable, with which to hurl small stones almost like a hail-storm; and the smoke from the cannon will instil a great fear in the enemy on account of the grave damage and confusion.  5. Also, I have means of arriving at a designated spot through mines and secret winding passages constructed completely without noise, even if it should be necessary to pass underneath moats or any river. 6. Also, I will make covered vehicles, safe and unassailable, which will penetrate the enemy and their artillery, and there is no host of armed men so great that they would not break through it. And behind these the infantry will be able to follow, quite uninjured and unimpeded.  7. Also, should the need arise, I will make cannon, mortar and light ordnance of very beautiful and functional design that are quite out of the ordinary.  8. Where the use of cannon is impracticable, I will assemble catapults, mangonels, trebuckets and other instruments of wonderful efficiency not in general use. In short, as the variety of circumstances dictate, I will make an infinite number of items for attack and defence.  9. And should a sea battle be occasioned, I have examples of many instruments which are highly suitable either in attack or defence, and craft which will resist the fire of all the heaviest cannon and powder and smoke.  10. In time of peace I believe I can give as complete satisfaction as any other in the field of architecture, and the construction of both public and private buildings, and in conducting water from one place to another.  Also I can execute sculpture in marble, bronze and clay. Likewise in painting, I can do everything possible as well as any other, whosoever he may be.  Moreover, work could be undertaken on the bronze horse which will be to the immortal glory and eternal honour of the auspicious memory of His Lordship your father, and of the illustrious house of Sforza.  And if any of the above-mentioned things seem impossible or impracticable to anyone, I am most readily disposed to demonstrate them in your park or in whatsoever place shall please Your Excellency, to whom I commend myself with all possible humility. Return to Florence, then France In 1489, Leonardo secured a long awaited contract with Ludovico and was honored with the title, “The Florentine Apelles,” a reference to an ancient Greek painter revered for his great naturalism. Leonardo returned to Florence when Ludovico was deposed by the French King, Charles VII. While there, Leonardo would meet the Niccolò Machiavelli, author of The Prince and his future patron, François I (who ruled France from 1515-47). In 1516, after numerous invitations, Leonardo traveled to France and joined the royal court. Leonardo died on May 2, 1519 in the king’s chateau at Cloux. Leonardo’s Death and the Changing Status of the Artist Vasari, who wrote Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects (1550), had this to say about Leonardo's death: Finally, having grown old, he remained ill many months, and, feeling himself near to death, asked to have himself diligently informed of the teaching of the Catholic faith, and of the good way and holy Christian religion; and then, with many moans, he confessed and was penitent; and although he could not raise himself well on his feet, supporting himself on the arms of his friends and servants, he was pleased to take devoutly the most holy Sacrament, out of his bed. The King, who was wont often and lovingly to visit him, then came into the room; wherefore he, out of reverence, having raised himself to sit upon the bed, giving him an account of his sickness and the circumstances of it, showed withal how much he had offended God and mankind in not having worked at his art as he should have done. Thereupon he was seized by a paroxysm, the messenger of death; for which reason the King having risen and having taken his head, in order to assist him and show him favour, to then end that he might alleviate his pain, his spirit, which was divine, knowing that it could not have any greater honour, expired in the arms of the King. (Vasari) This story is a good indication of the changing status of the artist—Leonardo, who spent the last years of his life in France working for King Francis I, was often visited by the King (remember that the artist was considered only a skilled artisan in the Middle Ages and for much of the Early Renaissance). In the High Renaissance, in contrast, we find that artists are considered intellectuals, and that they keep company with the highest levels of society. Quite a change! All of this has to do with Humanism in the Renaissance of course, and the growing recognition of the achievement of great individuals. Artists in the Early Renaissance insisted that they should be considered intellectuals because they worked with their brains as well as with their hands. They defended this position by pointing to the scientific tools that they used to make their work more naturalistic—the study of human anatomy, of mathematics and geometry, of linear perspective. These were clearly all intellectual pursuits! Leonardo da Vinci, Portrait of a man in red chalk (self-portrait), c. 1512, red chalk on paper (Biblioteca Reale, Turin) Look closely at this self-portrait. Isn’t it clear that Leonardo thought of himself as a thinker, a philosopher, an intellectual? Leonardo's Naturalism Ancient Greek physicians dissected cadavers. The early church’s rejection of the science of the classical world, along with the possibility of bodily resurrection led to prohibitions against dissection.  Both Leonardo and Michelangelo performed them—probably exclusively on the bodies of executed criminals.  According to his own count, Leonardo dissected 30 corpses during his lifetime. Essay by Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker Titian—A Pastoral Concert Farewell, peoples and cities. The countryside will offer delightful displays for my eyes. —Jacopo Sannazaro, Elegies, Book 1, Poem II, line 24 I know that then my verses will appear/ unpolished and dark, but I hope that even so/ they will be praised by the shepherds in these woods./ . . . And that which I sing now the springs and streams will recite along the valleys, murmuring/ with their far-shining crystal waters. / And the trees that I now consecrate here and plant/ whispering will make answer to the wind. —Jacopo Sannazaro, Arcadia, Eclogue 11, lines 130-140 An intimate moment On a shady hillside overlooking sunny glens and a distant mountain vista sits a fashionably-dressed young man with long, dark locks, a full-sleeved red and black garment, and bi-colored stockings. As he plays his lute, he turns attentively to his companion, a young man with unruly hair and bare feet wearing a simple garment of coarse, brown fabric. Though their faces are in shadow, the intimacy of this moment is palpable. The two lean toward each other, their heads almost touching. The lute-player gazes toward his companion who looks down, listening to the music that resonates in the air between them. They are the center of the composition, oblivious to all else around them. Titian, Pastoral Concert, c. 1509, 105 x 137 cm (Louvre) But they are not alone. Seated close by and forming part of their intimate group is a nude woman holding a wooden flute, her back turned toward the viewer. To the far left stands another nude woman. This one turns away from the group in an elegant contrapposto as she prepares to pour water into a stone well, perhaps fed by the sparkling stream visible in the middle distance, just behind her to the right. Bright, impasto dabs of white paint describe both the small waterfall created by this stream and the reflections on her glass pitcher.  [Explain contrapposto] The Pastoral Concert (also known by its French titles, Fête champêtre or Concert Champetre) has long been recognized as a masterpiece of Venetian Renaissance painting; it has also sparked much debate regarding both its authorship and its subject matter. Often attributed to Giorgione, most scholars now favor an attribution to Titian. This fluctuation of attribution is not surprising given Giorgione’s influence on the young Titian, who worked closely with Giorgione early in his career and even completed Giorgione’s Sleeping Venus upon the latter’s untimely death in 1510. Giovanni Bellini, Young Woman at her Toilette, 1515, oil on wood, 78.3 x 62.9 cm (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna) Giorgione laid the groundwork for Titian both in terms of subject matter and technical innovations. Giorgione was the first Venetian to move away from the highly polished application of oil glazes of his teacher, Giovanni Bellini (see the image below). Giorgione, and Titian after him, embraced the tactile potential of oil painting, applying it with varied densities, at times allowing the weave of the canvas to show through and at others building up the surface with thick impasto.  [Explain glazing and impasto] Standing nude (detail), Titian, Pastoral Concert, c. 1509, 105 x 137 cm (Louvre) The rougher texture created by this technique endows the forms in the Pastoral Concert (see the nude at the left for example) with a certain haziness or sfumato which has the effect of softening forms and thus effectively conveying both the tactile softness of the nudes’ flesh and the ephemeral, soft light of late afternoon.  [Explain sfumato] Debates about the subject matter The debates about the painting’s authorship, however, pale in comparison to the debates about its subject matter. Who are these figures? Why are the men clothed and the women nude? Why do the young men not acknowledge their female counterparts, despite their proximity and their nudity? What circumstances brings them together in this manner? These questions have puzzled art historians for centuries and have resulted in many attempts to secure specific identities for the figures. These attempts consistently disappoint and serve ultimately to highlight the painting’s ambiguities and its resistance to a single fixed interpretation. The most successful interpretations are not those that attempt to identify a particular narrative or specific characters, but those that see the painting as the visual equivalent of a pastoral poem. Painted poetry Pastoral poetry (which originated with the Idylls of the ancient Greek poet Theocritus) extols the rustic world of the simple shepherd. It celebrates the physical, sensory beauty of the natural world—it speaks of shady forests, gurgling brooks, lowing herds, and gentle breezes. Musical contests between shepherds are a common motif in pastoral poetry, which is often tinged with melancholy as the contestants sing of lost loves and deceased comrades. The contestants frequently call upon the Muses for inspiration and, when blessed by them, create music of such power and beauty that even the woodland nymphs emerge to listen. Like so many aspects of ancient culture, pastoral poetry also witnessed a revival during the Renaissance as poets vied to emulate their ancient Greek and Roman predecessors. A key figure in this revival was the poet Jacopo Sannazaro (quoted at the top of the page), whose popular poem Arcadia was published in Venice in the first decade of the 16th century. Its narrator is a poet from the city who sets aside his lofty aspirations of writing heroic epics and achieving success among cultured city dwellers in order to enjoy the purity and simplicity of the shepherds’ rural existence. He listens to their songs of love and loss, and is inspired to create his own pastoral poetry. Titian's painting alludes to this hierarchy of poetic genres by juxtaposing the lute—a sophisticated instrument capable of producing complex harmonies, with the primitive pipe—the shepherd’s favored instrument. Rather than illustrate a particular scene from a pastoral poem, Titian visualizes the mood and motifs of this genre. As in Sannazaro’s Arcadia, the lute-player is a cultured city dweller, perhaps even a member of the Compagni delle Calze(the Companions of the Stockings)—a fraternity of wealthy Venetian youth known for their fashionable attire and for organizing elaborate entertainment (including music and poetry) for aristocratic weddings. Here he has retreated beyond the city visible in the background to the idyllic world of the pastoral poet. Left: Poetry, right: Music, Tarocchi, c. 1465 (from the area of Ferrara), engraving with traces of gilding (National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.) In this imaginary world, each woodland locale, each stream and cave has its own spirit, or nymph. Perhaps the women are the nymphs who embody the spirit of the place, or the muses who inspire the poet, or personifications of Poetry and Music. In a north Italian set of Tarocchi (Tarot) cards, the personification of music (above right) holds a musical pipe, as does the personification of poetry (above left). The latter, notably, also pours water from a pitcher, presumably from the fountain into the stream in front of her. This fountain represents the waters of inspiration that originate on Mount Parnassus, the realm of Apollo, god of music and poetry, and his nine Muses. The women may not be visible to the young men, but their presence is felt in the beauty of the poet’s song. Seated figures (detail), Titian, Pastoral Concert, c. 1509, 105 x 137 cm (Louvre) A Venetian genre The Pastoral Concert exemplifies a distinctly Venetian invention focused on the idyllic landscape populated by gods and goddess, nymphs and satyrs, shepherds and peasants. Introduced by Giorgione and developed in the works of Titian and other Venetian artists, this genre became one of the most important artistic contributions of Renaissance Venice—its impact lasting far into the 19th century. In its conception, it reflects the dictum “ut picture poesis” (as is poetry so is painting)—a central principle in Renaissance art theory, upheld by artists as evidence of the intellectual status of their art. The comparison with poetry placed emphasis not on painting’s manual production, but on the conceptual activity of the artist’s mind. The creation of the visual equivalent of poetry—in which the artist draws on a variety of sources but ultimately creates something original—was one of the reasons Titian attained international fame later in his career. His poesie (as he called them) were coveted by patrons near and far, including the king of Spain. Such paintings were produced for the private collections of discerning and educated patrons who understood the evocative, poetic subject matter. The Pastoral Concert was familiar enough in theme to be identified with a particular poetic genre, but elusive enough in details to invite contemplation and conversation. It thus provided a form of recreation that served as a visual and mental retreat for the patron—much like the one experienced by the painting’s fashionable lute player. By looking at the painting and reflecting on the poetry it called to mind, the patron could—at least momentarily—escape to the countryside to enjoy the sights and sounds of the shepherd’s world. Essay by Dr. Esperanca Camar ]

The growing rejection of Panofsky's thesis has occurred without a thorough analysis of its implications or value, which neither Panofsky himself nor his followers provided. Because Panofsky's book diluted his original concept in presenting disguised symbolism as a general characteristic of early Netherlandish painting, the potential implications of his intuitions for an understanding of Van Eyck's symbolism have never been fully recognized. The present study follows Panofsky's earliest approach to disguised symbolism in considering both its meaning and expressive effect. But an attempt will be made to provide an analysis of the function of symbolic disguise, one that takes into account the kind of symbolic complexity discussed in Panofsky's book and that identifies hitherto unnoticed symbolic relationships in Van Eyck's work. It will be argued that the visual effect and the symbolic meanings were designed by Van Eyck to be as inseparable as possible and that disguising symbols was a deliberate strategy to create an experience of spiritual revelation. This was achieved by using certain configurations of symbols that, when their significance is discovered, appear to enact the meanings they symbolize.

…

In Early Netherlandish Painting, written two decades later, although he continued to focus his analysis of disguised symbolism on the pictures of Van Eyck, Panofsky upgraded his concept to the status of a fundamental tendency of fifteenth century Netherlandish painting, with precursors as early as the Trecento.7 Symbols were now said to need disguising in response to the increasingly naturalistic depiction of space and light, which had made the presentation of explicit symbolic images no longer credible. Panofsky's language suggests that the disparity was resolved by replacing traditional symbols with analogous objects more suited to the depicted context-such as the substitution of the ewer and basin in Campin's Merode Altarpiece for the "well of living waters"—a strategy that also made them less readily apparent as symbols. But the primary purpose of the disguise was said to be the reconciliation of symbolic meaning and naturalism, not intentional concealment from the viewer.

…

But although the examples of disguised symbolism identified in Panofsky's book seem to demand active decoding rather than quiet fascination, he offered no revision of his earlier account on the effect on the viewer. His focus on symbolic complexity tempted scholars to search for further symbol, while the purpose and effect of the symbols' disguise remained un- explained and vulnerable to the multiple attacks directed against it. These challenges have come from scholars with diverse views. On one side the possibility of disguised symbolism is questioned. It is said that the symbols were all familiar to fifteenth-century viewers and appear disguised to modern viewers only because the meanings became lost." A more recent attack from the other side argues that most fifteenth- century viewers were not acquainted with the subtleties of church doctrine, since attendance at Mass was infrequent and most religious paintings of the period were painted primarily to provide intense, mystical experiences or as a plea for a particular benefit from God or a saint, ranging from eternal salvation to the granting of a child. These scholars doubt that any complex disguised symbolism would have been com- prehensible to the donors, or to most viewers, of religious paintings. They regard the more complex level of symbols discovered in these works as the inventions of modern scholars out of tune with fifteenth century Netherlandish experience. In short, one side contends that the symbolism could not have been disguised because it was so familiar, whereas the other side argues that complex disguised symbolism would not have been used because it would not have been recognized or understood. Both sides join in questioning the purpose of disguising whatever symbolism they recognize as present.

In contesting the existence of disguised symbolism, critics generally ignore rather than attack the explanation use given by Panofsky in Early Netherlandish Painting disguised symbolism resulted from the effort to reconcile traditional symbolic meanings with the greater naturalism achieved by fifteenth-century painters. Most of the objections appear to be raised against the implication, never actually stated in Panofsky's book, that the symbols' disguise is meant to conceal their meaning from some or all viewers. Many critics of the concept would probably agree to the use of the term "embedded" to characterize much of the easily interpreted symbolism—such as Old Testament scenes with familiar typological meanings, carved on column capitals or thrones that are set into the pictorial space. Embedded symbolism may be obvious to one familiar with the culturally assigned meanings once the symbolic objects or details are noticed, but capable of being initially overlooked because the images are relatively small, in the background, or in shadow. By contrast, other items continue to function in fifteenth-century Netherlandish pictures as explicit or overt symbols, by their foreground position, which declares their significance—as does the position of wheat and flowers in Hugo van der Goes' Portinari Altarpiece—by their proximity to a saint, or by being flagrantly inappropriate to their context—as is the ox in the study in Rogier van der Weyden's St. Luke Drawing the Virgin.

…

…The position argued here is that…Van Eyck had a specific purpose for symbolic disguise: to delay rather than to prevent recognition; that he wanted any viewer who made a sustained effort to contemplate his pictures and who combined a general familiarity with the Christian doctrine of salvation with some knowledge of traditional symbolic imagery initially to overlook, and eventually to discover, much of the symbolism; and that, given the complexity of symbolic relationships in Van Eyck's pictures and strong evidence of his desire to create works in which, as Panofsky wrote, "all reality is saturated with meaning," over interpretation is less of a danger than overlooking some of Van Eyck's devices to create a reality in which the spiritual can be glimpsed through the material. The function of most of these pictures as an aid to meditation made it advantageous for Van Eyck draw no firm line between specifically intended meanings and those projected on the work by viewers—so long as they continued in the spirit of the more clearly intended meanings.

…

The thesis advanced here is that, in addition to making use of overt symbols and easily recognized embedded ones, in six of his most important paintings Van Eyck devised symbols to be discovered only during the process of prolonged meditation, with the intention of producing an experience of mystic revelation. I contend that symbolism of this kind, although it had some precursors and influenced a few works, was the product of a relatively short-lived attempt by Jan van Eyck to push the medium of oil painting to its limits in trying to make spiritual meaning immediate and vivid. Whereas Panofsky and his followers have been attacked for reading into Van Eyck's paintings a complex program of symbols, it is my claim that the symbolic intricacy is even more complex than previously sup- posed-but also that the symbolism is conceived primarily in visual terms that provide the means for its disguise and, paradoxically, offer the best proof of its presence in the coherence and expressive power they contribute.

Disguised symbolism as understood in this article is not used to restrict its audience to a few initiates, schooled in the more recondite doctrines and symbolic imagery of scholastic writers. Rather it is used to transcend the limits of visual description in two ways. The first method is to delay awareness of underlying meanings to produce a more vivid experience upon recognition-as if the picture revealed to the meditating viewer a glimpse of a profound spiritual meaning beneath the material reality. The effect is not one of de- ciphering hieroglyphs, but of witnessing the picture spontaneously transform itself. Not all of Van Eyck's symbols operate at this level; he also employed the more usual kinds of overt and embedded symbols. The three levels are not sharply separated, but shade into one another. This interaction contributes to the second purpose of disguise: to invite the viewer to discover meaning at ever-deeper levels and to remain always in doubt whether the full meaning has been discovered.

…

That Van Eyck's symbolism requires careful observation to recognize is in keeping with the painstaking specificity of his work. The change in Christ's gesture affirms that the symbolic interplay was largely the creation of the artist and was revised in the process of painting in response to the expressive possibilities of the evolving image, rather than being a translation of a pre-arranged program. … On the other hand, if the visual interactions discussed here were not designed as expressive symbols, the artist, usually so knowledgeable, inventive, and meticulously observant, must be seen as unable to design the simplest narrative interaction coherently or to color flowers accurately.