CONTEMPLATING SPIRITUALITY IN PIERO DELLA FRANCESCA’S ART Iain McKillop
INTRODUCTION
Piero della Francesca does not seem at first the most obvious Renaissance artist to choose choice for spiritual contemplation. The works of Fra Angelico and Donatello look as though they contain more sensitive humanity, Michelangelo more vigorous emotion, Giotto and Duccio more simple Christian narrative content, Bellini more obvious warm, contemplative feeling. Piero by contrast seems slightly more cold, austere, cerebral and intellectual; he was rigorous and methodical in his art. But his work has a magnetic and hypnotic quality that often draws us into examining it. Viewing his paintings has often made me want to explore deeper and discover the mysteries and ideas within them. For me this is especially true of the Resurrection, Baptism, Nativity and Senigallia Madonna. If one’s spirituality includes devotion to Mary the Madonna del Parto and Polyptych of the Misericordia would be included. The meaning of Piero’s art is not as easily explicable or visible on the surface as some other images designed for devotion. As with Christian spirituality itself, there always seems something just beyond your grasp. Perhaps Piero’s art could be is closer to the apathatic aspect of spirituality than more accessible narrative Christian art or more obviously sentimental devotional images.
Piero worked for a variety of secular patrons with intellectual aspirations, and foundations of different religious orders. All of these had a variety of spiritual, material and political backgrounds or agenda. So the ideas in his work often reflected those as well as his own intellect and spirituality. He approached his work with intellectual rigour transforming the intentions of his patrons into his work. As a result he possibly reflects the overall spirituality of his age more than many other Italian Renaissance artists of his generation.
Artists throughout time have conveyed spiritual content and meaning in a plethora of ways. Renaissance religious art suggests aspects of spirituality in a wide variety of ways, including:
Choice of subjects, which was usually the decision of those commissioning the work and their advisors.
Telling a story (Giotto, Duccio, Gaddi);
Making a spiritual scene seem physically real (Giotto, Masaccio, Mantegna, Caravaggio, Donatello);
Elegance of line, form and colour (Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Perugino, Raphael);
Heroic monumentality (Masaccio, Uccello, Michelangelo);
A sense of setting the work in an ancient classical past (Mantegna, Pisanello) ;
Use of multiple visual symbols (Botticelli, Crivelli, Carpaccio);
Use of classical allegory to represent spiritual ideas (Botticelli, Mantegna);
Extreme realism (Leonardo, Caravaggio);
Elongation to make figures seem more spiritual (Late Michelangelo and Mannerism);
Mystery of light and chiaroscuro (Leonardo, Caravaggio);
Humanity and psychological insight into characters (Donatello);
Symbolism of colour and form (Duccio, Masaccio, Botticelli, Michelangelo).
Most artists used a combination of many of these and more; Piero della Francesca employed most of them. Like all of these mentioned above, there is an individuality about his work, which captures certain essences of spirituality, and this is what I intend to explore in this study. His figures often have a supra-real monumentality and static dignity of gesture, which make them appear more than simply human. His compositions are so carefully arranged that the scenes seem designed to convey significance. The precision of geometry and mathematics in composition and form also suggests that the underlying structure of his compositions is intentionally significant. He fused a fascination with mathematics, optics and linear perspective with classical thinking and the religious understanding of his time. His colours are often restrained, quiet, elegant and carefully balanced, encouraging contemplation of the image. His settings make the scene seem to be set in his contemporary environment, yet the subjects are seen through a visionary and historic lens.
Normally art-historians spend time rightly researching the attribution, context, symbolism, style influences and many other aspects of a work in order to analyse and understand it. I attempt to do that in this study. Yet in the case of the majority of Piero’s work, few precise facts are agreed upon by his many commentators. Even the dates, chronology, original owners or patrons of many of the paintings, or their original intention and setting are uncertain. So it is hard to be completely sure of facts when one analyses them. Different scholars have disagreed broadly over attribution, date, iconography and interpretation for about one and a half centuries, since Piero began to be rediscovered after centuries of obscurity. New documentation may still be discovered in Renaissance archives but much that has been uncovered so far often raises many questions, as well as presenting a few new details. To interpret Piero’s paintings often entails recognising that several potential contexts and meanings are possible. It is frequently necessary to not over-stress or affirm one precise reading in order to appreciate and comprehend other possible aspects of the work, just in case the interpretation is incorrect. A similar attitude should apply to spiritual contemplation of the works. One should keep in mind their possible contexts, history and intention, yet reach beyond these to try to find how they might speak to us today.
In this long study, I intend to attempt to draw-together and clarify the various interpretations and suggestions that have been offered by scholarship. But I will also suggest ways to combine or reach through the various contexts to explore their meaning for the modern contemplative. Authentic spirituality and a true approach to God must be made via an attempt at truth. If we are seeking God we must apply honesty and truth. However, in cases where we cannot be absolutely certain of what is true we can often approach truth by applying reason and intuition carefully. This is how we often approach reading scripture, attempting to comprehend aspects of God, assessing facts and traditions and experiences within faith, despite all the mysteries. There are no empirical proofs for Christian belief, spirituality, or even for interpreting past history. Our knowledge of most things, including science, is fragmentary. If we needed to be certain of all things before we felt we could learn from and through them, we might never believe or rely on many things. We interpret the mysteries in art in similar ways to approaching scripture and faith:
learning from looking at it carefully;
exploring its subject and any narrative;
thinking through any symbols contained within it;
formally analysing what we are reading, thinking or seeing,
examining its history and the traditions behind it;
imagining what it might have meant to the artist, patrons, and those viewing or using it in the artist’s time,
examining how it has been interpreted since etc.
applying reason;
applying our creative imagination to fill in gaps in knowledge;
using our former experience an intuition;
responding with our feelings and sensitivity;
applying the meanings we find, or the senses we feel to contemporary understanding and our present situation.
Ultimately, however, what a work of art comes to mean to us often depends largely on the initial feeling that attracted us to stop and look at it, and how certain aspects that we discover in it stimulate our thoughts or implant themselves in our memories. Intuitive responses to both art and spirituality can be true. It is possible for them to become even more significant than reasoned ones. We should always aim to be true in our interpretation rather than travel into realms of fantasy. Truth requires us to approach a work by applying reason and understanding traditions as well as using our intuition, imagination and experience broadly.
PIERO’S LIFE
Not many certain facts about Piero are known, despite a number of documents relating to him having been unearthed since the search for details about him began in the late 19th Century. Piero’s biography is almost as full of questions as his paintings are full of mysteries. His life, movements and work on commissions have been pieced together mostly from references in legal documents and the traditions relating to his few extant works. These comprise about 16 painted commissions and three treatises, which contain no personal references. Vasari’s details about Piero’s life in the second edition of Lives of the Artists are often vague. Although he and Piero came from the same town and he must have known his works there at first hand, Vasari’s primary aim was to champion Florentine art, of which he considered Michelangelo’s creativity the divinely inspired pinnacle. This may be why Vasari downplayed the achievements of Piero in all but geometry and mathematics. Vasari attributed inventions in perspective more to Uccello’s work in Florence and the move towards realism to Masaccio and Donatello, while regarding Piero’s style as rather primitive by comparison.
Piero was probably born at Borgo San Sepolcro near Arezzo (now called ‘Sansepolcro’); he certainly regarded it as his hometown. The consensus of critical opinion has been that his birth was sometime between 1415 and 1420. Vasari dates his birth as 1406 and others calculate that it may have been about 1410. If he was born c1410 that would allow more time for him to have become established as a trained painter before he was first recorded as working alongside the relatively minor artist Antonio d’Anghiari in Borgo San Sepolchro in 1422 (unless Antonio was his teacher). He may have trained under Antonio while he was working in San Sepolcro before working with, or being apprenticed to Domenico Veneziano in Florence c.1435. (Domenico is recorded as having been assisted by a ‘Pietro di Benedetto dal Borgo a San Sepolcro’ in records of the Sant’ Egidio choir frescoes for Santa Maria Nuova, Florence in 1439, and this reference is presumed to be to Piero della Francesca.)
Borgo San Sepolcro, about 70 miles from Florence, had about 4,000 inhabitants at the time of Piero’s birth. It only became a city in the C16th. The Upper Tiber Valley itself, in which the town sits, is beautiful, and is seen in the background of several of Piero’s paintings. The city was legendarily founded by Saints Arcano and Aegidius (Egidio) who were supposed to have brought back to Italy a stone from the sepulchre of Christ, after which to town gained its name. Legend told that Arcano and Aegidius were guided to a clearing where it became clear that they should found a religious settlement. The stone was set in a religious relic around which a monastery developed, which became a site for pilgrimage. Around this the town developed and gained wealth not just through pilgrimage but its links with Florence and its surrounding state, (though it was hostile to Florentine political dominance and rebelled against it). Borgo San Sepolcro was at a crossroads in the Upper Tiber Valley on busy trade routes which ran through Tuscany and the Apennines to the Adriatic ports. The town developed a strong religious tradition, partly through housing the relic of the rock of Jesus’ tomb, and becoming a popular place of pilgrimage. But also because a number of religious figures became associated with the place. The town claimed to have been Christian from its foundation and was called by some a ‘New Jerusalem’ and a holy site, since the two founding saints were legendarily supposed to have been told in a dream that this clearing, in a wooded landscape, was the place, to found the shrine for their relic. St Francis was also believed to have received a vision outside the walls of the town and other saints and significant religious figures (mentioned later in this study) were closely related to Borgo San Sepolcro.
Piero’s father Benedetto de’Franceschi was originally recorded as a leather-merchant, a trade which may have included a shoemaking and leather-dressing. He raised his family’s status through buying and selling fine leather goods and trading in plant dyes. Merchants like Piero’s father did not necessarily specialise, but often offered a variety of services, including repair, manufacture and provision of materials for artisans. His family the Francesci (also sometimes referred to in documents as Francesca) also became dyers, harvesting ‘guado’ / ‘dyer’s rocket’ which was ground and formed into cakes produced indigo for dying cloth, a local industry controlled by Florence. Their home since the mid-1300s had been within the walls of the town, in the Via Borgo Nuova. It is thought that Piero was the eldest son of his mother Romana di Perino da Monterchi. He had three surviving brothers (one illegitimate); two became merchants and one became a Camaldolesian Friar. His mother had lost two other sons in infancy. His one sister married a classical scholar. The Camaldolese were the most influential religious order in Borgo San Sepolcro at the time, with several confraternities and it is probable that Piero was later associated with one, which commissioned work from him. Confraternities consisted of clerical and lay members who shared spiritual commitments, met together for teaching and worship, often in their own chapels in the church with which they were associated, and were committed to works of charity and support of the church. Piero himself is not recorded as ever having married.
Wealthy families usually sent their sons to church schools or Latin schools; merchants often sent their sons to ‘abacus schools’, primarily non-religious educational establishments, which taught the commercial side of mathematics. Borgo San Sepolchro may not have had a permanent abacus teacher at the time, but relied on itinerant teachers. Piero’s education seems to have been primarily in mathematics before turning to painting; he certainly grew to love and develop it in his treatises. Though several of his paintings contain Latin inscriptions, it is not thought that he mastered Latin to any great extent, as his treatises were translated into Latin by others, from originals which he wrote in the vernacular. Piero’s sister married a ‘Master of Grammar’, Francesco Rigi del Borgo and by the end of his life Piero’s treatises used Latin more frequently, which could be due to his influence. We do not know with whom Piero gained his significant training in mathematics. Through his second cousin in the Vatican he may have later acquired a copy of Companus of Novara’s mid C13th translation of Euclid, which he quotes in his treatises, and a copy of Archimedes geometrical works. Borgo San Sepolcro produced several famous mathematicians like Luca Pacioli (who collaborated with Piero at a later date in Urbino) and Franco di Benedetto Cereo.
According to Vasari, Piero turned to painting at about the age of 15. Prior to this he probably helped in his father’s merchant business while learning at abacus school. Through the art materials sold as part of his father’s business he may have encountered artists who influenced his decision to become apprenticed to a painter. The town is registered as having two goldsmiths, but no artist s’ guild. We do not know where Piero trained to become an artist. Perugia in Umbria and Urbino in the Marches (where Gentile da Fabriano died in 1427) would have been the closest obvious centres. In 1432 Piero is recorded as working with the painter Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, but historians are unsure whether he was an already trained artist or Antonio was his master. Artistic apprenticeships lasted many years so he may still have been training at the time, or just expanding his experience through working alongside a more experienced artist.
1430 was a key date in Piero’s home town of Borgo San Sepolcro. Its rulers for over a century had been the Malatesta family from Rimini, who had walled and fortified the town. In 1430 they lost control of the town to the Pope, Eugenius IV, who had defeated the Malatestas. This brought Piero and the painter Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, commissions to paint papal arms to be displayed on the gates of the city and processional flags. By 1442 the Pope had handed Borgo San Sepolcro on to be governed by Florence, as part of his payment for the expenses of the Council of Florence. The reforming Camaldolese order to which Piero’s brother belonged and was an abbot between 1428 and 1448 would have been happy with neither the overlord-ship of the Pope nor humanist Florence.
June 1431 is the recorded date of Piero’s first small commission. He painted a candle and candle holder for the Confraternity of Maria della Notte, for the Corpus Christi procession in Borgo San Sepolcro. This was a good time to be setting up as a painter. The rise of the middle classes, including merchants and bankers, meant a rise in patronage and the commissioning of artefacts for the home and as gifts for churches. As a locally known artist in a town without a painters’ guild, Piero would have been expected to be able to turn his hand to designing anything from objects to be carried in processions, furnishings, objects for use in the home or church, or painting and sculpture.
1432 Piero, at approximately the age of 17-21, was working with the older painter Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, since in 1433 Antonio paid Piero’s father Benedetto 56 florins for Piero’s work up to June of the previous year. If Piero had been apprenticed to Antonio at the time, Piero’s father would more likely have been paying Antonio apprenticeship fees, rather than being paid. If Piero was at an age where he was now trained, this may have been the start of his work as a professional painter, as a few historians suggest. Others conjecture that Benedetto been loaning money for the purchase of materials for work on the huge polyptych altarpiece for the main altar of St Francis’ Church in Borgo San Sepolcro. Whether painter or apprentice, as Piero was still relatively new to the profession at this date, it is probable that he was only doing the less important work of preparing panels, applying layers of gesso, grinding and mixing paints etc., pouncing or drawing out the composition from the master’s cartoons, or entrusted with painting simple parts of the commission. This was a long commission; in 1430 Antonio had been paid by the Franciscans to begin the work. As there was no master painter living in Borgo San Sepolcro at the time the friars had probably called in Antonio, whose town was about 5 miles south of Borgo San Sepolchro on the route to Florence. Antonio had moved his large family to Borgo San Sepolcro in 1430 and received several commissions from other local patrons: first coats of arms of Pope Martin V for the city gates, followed later by the arms of Eugenius, flags and banners for the civic festival, a mural of the ‘Seven Labours of Mercy’ for the façade of the headquarters of the Confraternity of San Bartolomeo, decorations for the chapel of the Confraternity of Sant Antonio and the façade of their Palazzo Laudi. He may have employed the recently trained Piero as an assistant in his workshop, to help with these burgeoning commissions. Whatever the case, Piero would have learned much by working alongside the more experienced artist. But Antonio had overstretched himself. He failed to put sufficient work into the commission for the Franciscan polyptych, for which he had originally been paid, and was thrown off the commission in 1437, moving on with his family to settle in Arezzo. The Franciscan commission was eventually taken over and completed by Sassetta.
c 1437-8 With the end of his work with Antonio d’Anghiari, it is thought that Piero travelled to or moved to Perugia where he came under the influence of Domenico Veneziano (Domenico di Bartolo) with whom he worked for the Baglioni family on now-lost frescoes and a triptych for Santa Giulia.
1439 Piero was in Florence working with Domenico on frescoes of the Life of Mary in the chapel of Sant’Egidio, for the hospital of Santa Maria Nuova, Work on these had begun early in 1439. The records of Santa Maria Novella provide the earliest precise date for Piero, as on Sept, 7th 1439 records of payment to Domenico include the words “Piero di Benedetto from Borgo San Sepolcro is with him.” However Piero’s involvement in the commission was replaced by the more established painter Bicci di Lorenzo. This date was a week before the end of the Council of Florence, so Piero would have seen the large contingent of Greek clerics in the city, perhaps even the Greek Patriarch Joseph and the Byzantine Emperor John VIII. Their costumes are found in several of Piero’s later pictures.
1440 Borgo San Sepolcro sided with the Milanese forces when they passed through the Upper Tiber Valley on the way to Florence and attacked the Florentine and papal forces near Anghiari. Their attack was routed (as represented in Leonardo’s lost Florentine mural of the Battle of Anghiari). After this Florence and the Pope became more suspicious of the town and opposed Borgo San Sepolcro. Its leaders were held as political prisoners. This began a commercial decline in the city after a prosperous period in the 1430s. This may be one reason why Piero moved north from Borgo San Sepolcro for large parts of his career during the next 15 years.
1441 The Pope gave Borgo San Sepolcro to Florence as part of his payment of 2,500 ducats for the Council of Florence. The town became a vassal of Florence.
1442 Piero was back in Borgo San Sepolcro, where he is recorded as a ‘citizen’, which meant that he was among three hundred men eligible to perform official tasks, sit on the town’s popular council or act as a civic magistrate.
1445 The contract for the Polyptych of the Misericordia was drawn up. This was Piero’s first dated major commission. It was a large altarpiece for the chapel of the Confraternity of the Misericordia of Borgo San Sepolcro. The contract was due to be finished by 1448, but it overran by about 17 years (to 1462) because Piero moved off to various commissions for important patrons elsewhere and left much of the work to assistants. This caused frustration for the Confraternity but the delay was also due to the patrons being notoriously slow in payment.
1445-50 Piero was working in Ferrara and the Marches.
1447 Piero he was working with Domenico Veneziano on the Sacristy of the Loreto Sanctuary Church but plague cut short the commission.
1448 He was called to Arezzo to help complete the frescos of the Legend of the True Cross in the Church of San Francesco as Bicci di Lorenzo had been taken ill. Bicci had been commissioned in 1447 to paint the frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross, perhaps to encourage pilgrimage to Arezzo in readiness for the Jubilee Year in 1450.
c1445-1448 Piero probably first developed links with Federico II da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino. Around this time his work was beginning to be known by courts around Italy, including Mantua, Ferrara, Urbino, Ferrara and Rimini.
Between 1448 and 1450 or soon after, he was working in Ferrara. Vasari claims that Piero worked on frescoes for Borso d’Este (Estense Castle) at Ferrara, but these had been demolished by the time Vasari wrote. The Ferrara court was in a period of change, with the rise of a new leader. In Ferrara Piero also received commissions for Sant’Antonio Church from Lionello d’Este. In Ferrara he may well have seen Rogier van der Weyden’s Deposition with its significant gestures and learned from the techniques of realism in Northern European art, which was beginning to be popular in Northern Italian collections. He would also have encountered the work of Alberti, Niccolò Baroncelli, Antonio di Christofano and the Sienese painter Andrea Maccagnino, even possibly Jacopo Bellini. Some critics believe that Leon Battista Alberti may have introduced the work of Piero to Federico II and may have been the artist’s guarantor. The scholarly atmosphere of the Ferrara court had influenced Alberti’s writing of his treatise on the art of building, so it may have also influenced Piero’s writing of his Treatise on the Abacus. The treatise was however dedicated to the Pici family of Borgo San Sepolcro, who commissioned the Polyptych of the Misericordia.
c1450 Piero produced his Treatise on the Abacus.
1450 Piero’s first definitely dateable painting, the small Berlin St Jerome in Penitence.
1450 was a Jubilee Year for the Church and it is thought that Piero may have visited Rome for the Jubilee, though probably not for work. There he would have encountered Ancient Roman statuary and architecture first hand, rather than through its copyists in Florence, Perugia and elsewhere
1451 He moved to Rimini to work for Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta. The Gothic church of San Francesco was being renovated to a more classical design following the fashionable aspirations of the Malatesta family. He painted the fresco of Sigismondo Malatesta Kneeling Before St. Sigismond and later a portrait panel of Sigismondo.
About the same year he may have been working on the central panel of the Baptism for a triptych.
1452 He returned to Arezzo to complete work on the frescoes of San Francesco and the choir ceiling decorations, as Bicci di Lorenzo’s illness, then death in 1452 had left it unfinished. Piero completed the frescos in about 1455. Piero at this time had almost completed the first stage of the Polyptych of the Misericordia and may have also been working on the Baptism.
1454 Commission for the Polyptych of St. Augustine, 4th October, on which Piero worked from c1460-69.
1455 Piero was recalled to Borgo San Sepolcro to complete work on the Polyptych of the Misericordia.
c1455 Flagellation of Christ.
c.Autumn 1458 to late 1459 Taking a break from his commissions in Arezzo and Borgo San Sepolchro, Piero travelled to Rome to work on frescoes in Santa Maria Maggiore and rooms for Pope Pius II. (Pius II was elected on 19th August 1458). By this time Piero had his most talented assistant working with him, Signorelli, and probably took him with him to Rome. Rome was now more stable after the return of the Papacy and was encouraging increased artistic patronage. The call to the papal court may have been influenced by Francesco da Borgo (also known as Francesco da Benedetto Bigi), Piero’s second cousin once removed who was a clerical scholar and architect working in the Vatican. (Later, in 1468, Francesco fell out of favour and was executed for stealing from the papacy). Also among the papal circle was member of the Bicci family, who sponsored the Arezzo frescoes. Pius II was a poet who supported humanist scholarship and promoted classical culture, including the translation of Greek scientific texts. We are unsure of Piero’s work in the Vatican as Pope Julius II had one room transformed into the Stanza d’Eliodoro, redecorated by Raphael sixty years later. In Santa Maria Maggiore Piero produced ceiling frescoes of the four evangelists, though only St. Luke survives. He experimented with an innovative harder and smoother form of plaster, made with a paste of pulverised marble, to help him paint in greater detail.
1459 Piero returned to San Sepolcro after hearing of his mother’s death on 6th November. He probably left assistants to complete his work in Rome, as he does not appear to have returned there.
On his return from Rome, and perhaps influenced by his movement in humanist circles there, Piero worked on his second treatise ‘On Perspective for Painting’ / ‘De Prospectiva Pigendi’.
c1460 or c.8 years earlier Portrait of Sigismondo Malatesta
1460ff Polyptych of St. Augustine
1464 Small payment from the Confraternity of the Misericordia, Borgo San Sepolcro.
1464 His father died and Piero and his brother Marco settled the family property.
1466 Contract for an Annunciation Banner for Arezzo.
1468 When Plague hit San Sepolcro Piero moved to the village of Bastia, five miles away, where his family owned property. It delayed some of his large projects but there he completed the banner of a supposed ‘plague saint’ commissioned for an Arezzo confraternity and probably completed the St. Augustine Polyptych,
1469 Final payment for St Augustine Polyptych.
1469 Piero lodged in Urbino with the painter Giovanni Santi, father of Raphael (born 14 years later in 1483). It is thought that Piero was originally called to work on an altarpiece that had been started by Paolo Uccello, who had only completed the predella panels, However the altarpiece was completed by the Flemish artist Justus of Ghent. Instead, Piero became involved in several projects for the ducal court of Federico da Montefeltro. From about 1468 the Palazzo Ducale underwent much architectural remodelling and redecoration to reflect Federico’s increasing status and aspirations. Piero may have been involved in advising on this with other intellectual members of the court. Piero was to remain in contact with the Montefeltro court for many years. In 1472, Piero was commissioned to paint the Uffizi Diptych, a oil double portrait of the duke, (in his 50s) and his wife Battista of the Milanese house of Sforza (age 29) who had recently died after giving birth to her 9th child Guidobaldo. He may have used as models her death-mask or a marble sculpture. Federico and Battista are painted in profile, partly to resemble ancient coins and renaissance medallions, but also because Frederico had lost an eye in a jousting tournament 22 years earlier. On the reverse of the panels he painted an allegorical Triumph procession, based on Petrarch. They are accompanied on their chariots by the Virtues. Federico rides with the four Cardinal Virtues: Justice, Prudence, Fortitude and Temperance; Battista is accompanied by the three Theological Virtues: Faith, Hope and Charity. Federico then commissioned the Montefeltro Altarpiece, which is thought to have been intended for the prince’s tomb.
c1469-4 Montefeltro Altarpiece.
c1470 Piero dedicated his Treatise on Perspective to Federico da Montefeltro.
c1472 Piero was back in Borgo, as he was a member of a commission appointing a doctor for the Borgo San Sepolcro commune.
c1472 Nativity for the Franceschi Chapel in Borgo San Sepolcro Duomo.
1474 Fresco for Madonna Contessina in a Badia chapel (now lost).
He was also a member of a committee responsible for the fortifications of Borgo San Sepolcro
1474 f. He and his brother Marco begin to purchase land, probably as a form of family security. Marco may have acted as an agent for Piero, perhaps taking over from his father.
1475 Polyptych of St. Anthony.
1475-8 Senegallia Madonna
1475 Piero was elected as a community councillor in Borgo San Sepolcro.
1478 Payment to Piero for an exterior fresco of the Misericordia (unknown)
.
1480. 1481, 1482 Piero was a member and prior of the Confraternity of the Priors of St. Bartholomew.
1482 Rented a house in Rimini.
After 1482 Sometime after the completion of the Montefeltro Altarpiece Piero had begun his third treatise: ‘The Little Book on Five Regular Solids’ / ‘Libellus de Quinque Corporibus Regularibus’, perhaps encouraged by the scholar Ottaviano Ubaldini and regent to Federico’s young son Guidobaldo. In 1482 Federico died and was succeeded by Guidobaldo, to whom the work was dedicated, with the request that it be places with his Treatise on Perspective in the Montefeltro library/.
1487 Piero’s will was signed and dated.
By the end of his life he may have lost his sight as Vasari and a few other documents suggest, though Vasari seems to have exaggerated the early onset of his blindness, as he was writing clearly at the age of seventy-five.
1493 Piero must have returned to Borgo San Sepolcro as he died there in 1493 on 12th October and was buried in the family chapel in the Badia.
1494 The Sansepolcro-born mathematician Luca Pacioli, who had worked on mathematics alongside Piero at the Montefeltro court, published large sections of Piero’s Treatise on the Abacus and the whole of Piero’s ‘Libellus de Quinque Corporibus Regularibus’ under his own name as ‘Summa arithmetica’. He did the same with Piero’s Treatise on Perspective as ‘Divina proportione’ in 1509. Leonardo da Vinci provided the drawings for some of the woodcut illustrations.
PIERO’S RELIGIOUS CONTACTS.
Although Piero produced much work for churches, his spiritual and philosophical ideas probably developed as much through his secular as his ecclesiastical patrons. Due to the divisions in the papacy early in his career, much of the development of theological and philosophical thought had developed within secular courts. As humanist learning advanced it was discussed and expanded through the scholars and advisors in the circles of nobles. Much advanced thinking occurred in these groups and secular court libraries collected significant ancient classical and recent manuscripts. The taste for collecting artworks, artefacts and literature also expanded, often through rivalry for prestige between different courts. Moving between the various families of Borgo San Sepolcro, Urbino, Rimini, Ferrara, Padua and Rome for commissions, Piero would have gleaned understanding of philosophy and theology from a broad range of thinkers and various perspectives, which became focused into his work.
Early in his career in Florence at the time of the Council of Florence in 1439 Piero would have seen a wide variety of clerics from different parts of Christendom, as well as encountering the many established religious houses and monasteries un the city which were commissioning artworks from a burgeoning number of artist’s workshops. (The Council of Florence is also sometimes known as the Council of Ferrara, as it began there but felt forced to move after military and political threats.) The Council’s negotiations were attempting to reconcile the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic Church. This ultimately failed in many of its aims, but it encouraged greater understanding of the theological viewpoints and discussion of the sources and traditions with divided them doctrinally and politically. Piero would have seen richly robed Greek clerics processing through the streets, particularly on religious feast days. Some believed that the style of the Greeks’ robes dated back to biblical times, hence Piero’s inclusion of them among the figures in the Baptism of Christ and the Flagellation. Florence underwent a revival of Greek cultural influence at the time and in the years that followed. The Florentine friar Ambrogio Traversari, head of the Camaldolese order, to which Piero’s brother belonged, had been creating the first translations of the works of the Greek Fathers. This greatly influenced the development of Renaissance theological thinking. (I have discussed his influence on Fra Angelico in my study of that artist on my website). At the time of the Council, Traversari guided several of the Greek visitors through the complexities of western liturgy and traditions, defending some from the bureaucracy and legalism of the authorities of Florence and Rome. Traversari also encouraged the growth of Platonist mysticism, which included Greek ideas about the mystical value of mathematics. While the geometry in Piero’s paintings reflects this esoteric and symbolic use of numbers, proportions and geometrical shapes, his treatises are more practical in their discussions and calculations. As well as Traversari, the scholar Giovanni Tortelli similarly enthused over secular Greek authors like newly discovered works by Sophocles, and discussed the relationship between nature and art in Plato and Aristotle. The contemporary historian Flavio Biondo, who was involved in the planning of the Council and its events, traced links between Greek members of the Council back to Constantine and the founding of the Church. (Piero appears to have adopted this assumption, as he included figures dressed in contemporary Greek robes in his Arezzo cycle of the Legend of the True Cross.)
Through the thinking of his time, Piero imbibed the humanist understanding which was developing among the religious institutions and humanist scholars at the courts for which he worked. (The term humanism as used in the Renaissance is different from the meaning of the term today. Our contemporary use of the word implies the centrality and prioritising of human thinking, secular reasoning and human life over spiritual issues. Renaissance humanism was concerned with the reconciliation of human and spiritual thinking and accepted the validity and links between thinking and religion.) Piero worked in a humanistic atmosphere influenced largely by Neoplatonism in which people were attempting to reconcile Christian theology and thought with Greek philosophy and ancient scientific principles. Plato’s ideas of the soul, transmigration of souls, the forms by which the world and cosmos were created and the spiritual world, were combined with the ideas of many other classical thinkers. Previously unknown ancient manuscripts were being discovered, translated, and applied to Christian belief in an attempt to deepen understanding of the material and spiritual world and the truths that undergirded creation.
The Papal court at the Council of Florence became keen on developing Greek ideas and from 1439 the influence of Platonism on Italian theology grew, as the scholarship devoted to them increased. Many newly discovered Ancient Greek manuscripts were imported into Italian libraries from the Byzantine Empire, and some Greek scholars moved to Italy to teach both the language and Greek thought. The world of reality was considered to consist of both the physical, which can be perceived, and the transcendent, which the senses cannot perceive but which is intelligible with the mind. In Ferrara Piero may have met the Platonist scholar and teacher of Greek Giovanni Aurispa, who collected ancient Greek manuscripts. In Ferrara Piero would also have seen the influence of classicism on the architecture of the city, which was not far from Padua, with its classical ruins. In Urbino, both in the Montefeltro court and the households of other collectors and scholars like Vespasiano da Bisticci, he may have had access to rich libraries of books, as well as meeting figures like Alberti and the architect Laurana,Donato Bramante. His extended stay in the city would have increased his contact with humanist learning.
Mathematics, which fascinated Piero, came to him through the Greek writings and ideas of Euclid, Pythagoras, Archimedes, Plato, Aristotle and others. For the Platonist-influenced theologians, mathematics was believed to be a way of exploring physical and spiritual forces within the complexity of the created world. Piero’s interest in mathematics would not have just been practical. Number was thought by Pythagoras to be a principle and ruler of all the forms and ideas created by the gods. Plato believed that the Creator used numerical proportion, including, the golden ratio, to order the cosmos and design the material world. All the elements of the world were thought to be composed of solid geometric shapes: pyramids, cubes, tetrahedrons, dodecahedrons etc. Certain proportions and geometric shapes were considered more beautiful, satisfying and appropriate. So mathematics was believed to contain mystical meanings, as well as being of practical use in daily life, for counting, calculating, surveying land, designing architecture, ordering materials, as well as laying out the design of buildings, sculptures, panels and paintings. In religious houses (particularly through the teaching of the Franciscans and Dominicans, mathematics was regarded as a ‘divine science’. The Dominican scholar and theologian Antonio Pierozzi who became archbishop of Florence preached about the morality and divine nature of optics. Through often working for Franciscan patrons Piero would have discussed commissions with the intellectual members of the order, as well as other patrons. For all of them the mathematics of his paintings would have increased a sense of the spiritual significance of his works. In the arts, the influence of Greek philosophy led to the belief that our imaginations and the creation of beauty developed from the interaction between the human finite mind and the infinite divine mind.
In Rome, working at the court of Pius II, Piero would have encountered eminent theologians who were significant in the revival of Greek philosophy. Piero’s second cousin once removed. Francesco da Borgo, clerical scholar and architect working in the Vatican was a trusted part of the scholarly court until executed for stealing from the papacy. Francesco had gathered a substantial personal library of classical texts and it may be through him that Piero obtained his copies of Archimedes’ texts. Before becoming a monk, Pius had been a poet laureate who modelled much of his work on classical literature. As Pope he supported humanist scholarship and paid for the translation of Greek scientific texts. He promoted Greek scholars like the German cleric Nicholas de Cusa (Cusanus) and the Greek cleric Basilius Bessarion. Cusanus, a cardinal since 1448, had already been involved in the classical revival in Padua. While Pius was away from Rome at the Council of Mantua, attempting to raise a crusade against the Ottoman Turks, Cusanus, already a leading theologian at the Vatican, was appointed vicar-general of the papal territories. Basilius Bessarion was appointed as dean of the College of Cardinals. Bessarion was appointed as protector of the Franciscan Order and had attempted to unite the Latin and Greek churches at the Council of Florence to combat the threat from the Ottoman Turks in the East. Bessarion also supported the Platonic Academy in Florence. Cusanus, by comparison was suspicious of drawing parallels or gradations between human ideas, imagination and beauty and the divine. He believed that the infinite was beyond such parallels, while recognising that we reflect divine ideas and beauty in our human dimension. He had a keen interest in the arts and spent time discussing with artists, so he may well have talked with Piero while he was working in Rome. Both Cusanus and Bessarion regularly gathered thinkers in various fields to discuss ideas, as well as influencing the stipulations for commissions. Although Piero was probably only an amateur in philosophical circles they seem to have strongly influenced his approach to his subjects and the composition and design of his paintings. Artistic harmony and geometric clarity were thought to be able to reflect or convey a sense of spiritual harmony and the divine principles within the creation of the cosmos.
Piero’s family’s contact with the spirituality of the Camaldolese Order would also have encouraged the intellectual meaning behind his work. Although they were a reforming order, who were inevitably suspicious of pagan aspects within the influence Greek philosophy on Christian theology, they encouraged an intellectual exploration of the world, scripture and spirituality. Traversari defended the truths which were to be found within non-Christian writings. Camaldolese thinking also encouraged Christians to look into nature and look for the presence of the Creator within Creation. This led to a greater emphasis on naturalism within the art commissioned for the order. This may have encouraged the greater naturalism that Piero put into his figures and the details of his landscape backgrounds, as it influenced Filippo Lippi in his ‘Madonna of the Forest.
ARTISTIC INFLUENCES ON PIERO
Bordo San Sepolcro cathedral’s Resurrection Altarpiece was by a Sienese artist, and Sienese art had influenced much of the development of art in the in the town up to Piero’s time. Piero may have visited Siena and seen the work of Lorenzetti, Simone Martini and Duccio. Perugia too was only 40 miles away or Assisi 50 miles south, but essentially the main initial influences on the early development of Piero’s work were probably those he encountered in or through Borgo San Sepolcro. The amount of influence of Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, the first artist with whom Piero is recorded as working in 1431, is debated, as we cannot be sure whether he was apprenticed to him or working with him.
Domenico Veneziano, with whom Piero was working in Florence in 1439, was only a few years older than Piero, so Piero was most probably not his apprentice. He had been born in Venice and trained in Rome, so would have introduced Piero to ideas from wider artistic traditions. In Florence Domenico may have introduced Piero to his own teacher Pisanello who was also in Florence at the time of the Council of Florence. Piero certainly displays some of the realism, attention to detail and references to classical artefacts of Pisanello. In Florence he would also have seen the work of Fra Angelico, Masaccio, Donatello, Ghiberti, and others, including probably Alberti’s treatise on painting. Alberti was also at the Ferrara and Urbino courts during Piero’s time there. Ghiberti apparently introduced him to the names of painters of antiquity, which he later included in his treatise De Prospective Pingendi. Domenico gradually moved from a more International Gothic style to a greater realism, including direct observation from nature and experimentation with the effects of light and colour, which were to become strong in Piero’s work.
In Mathematics, Geometry, Optics and Perspective Piero obviously had contact with the writings of Euclid’s Optics, Alberti On Perspective, which was dedicated to Brunelleschi. He had also seen it in practical use in the works of Masaccio and Ghiberti’s reliefs for the bronze doors of Florence Baptistery, and could have met Alberti, in Florence, Ferrara or Urbino, as they were both there at the same time (1439; the 1440s and 1470 respectively). In Ferrara Alberti was writing his treatise on building: De Re Aedificatoria between 1444 and 1452 under the patronage of Lionello d’Este. He had already published his treatises on Painting and Perspective.
In Ferrara Piero may well have seen the northern work of Rogier van der Weyden whose work was collected in the court from the late 1440s. This may have influenced his use of landscape backgrounds as well as his turn to experiment with oil painting. A few critics even suggest that he may have met Rogier van der Weyden there and observed his techniques, or learned them in another northern workshop, but this seems unlikely. If he know a Northern European artist it is more likely to have been the Flemish artist Justus of Ghent, who worked for the Duke. The use of oil made Piero’s later works more luminous and glossier than his former works. He was early among Italian painters in experimenting with oil painting in the 1450s and 60s. It is found in the finishing of the Misericordia Polyptych and later in his career Piero combined oil with tempera and fresco paintings, using the oil paint to create greater brilliance and luminosity as the final layer of his works. Later in his career Piero used oil exclusively for his portraits and the majority of work on the Montefeltro Altarpiece is in oils. In Urbino Piero may also have seen the works by Jan van Eyck.
Piero’s interest in the use of light was probably influenced by a growing contemporary interest in optics. John Pecham’s Perspectiva Communis was available in Latin, if Piero had a facility in the language, or he could have known of its teaching from the intellectual circles in which he worked. It discussed the science of optics and the behaviour of rays of light. Alberti’s Treatise on Painting had also discussed the effects of light and its variations; it also advocated the depiction of figures in authentic architectural space, which Piero adopted. In his Flagellation, Arezzo frescoes and Montefeltro Altarpiece he developed this to the full, applying the theory of perspective and optics to the creation of settings based on the architecture of cities like Perugia and Ferrara. He also incorporated ideas of the ‘ideal city’ which were developing in both architecture and the art of creating a political and social utopia.
CHARACTERISTICS OF PIERO’S STYLE
Piero worked for a wide variety of different patrons, so the spiritual meaning in the works probably reflects the particular spirituality of the various people or institutions commissioning the works, rather than simply Piero’s own approach to his subjects. However, there is a harmony in his work and in the spirituality which the paintings evoke, which suggest that Piero had assimilated the requirements of the patrons with his own intellectual and spiritual understanding. The variety of his approaches to the patrons’ requirements is most apparent in private commissions like the frescoes for Sigismondo in Rimini, the Montefeltro Altarpiece, the Senegallia Madonna and probably the Flagellation as well as more institutional commissions like the Legend of the True Cross and his polyptyches. In each of these works the character or preoccupation of another seem to be influences on the new ways that Piero chose to represent traditional subjects. In his altarpieces the characteristics of the religious order commissioning the work undoubtedly influenced the choice of subjects, but also the ways in which they are represented. Franciscan politics and the local secular families financing the work influenced the frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross and the saints chosen for the Altarpiece of the Misericordia. The elaborate liturgical and teaching ideas of the Augustinians influenced the splendour of the St. Augustine Polyptych, though only a few panels survive. The love of nature of the Camaldolese, and their interest in the healing and spiritual qualities in plants probably influenced the naturalism of the detail in the plants of the Baptism of Christ. Piero combined understanding of these and many other characteristics with his own personal intellectual rigour and care of execution to create the peaceful monumentality and spiritual reflection in his works.
There is a quietness, harmony and confidence in Piero’s work, which links it to Alberti’s conception of beauty and harmony in the unity, variety and balance of elements in a picture. Part of this harmony is related to the geometrical arrangement and ideal proportions of his compositions. Plato believed that our recognition of beauty relates partly to our subconscious memory of the essences or ideal forms of the metaphysical or spiritual world, with which we compare our present perceptions. (The precise term ‘subconscious’ is however a more modern concept.)
There is an un-showy, almost detached spirituality in much of Piero’s work. Unlike the later works of the Counter-Reformation, he rarely if ever show figures in spiritual rapture, but the separateness of his religious figures implies that the devotion of heaven is different from human spiritual devotion. In his fresco of Mary Magdalene she stands confident and slightly aloof, but with a commitment to those for whom she is making intercession. The quietness and careful intervals between figures in most of his paintings (even the massed figures in the frescoes of Legend of the True Cross, make them feel deliberately arranged for harmony and reflection. It is also clear that behind the composition is a complex geometry, which for Piero probably contained a mystical meaning as well as satisfying his fascination with mathematics.
Significant gestures and poses are importance within Piero’s paintings. The hands of Mary Magdalene in the Noli Me Tangere or the predella of the Polyptych of the Misericordia convey her emotion. (Though probably painted by Piero’s assistant Giuliano Amadei, the predella paintings were probably designed by Piero). The gestured of John and Jesus in the Baptism of Christ convey blessing and spiritual confidence. The figure of Christ stepping from the tomb in the Resurrection shows confidence and offers the security of renewed life. The strong confident poses of the figures in the Legend of the True Cross offer assurance of faith and security in the concept of salvation offered by the story. There is a seriousness about his images emphasised by the composition, substance of the subjects, effects of light and gravity of his figures, which suggest the seriousness of the meaning and theology of the paintings
Piero learned from Domenico Veneziano the technique of gaining realism by drawing the naked figure before clothing it with drapery. Domenico had in turn learned this from Pisanello. Whereas late Gothic painting created a non-real world with gilded, tooled and patterned or stylised backgrounds. Piero created a more realist visual environment for his figures. This must have been partly influenced by his contact with Northern-European art, but also grew from the move towards greater naturalism in Florentine art especially.
We have no notebooks or witness statements which explain Piero’s methods, but from the evidence of the Baptism of Christ it appears that Piero quickly became a methodical artist, who planned his works meticulously and could continue projects over several years. From the pouncing visible in the figure of the angel, it appears that he used cartoons. The simplicity of his images belies the obvious complexity of his works.
Piero idealised the landscape in his paintings, yet rooted them in the Tuscan landscape. His landscape seems influenced by his knowledge of the works of Gentile da Fabriano and Lorenzetti in Sienese works. Mirroring a scene in water beneath excavated banks may have been learned from Bono da Ferrara. However, with his interest in optics Piero made his reflections much more precise, as in the St. Jerome in Penitence or the Baptism of Christ. The light in Piero’s paintings was probably influenced by the brightness of the Tuscan Valley. He explored the effects of light in different ways from Leonardo, seeming not to be as interested in the emotional effects of shadow as on the creation of the form of objects. He explored the effect of light on armour, glass or crystal, the hemispherical curve of an alcove, creating the form of an egg, shining through particles of dust,
Because Piero was intent on the correct perspective of his paintings, the relative proportions of figures in his works sometimes seem unusual. In former times the most important figures in a scene, particularly the most important religious figures, were rendered larger than less significant ones. In Piero this seems sometimes reversed, because of the cleverness of his compositions. In the Flagellation Jesus is far smaller than the onlookers in the foreground; in the Resurrection the soldiers are slightly larger than the risen Christ. An exception would seem to be the seated Mary in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. Federico Montefeltro in the foreground is the largest figure, but Mary, if she stood, would be far taller than John the Baptist and the evangelist who stand in the same plane. This reversal of old traditions of painting design may be deliberate. By making the focus of some of his compositions less deliberately on the main figure (usually of Christ or Mary), Piero managed (intentionally or unintentionally) to create a greater sense of mystery and mysticism in the scenes. He makes us think more about the meaning of the narrative, rather than presenting the viewer with a simple obvious image, which we might not contemplate in such great depth.
Piero’s figures and compositions are rigorously planned. He does not seem to have drawn much simply by chance or intuition, though it is unlikely that he drew most of his figures using the precise methods of construction that he demonstrated in his treatise of the leaning head in perspective. He often repeated figures in his paintings, sometimes using or reversing the cartoon prepared for another scene. The figures are not copied exactly; they often have variations of colouring or finished detailing. Perhaps once he had found a figure that suited his meaning he was happy to use it elsewhere. This implies that the cartoons used for certain works remained in his workshop for the use of both himself and his assistants.
It was common for Renaissance artists to have their subjects, symbolism, iconography, colours and compositions dictated in detail by patrons. The artist was the servant of the patron, even when admired for their genius or after the re-invention of ‘Academies’ brought them greater autonomy and prestige. For ecclesiastical and noble commissions individual vision was not as important as the overall philosophical idea intended by the advisors of the patron. However, Piero seems to have been intentionally trying to impress his patrons by taking the scene, ideas and compositions into more intellectual and complex ideas than might have been expected from other jobbing artists. He also painted with extreme skill and precision of technique. This is seen particularly in the precision with which people today are able to reconstruct the perspective in scenes like the Flagellation. Piero seems to have been as careful over his painting technique as he was over the preparation of his panels and his perspective. Apart from a few minor damages to the Montefeltro Altarpiece and an area of distortion that caused damage around the eyes, his oil-painting technique was long-lasting. His experimentation with plaster made from ground marble as a ground for frescoes also enabled him to paint in precise detail.
RELIGIOUS WORKS BY PIERO DELLA FRANCESCA
POLYPTYCH OF THE MISERICORDIA Sansepolcro, Pinacoteca Communale.
1445-47 then completed c1460 Tempera on panel. Overall dimension c.273 x c.323 cm.
Piero’s family connections may have helped him gain this commission for the chapel or meeting hall of the Hospital of the Confraternity of Santa Maria della Misericordia, Borgo San Sepolcro. The church itself was fairly small, administered by the Franciscans, though it was enlarged towards the end of the following century, certainly by 1620. The Confraternity of the Madonna of Mercy was a group of lay and clerical men devoted to local charitable work and religious devotion. Many historians believe that Piero may have been a member of the confraternity, to which his family certainly had close ties. For several generations members of his family had bequeathed money to the Confraternity and in the 1440s three of Piero’s brothers were recorded as actively involved members. This could account for such a major commission going to a newly emerging artist. The confraternity was composed largely of wealthy merchants, including the main patrons, the Picci/Pichi family, who were to provide the main funding for the commission. The confraternity had previously commissioned work on the altarpiece from other artists but encountered difficulties in developing the commission. This may partly be due to the patronal family’s delays in providing the promised finances, which was also to prove the case for Piero. In his will of 4th September 1422 Urbano di Meo Pichi bequeathed 60 gold florins for the creation of an altarpiece for the high altar of the church of the Misericordia. In February 1435 Guido di Nero Pichi left 50 florins for the chapel for an altarpiece for the confraternity. In 1428 a carpenter, Bartolomeo di Giovanni began to build a frame designed by Ottaviano Nelli for the altarpiece, which was delivered on July 15th 1430. It appears that Nelli himself began the panels, but his work may have been considered insufficient or left unfinished as the commission was transferred to Piero. The commission for Piero to paint the altarpiece was agreed on 11th June (or July) 1445. Vasari mentions that in 1478 the confraternity had commissioned a fresco of the Madonna of the Misericordia from Piero for a fee of 87 scudi on a wall between the church and the hospital. He was probably referring to a lost fresco but there is a possibility that his source was mistaken and he might have been referring to this commission for the polyptych.
We know that the majority of men of social standing in Borgo San Sepolcro belonged to religious confraternities. The inclusion of men and women beneath the robes of the Madonna suggests that pious women may also have been involved in the confraternity’s activities. The members’ commitment to faith motivated them to privately and communally give money and be actively involved in the support of the poor, sick and dying. Charitable activity could be done anonymously, as represented by the man beneath Mary’s cloak, who wears a black hood to shield his identity. It is known that some charitable work by prominent citizens was undertaken wearing such masks. Presumably this anonymity was encouraged by the biblical injunction that we should not let the right hand know what the left hand is doing’.
The confraternity members would have attended mass celebrated in the presence of this altarpiece. The Crucifixion at the pinnacle of the polyptych and the scenes of the entombment and resurrection in the predella give spiritual focus to Christ’s sacrifice. The confraternity’s insignia ‘MIA’ is represented in a roundel at the base of both end piers adorned with a crown with a cross surrounded by florettes.
We cannot be sure of the original arrangement of the panels or their number. The Polyptych was dismantled sometime in the 17th Century and reassembled in a heavy baroque frame. The Confraternity retained it until the institution was suppressed and dissolved in 1807, when the painting was removed to the church of San Rocco.
In 1901 it was transferred to the Pinacoteca Civica where it now hangs. It was restored several times between 1892, the early 1950s then 1959-60. Restoration in 1971 showed that the panel of the Madonna was originally taller, reaching the crucifixion panel above, the panels in the upper tier were also taller and wider and the panels in the piers have been cropped. At present the polyptych comprises 23 panels, with 32 figures excluding the large number of figures in the predella scenes. Some historians think that a whole tier of figures may have been removed. Unusually, not all the figures are painted on separate panels; John the Evangelist and St. Bernardino are painted on one large panel. The original composition may have been similar to the arrangement of Masaccio’s polyptych at Pisa.
The contract for the commission dictated that “the images, figures and adornment will be expressly detailed by the above Prior and Council.... gilded and coloured with fine colours, especially ultramarine azure.” This may perhaps indicate that the background was intended not be gilded in the late-Gothic manner, but have a more realist background. However the background of the saints was gilded, though more lightly patterned than in many altarpieces. The gilding, as with icons is often done before the painting of the figures, so the present gilding was undoubtedly intentional. As well as adding to the richness of the altarpiece, the gilding provides a contrast with the strongly modelled figures. The gold gives the effect of a uniform light around all the figures and allows the eye to contemplate each figure separately, in order, rather than just take in the whole.
Piero commission was agreed on 11th June (or July) 1445. Its detail stipulated that he should complete the paintings on his own, without assistance. Piero was given 3 years to complete the work and was responsible for checking it, maintaining and repairing it for a period of 10 years after its completion. However it was 17 years before he eventually completed the work, for which the final payment was made to his brother Marco in 1462. The details of the imagery for the commission were to be agreed later. The Pichi family possibly delayed payments. Piero certainly moved on to other commissions, as an injunction of 14th January 1454 demanded his return to Borgo San Sepolcro within 40 days to complete the work. It is probably that at this time the figure of St Bernardino was added to the commission, due to his recent canonisation.
The idea of a polyptych like this was probably to emphasise the spiritual protection on which the worshipper, intercessor or community could rely. The figure of Mary is dominant, surrounded by saints whose identities were relevant to the confraternity and the local community. They were augmented above and below by scenes from the life, death and resurrection of Christ, shoes saving work was the source and inspiration of the saints and the Church. Theologically, figures of Mary and the saints focus on the work of Christ in salvation, as represented in the Crucifixion panel and the predella scenes of Resurrection. The saints are witnesses, intercessors and focuses to Christ’s redemption being the source of our security. In an altarpiece they also represent the communion of the Church on earth with the company of heaven. They are ‘the saints triumphant’; we share communion on earth as ‘the saints militant’. Those who shared in the Eucharist before this altarpiece were being reminded that worshippers are united with all who worship and are blessed in earth and heaven.
In the Roman Canon, the Eucharistic rite most common in the 15th Century Church, the consecration was followed by a prayer naming a long list of saints, apostles and martyrs on whose behalf and in whose presence the congregation celebrated the Mass. The polyptych physically represented this. The emphasis on the number of locally relevant saints, particularly the Madonna implies that in praying before this altar, the intercessor is asking for the mediation and prayers of the host of saints represented here. It is not just a representation of any of the host of heaven, the ‘great cloud of witnesses’ which surrounds us [Heb.12:1], but particularly those related to the local worshipper’s condition. The Franciscan friar Bernardino had died in 1444 and was canonised in 1450, so his inclusion in the programme of the altarpiece was probably a later consideration in the commission. St. Bernardino, as the most recently canonised saint may perhaps have been included at the last minute because it was believed that he could offer extra strength as an intercessor, similar to the way that people request a blessing from a newly ordained priest. It is thought that he may have replaced an original intention of representing St. Francis as a main figure. Francis as a result was relegated to the side panels in the pillars.
The figure of Mary at the centre of the altarpiece is less usual. When the altarpiece was in place in the church, this ‘Mater Misericordia’ / ‘Mother of Mercy’ would have been positioned directly above the priest celebrating the Mass. She seems to be intentionally represented as an emblem of the Church offering bounty and protection to people, particularly her faithful devotees. The saints around her represent other pillars of the Church, teachers and martyrs,
The commission from the Compagnia della Misericordia demanded that no other artist was allowed to work on the panels other than Piero: “No other painter can put his hand to the brush except the said painter himself.” However the demands and delays in the commission may have caused a change in this expectation. The sixteen main panels of figures are by Piero. But the predella panels appear to be by another hand, possibly by a workshop assistant identified as Giuliano Amadei from Cimaldoli, who collaborated with Piero from either 1446 or 1456. Piero was allowed three years for the commission, but it took much longer and was not delivered until after 1455. Despite the length of time in completing the work, its style and particularly its iconography are unified. Piero was paid 150 florins of which 50 were paid in advance, as Piero was to be responsible for buying all the panels. This was a relatively low price for a master painter around the same time; the going-rate would have been between 500 and 1500 for such work. This may have been low because of the acknowledged miserliness of the patronal family. Piero probably accepted the commission on these terms because of the prestige of such an important work being offered to a young artist early in his career. (I did the same with the commission for the Lady Chapel Altarpiece for Gloucester Cathedral.) As Piero was in many ways very organised in his undertaking of commissions, he may have deliberately delayed completing this polyptych because the Pichi family delayed their payments. The delay in completing the polyptych frustrated the patrons, and in 1455 the Pichi family tried to sue him for its completion, demanding that he return to the town and completion of the work by Lent.
The polyptych panels include:
Crucifixion This and the scenes of the predella are relevant to the town of Borgo San Sepolcro’s name and dedication. This panel is one of Piero’s most emotional paintings and may have been influenced by Masaccio’s Pisa Crucifixion.
St. Sebastian The wounded saint was regarded as a protector from plague and other epidemics. He was invoked in the Laud Book / ‘Laudario’ of the Confraternity of the Misericordia. His naked figure is more realistic in anatomy than many contemporary figures. This saint is particularly related to the healing work of the hospital of the Misericordia. His wounds may also be related to the activity of the flagellants within the confraternity. Bernardino’s work as a healer, the Madonna of the Misericordia’s protection and the Church’s protection may also be related to St. Sebastian.
John the Baptist John was one of the patron saints of Borgo San Sepolcro. He was a key martyr, pointing to the salvation available to us through Christ’s self-sacrifice, depicted in the Crucifixion scene above.
Madonna of the Misericordia
The figure of Mary has a monumentality and emotional seriousness that reflects Piero’s later work. He obviously put much thought and concentrated effort into this central panel. Mary has the shaved forehead which was popular in sophisticated urban fashion at the time, forming a high forehead. This may be intended to suggest that her mind is focused on God, as in Orthodox icons. She wears the crown of the Queen of Heaven, surmounted by a halo, viewed in perspective. Her form is robust; elegant but strong, broad-hipped, with a heavy neck, more like a youthful peasant woman than elegant representations of refined Renaissance ladies. She is strong enough to carry the intercessions of God’s people, and in Roman Catholic theology, strong enough to be a mediator of salvation and support and example of the Church. Apart from her crown and brooch, she appears simply dressed. Her plain, knotted rope belt implies here virginity, yet is also in the form of a cross, reminding us of her son’s death, bringing the salvation of which Mary was believed to be a mediator. Though of the same size as the other saints on her tier of the altarpiece, Mary is almost double the size of the figures sheltering beneath her robe. This denotes her spiritual significance and influence. The discrepancy in proportions is far less than in many other extant depictions of the subject, perhaps demonstrating Piero’s move towards realism.
The image of Mary is iconographically similar to images on several Aretine Misericordia altarpieces, like that by Parri Spinelli in Santa Maria degli Angeli, Arezzo (1427), which Piero would probably have seen. Venetian ‘scuole’, which were similar confraternities to those of Borgo San Sepolcro, also displayed devotional images of the ‘Mother of Mercy’, either as paintings or reliefs. Piero could certainly have seen the 14th Century fresco of the same subject in the Florence Confraternity of the Misericordia [in the Bigallo, Florence]. The majority of such depictions contain far more figures sheltering beneath Mary’s cloak. By focusing on just eight devotees, Piero may have been deliberately or unintentionally encouraging a more intimate feeling of protection, where the viewer identifies with the characters included. With Mary they also add up to 9 figures - a sacred number composed of 3 x 3, perhaps indicating that the confraternity are attempting with Mary’s help to represent the Trinity authentically within their society.
The geometry of the panel is based on a square and a semicircle. In geometric symbolism these could represent the earthly realm surmounted by the circle of heaven, though of course we have no definite information that this was Piero’s intention. Mary’s shoulders meet at this intercession. Her brooch, which resembles a bishop’s morse, is at the apex of an equilateral triangle of the width of the square, with its base at Mary’s toes. Mary’s hands are on the line of a reverse equilateral triangle from the upper corners of the square to Mary’s toes. The geometry could be intended to suggest that Mary is a mediator or intercessor between the two realms of heaven and earth, or the meeting place where heaven and earth met in her Son. As with Piero’s Baptism of Christ, the rounded arch of the panel marks a transformation from the traditional pointed panels of Gothic altarpieces towards the revival of classical forms in Renaissance works. However, the gold background, which was probably a demand of the commissioners, shows this to be just a transitional phase on the move towards naturalism. As well as being a traditional echo of the gold in icons and mediaeval art, gold backgrounds accorded with Thomas Aquinas’ idea that the spiritual realm is one of eternal light.
Mary’s robe embraces the smaller figures below. This lack of naturalistic proportion is very different from Piero’s later work where figures are of the same size. Here the figure of Mary seems more monumental, probably to emphasise her iconic spiritual status. The figures kneel on a platform, drawn in perspective, which meets at a vanishing point just above the eye-level of the figures, perhaps at Mary’s womb. Unlike traditional Misericordia images, they gather in front of her body, facing her beneath the cloak, rather than beside and behind Mary, forming a circle with her. The imagery may represent the idea that, as she ‘tabernacled’ Christ in her womb, she can now aid in the protection of his followers. The figures may represent various symbolic types, implying that Mary can offer protection for the whole of humanity. They are grouped as four men on Mary’s right and four women on the left. The fact that they are represented against the gold background surrounding Mary implies that these ordinary human beings are raised in importance and significance by the divine setting. They share in the Communion of the Saints. Some critics have suggested that they were actual recognisable figures from the Confraternity of the Misericordia, as they are well-dressed and devotional. It is assumed by several critics that the worshipper beneath Mary’s cloak on the right, with his head thrown back and foreshortened is a self-portrait of Piero himself. This figure reoccurs as a soldier in the Resurrection. There is no proof of this, but it may be that he used himself as a model, although a famous drawing from his treatise on Geometry demonstrated how he managed to work out how to represent a very similar head in perspective. It is not unusual for Renaissance artists to occasionally represent themselves within scenes. Botticelli and Raphael certainly did, but here it seems rather immodest to represent oneself so clearly as a doer of good.
Most images of the Madonna of Misericordia do not include the figure of the Christ-child. Mary herself is seen as a protective figure, which would be heretical if she was not regarded as being one who focuses others towards Christ. She points to him having taken human form to bring about redemption. Mary was also partly regarded as a representative of the Church in protecting, illuminating and nurturing spirituality. This again would be heretical if the focus of our devotion is upon the Church rather than on God, as the role of the Church is to direct people away from itself towards the divine. If Mary, as a representation of the Church, is being shown as conceiving, nurturing and protecting believers, she and the surrounding saints are all present with the congregation as prime examples and models of true discipleship.
As the priest, in celebration of the Mass in the chapel, raised the wafer, he would be doing so beneath Mary’s robe, signifying the presence of the incarnate one in the bread, which represented his flesh. With the saints those partaking in the communion were part of the ‘body of Christ’. Mary is also the example to us, as she was to the charitable members of the confraternity, of one who carried the love of Christ to the world. They take the body of Christ in the Mass partly to proclaim the oneness of the confraternity in being the limbs of the body of Christ, active in the world and particularly in the local community. As the figures of the Confraternity gather beneath Mary’s cloak they celebrate more than their devotion to her and the intimacy of that relationship as ‘Mother of the Church’. She is their model, example and inspiration in their charitable, loving ministry and devotion to God through Christ.
John the Evangelist - This figure has been identified by some as St Andrew but comparisons with the iconography of other works and his pairing with John the Baptist on the other side of Mary, suggests the connection with John the Evangelist. A mediaeval tradition stated that John the Evangelist died on the anniversary of the birth of John the Baptist. The placement of the Virgin of the Annunciation above him also suggests his identity as the writer who emphasised that Christ was ‘the Word made flesh’, and whose chastity reflected that of the Virgin.
St. Bernardino - It seems strange that Bernardino is given more of a prominent position to St. Francis, above him, to whim his finger points, but Bernardino had only recently been canonised. He stands above the Resurrection scene in the predella below, which may relate to Bernardino’s belief that St Francis might himself have been resurrected directly, as was claimed in Ubaldino di Casale’s book ‘Arbor vitae Cruci... Jesu’, which Bernardino promoted.
Virgin & Angel of the Annunciation
The inclusion of the Annunciation was a common feature of many altarpieces. As well as depicting the theology of the Incarnation, it emphasised that Mary became to sheltering womb for the growth of Christ. This related to the Mass in which the elements too were believed to ‘contain’ the presence of Christ. As God became ‘enfleshed’ in Mary’s womb, a similar ‘mystery’ was believed to happen in the consecration of the bread and wine.
If the present arrangement of the altarpiece is correct, the positioning of the Annunciation beside the Crucifixion points to the sacrifice of Christ being in the divine plan from the beginning. Leo the Great had asserted that “the sole purpose of God’s Son in being born was to make the Crucifixion possible. For in the Virgin’s womb he assumed mortal flesh, and in this mortal flesh the unfolding of his purpose was accomplished.” [Tractatus 48:1].
St. Romuald? This identity of this figure above the figure of St Sebastian has been debated. He wears the white robe of the Camaldolese Order, which Romuald founded, but he carries a ‘Tau’ staff and a scourge or ‘disciplina’, which are not elements of the traditional iconography for Romauld. St. Benedict of Norcia was sometimes represented in white, and the Camaldolese Order was founded upon his rule. Other hermits and abbots were represented with the pastoral tau-shaped staff. The Benedictines were one of the earliest religious orders who settled in Borgo San Sepolcro, and, according to the Golden Legend, Benedict was a devotee of St. Sebastian, whose figure he is placed above.
St. Francis St Francis was the founding figure of the Order for whose church this polyptych was designed. He was devoted to the Passion of Christ and to Mary. He was seen as the closest example to a Christ-like figure and ministry to which a Christian could aspire. He was an example of charity towards the poor and needy for the confraternity to follow. His stigmata seemed to be evidence of his Christ-likeness and were similar to Zechariah’s prophecy to Mary that a sword would pierce her heart. He is painted in a humble way but with the dignity of their founder.
On the left pilaster: St. Jerome, St. Anthony of Padua, both examples of hermit mystics and examples of contemplatives who the Franciscan friars and members of the confraternity aimed to follow. (St. Arcanus? Founding saint of Borgo)
On the right pilaster: St. Augustine, St. Dominic, Doctors of the church and defenders of doctrine who were examples for the preaching friars to follow. (St. Egidius? Founding saint of Borgo)
On the predella: The pilaster and predella panels have been reduced in size at the sides and represent: Christ’s Agony in the Garden; Flagellation; Entombment; Noli Me Tangere; The Three Marys at the Sepulchre.
The Three Marys at the Sepulchre The gesture of Mary covering her eyes to see more clearly is similar to that of Fra Angelico’s Deposition (Four Mary’s at the Empty Tomb). in San Marco, Florence. The predella paintings, as well as showing the Passion and Resurrection of Christ, suggest the acts of mercy performed by the Franciscan friars: Support of and intercession for the needy, the relief of the suffering, burial of the Dead, visiting and bringing hope to the bereaved and proclamation of the Gospel of Salvation.
Placing the Entombment of Christ at the centre of the predella probably intentionally related it to the connection of the altar below with a tomb. The space below the altar top on which the bread and wine were place was known technically as the ‘tumba’ / ‘tomb’. This would be true of any Catholic altar, but it is particularly relevant in the case of Borgo San Sepolcro, which had its special identification with the sepulchre of Christ, a stone of which was the town’s most famous founding relic.
The Flagellation, like the scourge held by St. Sebastian above may be associated with the members of the confraternity who were ‘disciplinati’ or ‘flagellants’ and the practice of self-flagellation by other members of the Convent.
The inclusion of so many scenes representing Mary Magdalene may also have had contemporary relevance. On 22nd July 1456 The Franciscan John Capistran, who was devoted both to her and his mentor St. Bernardino, had won a significant victory over the Turks and attributed it to her intervention and his own raising of the Cross as Constantine had done at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge..
Piero seems to have been experimenting with oil painting at the time, so there are some technical weaknesses, which caused later cracking.
NATIVITY / ADORATION OF THE CHILD. National Gallery, London. Before 1482 /c1478-80?. 124.5 x 123 cm.
This painting may be Piero’s last painting. Critics differ over its dating between 1470 and 1485. It is likely to be before 1482, because two of the angels seem to have been copied by Laurentio d’Andrea in an altarpiece of that date (Museo Statale, Arezzo). Some theorists suggest that Piero may have intended it for his own grave or the family chapel in the Badia (now Sansepolcro Cathedral), where he wished to be buried. Piero’s family, the Franceschi were patrons of the Capella del Monacato chapel in the abbey church, and his father was also buried there. Another suggestion is that it may have been a wedding present for his nephew Francesco, who married in 1482. It could be the painting recorded as hanging in Francesco’s wife Laudamia’s chamber, in a document of 30th January 1550. Also a ‘painting of the Nativity’ passed to his nephew from Piero’s estate after his death. The painting remained in the ownership of the Franceschi family, for many centuries, though there was a dispute among Piero’s heirs over its ownership in 1515. It may have been lent out or used for religious purposes by the family, including use as a small private altarpiece, since it appears to have candle damage. Other works copied from it, including a Nativity by Durante Alberti in Sansepolcro Cathedral, suggest that at some time it was on public display. (Alberti’s Nativity painting includes the braying donkey, and the shepherd pointing to the sky, so it has been suggested that it may have been painted as a substitute for Piero’s painting when it was returned to the family.) Two of the angels appear to have been copied by Lorentino d’Andrea in an altarpiece dated 1482, now in the Pinacoteca, Arezzo. If so Piero’s Nativity must be before that date.
The painting was still in the family’s possession in 1826 when it was deposited with the Uffizi for sale in Florence, and appeared again in sales lists of 1848, 1858 and 1861. The family offered it for sale in 1859 to the dealer and intermediary John Charles Robinson for £70. He refused it as it was not in a good condition, and he was impatient to leave Italy due to the politically unstable situation. He later regretted failing to buy it, though described it as having peeling paint, abrasions, and losses visible beneath layers of oxidised varnish). (Robinson was also instrumental in the buying of Piero’s Baptism of Christ). The British collector Alexander Barker bought it in 1861 and had the painting badly restored. However at the recommendation of Benjamin Disraeli, the National Gallery bought it for £2,415 at the auction of Barker’s collection in 1874 and the bad restoration was removed before it was first displayed in 1888.
The areas of this painting which appear unfinished today may well have been in a far more finished state originally, as the picture appears to have been drastically over-cleaned. There are differences of critical opinion over whether Piero ever completed the work. (Other works bequeathed to Piero’s heirs are described as being unfinished,) The lower part of the painting has been damaged by candles at some time and by the movement of the wood in the panel. It was already in bad condition in 1826, since on writing to the Uffizi in a letter of 22nd July, Piero’s distant heir Marini Francesci described it as “maltreated by time and the lack of diligence of my forbears.”
We have no documentation of Piero’s personality, character or faith, so it wold be wrong to make assumptions about how the painting may have related to him. But if he designed it for his own use or for his grave, it may be the closest that we can get to a personal impression of his faith. As the painting appears in its present state it seems very quiet and thoughtful, despite the singing angels and braying donkey. It is rather an uncomfortable composition, with the figures divided in to groups, but this may be a deliberate mathematical Fibonacci progression: one - Christ; two - Christ and Mary and the ox and ass; three - Joseph and the shepherds; five - the angels.
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The figure of a shepherd pointing up to the sky resembles the pose of the small figure of the elder or priest beneath the arm of the disrobing man in Piero’s Baptism of Christ. His posture is probably intended to indicate the miraculous heavenly knowledge that he had received; he seems to be explaining to Joseph the angelic vision which directed them to the scene [Lk.2:8-20]. His arm gesture and the way he carries his staff, have been associated with the iconography of the Emperor Augustus, with pointing arm and imperial baton held by in the statue from the Empress Livia’s villa at Prima Porta (c20 B.C.E. in the Vatican Museum). If this connection with Augustus is intended, the pose may relate to the mediaeval tradition, recorded in the Golden Legend, of a vision seen by Augustus on the winter solstice (the original date given to Christmas). After a victory celebration Augustus had closed the gates of peace in Rome. Then on the Capitoline Hill Augustus had asked the Tiburtine Sibyl whether there would ever be a greater leader than he. In response the soothsayer pointed him vision in the sky of the Altar of Heaven (Ara Coeli), where they saw an image of the Madonna and Child in the clouds. The pose of Joseph beside the shepherd may corroborate this connection. The strange position of Joseph is very close to the pose of the Roman statue of the Spinario (Capitoline Museum, Rome). In Piero’s time this was mounted on the Capitoline Hill, where the Ara Coeli vision had supposedly taken place. Of course there is no proof of either of these iconographic connections, but it would seem to be more than a coincidence.
In the distance on the left is a view of Borgo San Sepolcro, with a large palatial building on the right. It was usual in contemporary iconography to show the Nativity in the ruins of an ancient building, representing the ruins of the Hebrew patriarch Abraham’s palace, indicating that Jesus was replacing the old dispensation. The Golden Legend claimed that at Jesus’ birth an earthquake had caused the building’s destruction. Here, however, the setting in Piero’s Nativity is far more humble, under lean-to roof erected against a simple ruined wall. This is probably an ‘aia’ or covered area open to the sun, which was used in Italian farms for drying wheat. If this identification is correct, it could refer to Christ as the ‘bread of life’ who would be threshed in order to bring salvation. Plants are growing on the thatch and a magpie looks down on the scene.
The magpie’s significance is uncertain; it may represent the devil looking on, waiting for his chance to disrupt God’s plans for the child. The black-and-white magpie, by contrast to the innocence of the song-birds feeding on the ground around the nativity, has an ugly song, reflected in its onomatopoeic Italian name ‘gazza’. It was regarded by ancient writers as a contrast to the muse of music. This may be why it is represented immediately above the group of singing angels and why its beak is so clearly shown as silent, while the more innocent donkey’s bray accompanies them. Magpies were connected to predation, slyness, robbery of valuable shiny things and slander, as it could imitate the human voice. It contrasts with Christ the bringer of the Word of truth and honesty, bringing the gift of life. Birds are often symbols of the human soul; their abilities to fly were used to represent the potential of the ascent of the soul to heaven. The many small birds feeding on the ground around Jesus may be intended to show that nature recognises the spiritual life that he is bringing. In the gospels Christ points to the value of the sparrow in God’s sight. The birds may represent our own ability to come to Christ for spiritual nourishment and the potential of abundant spiritual life. The emphasis on nature, gathered around Jesus in the painting probably refers to a passage in the Golden Legend, where the Nativity is described as being celebrated by “all creatures, the rocks of the earth, the trees, all growing things, animals, humankind and also the seraphim, the pinnacle of Creation.” This painting illustrates Creation celebrating the birth of the one who would liberate it from the bonds of decay [Rom.8:21].
The baby Jesus, lies on the ground, as described in the vision of Bridget of Sweden. He rests on a folded blue cloth, perhaps Mary’s mantle as she is unusually represented bare-headed, though with a pearl of puri9ty in her blonde hair, topped with a braided band . The blue probably represents the eternity from which he came and echoes the blue of Mary’s cloak. Around Jesus is a simple garden of plants populated by birds, all of which probably have some symbolic meanings, as in the foliage in the Baptism of Christ. Their identities are not easy to discern.
The angel choir serenading the child play lutes and viols. The three angels at the front of the group are dressed simply as the angel to the right in the Senegallia Madonna, while the two angels behind seem to be dressed more liturgically in embroidered garments. The furthermost angel has features which resemble the left hand angel in the Senigallia Madonna. Behind them the braying ass, which may be joining in their song, is a feature of some Northern European nativity illustrations. Perhaps Piero took the idea from one of these. It contrasts with the sense of beauty and harmony of the angels’ song, but implies that nature too is recognising and praising the presence of the Source of Salvation. The presence of an ox and ass in the stable reached back to ancient representations of the nativity, and probably derives from Isaiah 1:3 “The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand.”
Mary is shown in devotion before the child. Unlike many of Piero’s more matronly, peasant Madonnas, she is slim and elegant, with a simple beauty. If this is a personal painting for the benefit of Piero and his family alone, it may show a change in his reflection on spirituality towards the end of his life. She has taken off her mantle to use as a cushion on the ground for her infant who raises his arms to her, almost in a gesture of welcome or embrace.
Joseph behind her is represented as an old man with folded hands, listening to the account of the shepherd whose ‘Ara Coeli’-like gesture suggests that he is recounting the heavenly source of the vision which brought them to the scene. The strange realistic representation of Joseph’s defies all traditional iconography in his pose particularly. This may reflect Piero’s interest in finding meaningful new poses and gestures for his characters, as in the Resurrection. He neither watches over the child and his mother protectively nor looks on in similar devotion to that of Mary. Reflecting the pose of the ancient sculpture of the ancient Spinario statue, Piero represents Joseph sitting cross-legged on the unhitched saddle of the donkey, as though resting his bare foot after the long journey. The donkey on which Mary is traditionally shown as travelling to Bethlehem is not mentioned in the biblical story, but comes from apocryphal stories, which were included in mediaeval accounts. Perhaps Joseph is being suggested to have washed his foot, which might relate to the story of Moses and the burning bush, where Moses is told to remove his shoes for he is standing on holy ground in the presence of God. Less directly this has connections to Jesus washing his disciples’ feet in the upper room. Joseph, like the angels is barefooted in the presence of Christ. The feet of Mary and the shepherds are not visible.
In an otherwise rather formally posed painting, the figure of Joseph is by far the most realistic character. With the plants and birds he may be influenced by the Northern-European works which Piero had seen on his travels. There are several similarities with the naturalism, poses and content of Hugo van der Goes’ Nativity, the central panel of the Portinari Altarpiece [Uffizi Gallery, Rome], but that did not reach Florence until 1483, and records suggest that Piero’s painting was completed by that time. It is more likely that Piero was responding, like van der Goes to the descriptive vision of St. Bridget of Sweden. Though both paintings have similar natural details, include singing angels, a kneeling virgin and the figure of Christ on the ground, there is not enough similarity of composition to conclude that Piero had seen van der Goes picture. There are greater similarities with Alesso Baldovinetti’s Nativity for the Church of the Annunziata, Florence (1460-2), which Piero is more likely to have seen.
The setting is an interesting one. Unlike the valley landscapes in which Piero sets most of his religious scenes, Piero has set the crib on a hillside promontory. Perhaps it refers to the idea that Bethlehem was said to be in ‘the hill-country of Judea’. If the connection to the Emperor Augustus is intended, the raised position could also reflect the Capitoline Hill where the Ara Coeli vision took place. The stable setting has been greatly simplified from the often of classical architectural ruins popular in other nativity paintings. The simplicity of the propped-up roof over three simple stone walls may refer to the idea that the roughness of the setting helped to cover-up the true nature of Christ from his unbelieving enemies who wanted to destroy him. (The deceiving magpie could also be related to this).
The scene is based on the visions of the C14th mystic St Bridget of Sweden, which were widely read at the time and influenced Northern European nativity paintings particularly. Bridget described Mary as a beautiful, young, light-haired woman, kneeling in adoration of her child lying naked on the ground. She mentioned hearing the singing of angels “of miraculous sweetness and great beauty” which the harmony of the angels portrays.
BAPTISM OF CHRIST National Gallery, London. 167 x 116 cm.
Like most of Piero’s works the date, source and context of this panel is debated. Some regard the Baptism of Christ as an early work by Piero, but others suggest a similar date to the Flagellation (c1460) as it shares certain characteristics.
19th century sources claim that this was the central panel of an altarpiece which formed a triptych with large panels of St Peter and St. Paul on either side, and smaller panels by Matteo di Giovanni and assistants [in] who were working in Borgo San Sepolcro. This is not absolutely certain, as some believe that Matteo’s panels belonged to a different altarpiece, but it would seem more than coincidental that Piero’s Baptism panel is of the correct and size. However the figures in Piero’s painting are of a very different proportion to those of Matteo’s saints, who would have appeared much larger. The saints on the Matteo di Giovanni panels have gold backgrounds and are painted in a very different style to that of Piero, so the contrast in the altarpiece would have been striking, and may have contributed to the fact that the altarpiece was dismantled. (An altarpiece of 1387 for the Florentine church of Sta. Maria degli Angeli by Nocolò di Pietro Gerini also has images of Saints Peter and Paul flanking Christ’s baptism ). At some time, whether originally or more likely, later, the works are described as being formed into a polyptych. Above were smaller images of Mary with the Angel of the Annunciation (probably separated, as in the Polyptych of the Misericordia, and pillars with three saints on either side, representing St.Stephen, Mary Magdalene, St. Arcanus / Arcano, St. Benedict?, St. Catherine?, and St. Egidius / Egidio?. The predella was emblazoned with the arms of the Graziani family and scenes from the life of St. Benedict, or the life of John the Baptist, with representations of Four Doctors of the Church. Matteo di Giovanni is documented as working in Borgo San Sepolcro in the 1460s. The work on these panels is dated to between 1460 and 1465. This may suggest a date for Piero’s work, though equally Piero could have completed his panel earlier or later. (Some commentators suggest that Mateo’s central panels may have been badly damaged.) Piero is also said to have painted a roundel of God the Father above the Baptism.
The original setting for the altarpiece is contested. The fact that the frame had figures that were designed to be viewed from three sides implies that the altarpiece was intended for a high altar, rather than a side chapel. In the 19th Century it was claimed to have originally been for the altar of the Chapel of John the Baptist in the Camaldolese priory church of St. Giovanni d’Afra, Borgo San Sepolcro, which was renamed c.1496 as the church of San Giovanni Evangelista. (St. Giovanni d’Afra was originally a small church, where its prior Don Nocolò di Nicoloso Graziani amassed a large number of relics, including those of John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene and St. Stephen. The prior may have been the patron for this altarpiece, though he died c1455. As the figures on the pilasters of the frame represent the two saints, Egidio and Arcana, who legendarily founded Borgo San Sepolcro, some historians suggest that the work was commissioned for the Baptist’s Chapel in Badia, since the altar was also dedicated Egidio and Arcano. The patron has also been suggested to be the San Sepolcro financier Benedetto di Baldino. Other historians seek to identify it with the high altar of Sta, Maria Assunta, the parish church of San Sepolcro, though it would be a strange subject for a main altarpiece, despite the church being favoured for civic baptisms. The Augustinians had taken over the church in 1555 and replaced the altarpiece with a subject more suited to the priorities of their Order. Some suggest that the patronal family may have moved it at this time, others that it was moved c1583 to the Chapel of St. John the Baptist in the priory of San Giovanni Battista in the Badia at Borgo San Sepolcro, then transferred in 1807 to the cathedral (which the Camaldolese abbey had been transformed into in 1518.) The panel of the Baptism only remained in the Cathedral for 52 years, until 1859, when the cathedral chapter decided to sell it.
In the mid-19th Century Italy was in a state of political chaos and the cathedral of Sansepolcro, short of funds, was attempting to sell artefacts and furnishings to pay for the restoration of the interior. The Baptism panel was removed sometime between 1857 and 1859 with another circular panel by Piero which surmounted it, of ‘God the Father’ (now lost). The cathedral attempted to sell it to the Tuscan government, before the enterprising dealer John Charles Robinson bought it for £400 (23,000 lire) in April 1859 just before the major removal of artworks from Italy was officially halted. He had written in 1857 to the National Gallery asking whether they would want to buy the painting but on receiving no answer, he approached the wealthy collector, railway magnate and merchant Matthew Uzeilli to provide the money. Useilli was a member of the Burlington Fine Arts Club, which Robinson had founded. He allowed it to be displayed in the South Kensington Museum (now the V&A) for 2 years before offering his collection for sale at Christies in 1861, when it was bought for the National Gallery for a far higher price than it had originally been offered to them (£4,000). (Robinson became Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures for Victoria, but lost his job at the South Kensington Museum through buying works for himself and friends while travelling on purchasing business for the museum.)
The panel of the Baptism has unpainted borders at its arched top, which would have been hidden behind the architectural frame. Some believe the frame would have been designed by Piero himself. When bought by Robinson, the painting was recorded as being in relatively bad condition. It had a vertical split which went through the leaves of the tree and the head of the dove. Sadly however, in the process of its 19th Century cleaning, the paint surface was badly abraded, removing both the varnish and the surface of some of the tempera. This left the green underpainting more prominent than it would originally have appeared. The tempera itself has lost its surface layer of paint and some of the pigments have also faded, increasing their transparency. It is probable that the original appearance of Christ’s body as Piero completed it is very different from its present appearance, but it still has an hypnotic power. Some details have also been lost over time. Originally the dove emerged from a shower of gold lines and the wings of the angels were also picked out in gold, as was the embroidery of the hem of Christ’s loin-cloth. The water pouring from John’s shell was also gilded, perhaps adding to the sense of motionlessness. Knowing of this loss may help us appreciate how different Piero’s painting may once have originally appeared, yet is remains a wonderful and harmonic work.
Dating the painting is difficult. It is possible that Piero’s Baptism was already completed when Matteo produced the other panels. Various dates have been suggested for its painting, from 1440 to 1465. As it is in tempera, rather than oil on panel, it is likely to be fairly early in date, as Piero later moved to a mixture of the techniques then appears to have preferred the medium of oils. It appears to have been influenced by the Baptism scene in Sassetta’s polyptych for San Francesco in Borgo San Sepolcro, which was delivered in 1444. Stylistically Piero’s Baptism seems more advanced than his Berlin Jerome (1450). Its arrangement and the sculptural effect of light on the figures may be more stylistically linked to the Polyptych if the Misericordia (mid-1450s) or Piero’s earliest on the Arezzo frescoes. Others date it later to the time of the Flagellation (c1460 or 1465). The static feeling of the figures and their rigid geometry makes them feel more rigid than the naturalism of some of his later works, which suggests that it might be fairly early.
The painting combines several elements of the Biblical account of Jesus’ baptism: John preaching repentance and baptising in the Jordan, people from all walks of society including Temple representatives coming to listen, catechumens disrobing and receiving baptism, John recognising Christ as the Lamb of God who would away the sins of the world and baptising him, the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove revealing God’s message: “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.” But the addition of the three angels, the setting of the scene in the local Tuscan landscape, and the clear geometrical and mathematical arrangement of the scene transform the image into a more mysterious and intense representation than most, paintings of the same subject. The landscape itself was a rare innovation. Since the frescoes of antiquity, a landscape had rarely been represented on such a large scale. Piero would possibly have visited Siena and seen Lorenzetti’s murals of Good and Bad Government, which included panoramic landscapes. But otherwise, if landscape was represented at all in religious pictures, it had hitherto been mostly symbolic or a brief tree, bush or rock, not a fully realised topographic background. Masolino’s Baptism fresco in the Baptistery, Castiglione, Olona (c.1430) also shows a large landscape background with a mountainous river valley, three onlooking angels (holding Christ’s clothes) and four semi-naked baptism candidates, but the landscape is more generalised than that of Piero. Piero was definitely representing the Baptism of Christ as though in his local Tuscan setting, perhaps to emphasise its relevance to his contemporaries and to imply that the valley in which Borgo San Sepolcro was built was a holy place.
Although I analyse in detail many of the symbols and significant details within it, the picture was designed primarily for contemplation as a background for the Eucharist and to be prayed before in a chapel. The symbolic details would have been included, not primarily for intellectual interest, but as signs pointing to the significance of the subject, particularly nature and significance of the figure of Jesus, who is central and dominant. In being baptised he is devoting himself and his vision to God and identifying himself with humankind. In showing him in his semi-naked humanity the image presents the reality of the divine man who is giving himself for humankind in the elements of the Mass as well as in his earthly ministry, and now divinely interceding from heaven. It is significant that he is shown in an attitude of prayer, both in the process of devoting himself and interceding for us. The presence of the dove reminds us that this is the moment when Jesus is being declared by the voice of God from heaven as his ‘chosen one’, ‘the beloved Son in whom I am well pleased’ [Matt.3:17; Mk.1:11; Lk.3:22; Jn.1:33-4]. The image thus represents the whole Trinity: the Son, Spirit and the invisible presence of the Father. Mediaeval theologians considered the Baptism as the first earthly revelation of Christ’s divinity and ‘the first revelation of the Trinity’. They called it ‘the Descent of Divine Illumination’, which Piero showed literally in the rays of gold radiating from the dove onto Christ. God the Father, of course is invisible in the scene, but his presence is suggested by more than the space within the picture. The roundel of the altarpiece, which was positioned directly above the Baptism panel, was a representation of God the Father, probably leaning forwards in blessing over the scene below. We know that roundel was removed and offered for sale in 1859, but its whereabouts, if it still survives, is unknown.
The figure of Christ has wonderful luminosity and transparency of flesh, almost like alabaster. We cannot be entirely sure of how it appeared originally, since rubbing and cleaning over time, as well as the degradation of certain pigments and the greater dominance of the green underpainting have altered the effect. But it still remains a remarkable and quietly attractive figure. His proportions are idealised, following classical proportions, probably intending to represent not just the ideal human being but his divine nature. He wears the two-pointed beard that was associated in several other Piero paintings with Jews and other middle-eastern characters, as well as being a symbol of wisdom and insight. (Piero possibly adopted this shape from the beards of Eastern clerics who he had seen at the Council of Florence). Christ’s upright pose suggests his authority as he prays in dedication to his forthcoming ministry. The stance of prayer also assures the viewer that he is still praying for the world and interceding for us now before the Father on the throne of heaven.
John the Baptist was the patron saint of Borgo San Sepolchro, which is the town with high towers visible in the distance beside Christ’s waist. John is shown in the pose of stepping forward to baptise Jesus, but he seems almost static. He appears to be speaking or about to speak; the three angelic figures certainly seem to be on the point of making some form of declaration. His arm is raised to baptise Christ with a shell as was common in contemporary church liturgy of Piero’s time. This raised-arm pose is also similar to that of an orator, suggesting that the Baptist is revealing truths about Jesus as the Lamb and Son of God, as the dove and voice from heaven are doing..
The four figures in the middle distance, beneath the arched figure of the disrobing man and reflected in the river may be intended intentionally to contrast with the three ‘angelic’ figures in the foreground who are more static. Four is a human number, three a divine one. The four may be priests, patriarchs or elders, as was were fairly traditional in the iconography of paintings of Christ’s baptism. The Church Fathers referred to the Baptism of Christ as ‘the first manifestation to the Jews’ so these men may symbolically represent this. One watches the act of baptism and points towards the dove of the Spirit, in a gesture that is parallel to John’s arm. The others seem less obviously engaged with the scene. These figures are represented in untraditional ways, dressed in elaborate robes and tall headdresses and turbans of the Eastern costumes of Constantinople, similar to those which Piero would have seen worn by the senior Greek clerics at the Council of Florence. Some commentators suggest that as well as representing the religious authorities of Jesus’ day, or they may also be interpreted as church patriarchs pointing to the tradition of baptism that passed down from the origins of the Church. They have the beards of the Eastern clerics. Piero is one of only a few Italian artists to represent their tall cylindrical hats. Piero, like several contemporaries at the Council of Florence, may have considered that their tradition like their robes dated back to the church’s foundation, of which baptism was one of the founding acts.
They have also been associated by some commentators with the Magi, with one pointing to the star, but traditionally only three magi are usually represented in Renaissance art (though occasionally four were represented in Early Christian art. The number of magi is not specified in scripture, which just names their three gifts. In Psalm 72:10 (the Antiphon for the Epiphany) Kings of Tharsis, the Isles, Arabia and Saba are mentioned as, in future, bringing gifts to God, so the association of the Epiphany with Christ’s baptism could be appropriate, as Christ’s Baptism is a theme of the Epiphany season.
The angels are unusual in being represented as standing onlookers in the scene, not flying, praising or praying, as in much traditional baptism iconography. Neither do they hold Christ’s clothes, as in some more domestic representations of the subject. Their faces are quiet and empathetic; their inward expressions may be suggesting that we, the viewers should be contemplating the meaning of the scene as they are represented as doing. One looks out at us, as if to engage us in meditating on the scene. They are barefooted, as are the angels in Piero’s Nativity, and the central figure stands contrapposto, a posture associated with elegance of manner, which may also be the stance of the other angels. Two at least hold hands, the other reaches towards their grasped hands, pointing towards Christ at waist height. This is almost a relaxed, static, genderless interpretation of the iconography of the dance of the three graces, which was a symbol of the beauty of harmony. Are they here perhaps suggesting that harmony is coming to the world through Christ’s identifying with humankind in his incarnation and baptism? Some interpreters consider the angels might allude to or represent the Trinity. If so, they are more likely to be a reminder of the involvement of the entire Trinity in the scene than actually representing them. The Trinity were represented in the altarpiece anyway, in this panel and the roundel of God the father above. We are not considering here the sort of symbolism of Rublev’s Trinity Icon. If anything the angels would be considered the on-looking and appreciative servants of the Trinity. They are dressed in robes that share three colours, blue for eternity, white for purity, and a pink or magenta which could represent the human flesh of Christ’s incarnation or the angels’ nature as created beings. The way in which the angels are presented and posed I in relation to Christ is unusual. They do not venerate the figure of Jesus or pray or sing within the scene, but are represented in a sort of sacred conversation, in the form of ‘the three graces’ or an ‘allegory of friendship’. They look more like classical muses, Christianised by the addition of wings, which may relate to the classicising influences upon the church of Piero’s time and Renaissance platonically-influenced theology.
The angel on the extreme left watches the baptism with a look of quiet amazement and seems about to speak. He has a simple ribbon hair-band, with a trinity of pearls at his forehead, suggesting his origins in the divine realm of the Trinity. He wears a magenta dress, with a robe of blue about his waist. He is viewed almost from behind, as a lead into the composition, with his head in profile. This allows for the display of his iridescent wings that range through the colours of light, rather like those painted by Fra Angelico. This colouring probably relates to Thomas Aquinas’ description of the colours of angels. As he points towards Christ his palm is lowered in humility, which could be a sign that this man being baptised is the incarnate one who has lowered himself in coming to redeem humanity, and is submitting humbly to baptism {Phil.2:6].
The central angel is garlanded with flowers: red and white roses in a woven frame. He watches the baptism scene intently, with a serious expression and again appears about to speak. He wears a white classical gown, the ‘kiton’, with a simple blue, high waist-band and one shoulder bare. Grasping his neighbours hand he seems to be the one of the three angels to sense sorrow, perhaps recognising the spiritual significance of the scene and the opposition that Christ will encounter in his ministry. (I realise that I could be reading too much into his expression, but Piero’s art is full of significant gestures and expressions, which seem intentional,) The garland especially is similar to a wedding garland. With his grasp of his neighbour’s hand this may be an intentional reference to our spiritual marriage commitment to Christ and the covenant vows that Jesus was making in his baptism. This reference may be to another Epiphany theme, the Marriage at Cana, which was used, like the Song of Songs, by contemporary preachers and commentators as a type of the individual believer and the Church’s covenant commitment to God. Christ in baptism was committing himself to the world in love and self-giving.
The angel on the right looks out towards us. His face expresses less concern than the other two. He seems to be calling for our attention, asking the viewer to the significance and promise of security that this scene is offering: Christ’s identification with sinful human beings, which will lead to his future sacrifice will achieve salvation and assurance of God’s care. The angel’s head is garlanded with laurel or myrtle, which may be intended to link the scriptural subject of Christ’s baptism to the message of a classical muse. He is robed in the blue of heaven and the pink of human flesh, natures that were united in Christ. His gesture of resting his unclasped hand on the neighbouring angel’s shoulder may suggest that this scene offers peace, security and rest.
The tree behind Christ has a similar dominance of trees in Piero’s paintings of St. Jerome [Venice], The Resurrection, and the frescoes of The Death of Adam, The Queen of Sheba Adoring the Holy Wood, and The Exaltation of the Cross in Arezzo. Its presence beside the Jordan may be a reminder of the imagery of a dedicated believer as a tree planted besides flowing waters in Psalm 1:1-3. St. Augustine in commentating on the Psalms, related these verses to Wisdom deriving its nourishment from the Holy Spirit. Other interpreters commentating on the passage made direct connections between Christ and the tree growing from the nourishment of God, as in the Tree of Life in Rev.22. (Examples can be found in Jerome, Origen, Eusebius, Athanasius, Cassiodorus, Hilary and Ambrose.) The tree, like the Cross was also seen as a symbol of healing, as were the plants at the base of the composition. It is not clear what species of tree is represented, though it appears to be growing the shells of nuts. This may be an imagined generic tree, rather than a specific genus. It may have some intended connection with the eternal and healing properties of Tree of Life in Genesis 2:16-17 and Revelation 22:2. This too drew nourishment from the waters of life. It is also possible that the three major trees in the composition relate to the Trinity, and that the smaller tree in the distance signifies the presence of Mary or John the Baptist in the story of redemption. The Piero scholar Marilyn Aronberg Lavin suggests that the main tree is a Mediterranean Walnut, which grew in the Tiber Valley around Sansepolcro. She believes that, as walnuts were believed to foretell the future, it may be a balance to the figure of John, Christ’s forerunner. The angle of John’s arm is reflected in the branch of the tree as well as the bending back of the catechumen.
The Tree could also be intended as a reminder of Christ’s coming Crucifixion. If it is a walnut it chimes with the name of the valley in which Sansepolcro was built: ‘Val de Nocea’ (‘Valley of the Walnuts’). Lavin’s interpretation seems to ring true, as the two pilgrims Arcano and Aegidius, who in legend, rested in that clearing of the forest, were told in a dream to found the shrine for their relic of the Holy Sepulchre, which grew into the Camaldolese Convent for which this altarpiece was intended, and around which the town of Borgo San Sepolcro grew. Christ’s Baptism was the public start of his mission, which would eventually lead him to the Cross and to the Sepulchre from which the relic came.
At the foot of the panel the plants probably all have intentional symbolic meanings. Many to those that we can identify are associated with healing, thus could be associated with the salvation which Christ is bringing, both through his earthly ministry and act of Redemption: Clover by the tree was used to treat snakebites and scorpion stings. As these creatures were symbols of the devil, Clover was also used to ward off witchcraft and hostile spells. Its triple leaf was used as a sign of the Trinity, so here, leaning against the tree it may represent Christ’s divinity and his bringing of salvation and healing through the Cross. The roots of Plantain (shown growing by John’s back foot and beneath the angels) were pulverised to staunch bleeding and treat hard swellings. Because of its coagulating properties it was associated with Christ’s Passion, whipping, and the wounds of his crucifixion Plantain was also squeezed for its juice to treat pain in the gums; its seeds treated constipation. Its ancient name ‘Wegerich’ / ‘way-bread’ was a symbol of the path which believers take in seeking Christ, which may be why it is represented alongside both the angels who are witnesses to Christ’s divinity and incarnation, and John the Baptist, who prophetically pointed to him as Messiah. At the angels’ feet are also Buttercups (Ranunculus), which were used to cleanse the kidneys, treat lunacy, and avert toothache. Convolvulus in the foreground of the right bank was a diuretic. Liquorice (Glycyrrhiza) on the left riverbank was used as a laxative and emetic. The plant in the immediate foreground appears to be black bryony. All of these imply the removal of poisons or evil humours from the body, as Christ would deal with the evils on earth.
The riverbed approaches us straight on, as though we too are participants in the Baptism, which believers who prayed before this altar would have been. The Jordan as represented here is hardly the geographical river in which Jesus was baptised; it is represented as shallow stream. The flow of the water appears to stop at Christ’s feet. We see the robed clerics, sky and landscape reflected in the water. But this appears to end with curled lines of lapping wavelets, as it touches Jesus’ ankles. Jesus appears to stand on a dry river-bed of sand and pebbles. The water appears to stop as Jesus and John step into it, which may be a reminder of several biblical passages, particulalry the opening of the Red Sea in the Exodus and the crossing of the Jordan into Canaan. God’s people, crossing on dry land, are perhaps being seen as a prefiguration of the salvation and divine healing, which Christ is bringing. The Jordan was also supposed to have stopped as Joshua crossed with the Ark of the Covenant [Josh.3:15-17] and as Elisha and Elijah passed with his cloak [2Ki.2:8]. There was a mediaeval legend that at the moment of Christ’s baptism the waters themselves recognised Christ’s divinity and flowed backwards away from him, fulfilling Psalm 114, which had originally referred to the Exodus and entrance of God’s People into the Promised Land. Baptism was seen as a sign of that promise:
“The sea looked and fled;
Jordan turned back.
The Mountains skipped like rams,
the hills like lambs...
Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord,
at the presence of the God of Jacob,
who turns the rock into pools of water,
the flint into springs of water. [Ps.114:3, 5-8
This interpretation of the scene seems convincing. It may be intentionally representing the waters and nature generally retreating or stopping in reverence as it recognised the divinity of Jesus. Yet the small ripples round the ankles of Jesus and John the Baptist, as well as on the river-bank, could also suggest that the appearance of dry land may only be symbolic. It may suggest that the viewers themselves are in the water, experiencing the riverbed below them. In several earlier paintings of the Baptism, including icons and early mosaics, Christ’s full figure is seen as though through transparent water, sometimes with fish and other water creatures also visible within.
Jesus would probably have been submerged in baptism, but the baptism represented by Piero is more like that of the contemporary church of Piero’s day, though in a landscape rather than a church font. A tiny flow of water is all that emerges from the shell which John holds, but that was considered enough to confer the totality of God’s blessing. Jesus’ feet, though in the river, are not submerged in water, which means that the water does not reflect or refract his figure, though it reflects the landscape around it. The perfection if Christ’s divine figure not being distorted by the water might also be intended to suggest that he is of a higher nature than the world around him.
The figure removing his shirt behind the Baptist and the pointing patriarch or priest behind him add a sense of movement to a scene that seems otherwise frozen in a moment of time. The catechumen preparing to follow Christ in baptism appears to be disrobing, which may be a sign that we too should put off sin, allow ourselves to be cleansed by Christ, and freely receive faith. Some critics give the less likely interpretation that he has already been baptised and is putting on the white clothes. If this is intended, it is a sign that we should now robe ourselves in the purity of the new life that Christ offers. Spiritually both interpretations are true, though which interpretation was intended by Piero is uncertain. Some mediaeval commentators associated baptism robes with bridal garments, representing our commitment to Christ. He may be intended to represent all of us, who are dependent on Christ for salvation and the future life.
Despite its complexity, like many of Piero’s works this painting appears to have a strong but quiet sense of harmony. The arrangement of the figures may intentionally be in harmonic proportion to each other. Though Christ and the dove of the Holy Spirit are represented centrally, all the other figures have been calculated to have been arranged according to mathematical sequence. The whole composition certainly appears to have been carefully worked out and calculated. Pouncing has been identified in the under-drawing of the figure of the angel, so it appears that Piero probably used cartoons in the preparation of most of the figures in the painting. They would have been drawn separately and transferred to the composition as part of the geometrical arrangement.
The number of figures seem to follow a mathematical sequence:
1 – Christ
2 – Christ and John
3 – Three angels (and possibly Christ, John and the believer behind them who is about to be joined in fellowship with Christ in baptism).
4 – Four elders in the background.
These figures are also spaced carefully in their groupings, according to harmonic proportions.
Several different geometric schemes have been suggested as the basis of the composition, which conform to Piero’s interest in mathematics and geometry and add to the symbolic meaning of the painting. Some of the more complex mathematical suggestions may be inventions of the imagination of the theorist, but the picture was definitely composed using strongly geometric principles. Unlike the Flagellation, no obvious geometry or straight lines of perspective are visible in the landscape setting, though the lines of the riverbank point towards Christ’s knees and the hills converge at Christ’s shoulders. But behind this, Piero seems to have regulated and ordered the composition according to a geometric system. The most obvious geometry includes:
The proportion of the panel of the height of the panel to its width is 3:2.
The proportions of the painting are partly based on the Italian standard ‘braccio’ measurement (a length of 58.36 cm. based on the proportions of a long forearm). Christ is 1.5 braccia tall; the panel is 2 braccia wide, the space on either side of Christ is 1 braccio. The panel is made of two planks, rather than the usual three. Both of these are 1 braccio wide.
It is based on a circle (symbolic of the heavens) and a square (symbolic of the created earth.
Christ’s height is exactly half of the panel’s overall height.
A vertical line bisects the composition, though the dove, John’s hand, Christ’s face and his feet.
Christ’s figure stands exactly at the vertical centre of the panel, with the central line bisecting his face, hands, navel and running down the inside of his vertical leg. (his other leg, contraposto, leans out slightly towards John.
A circle from the top of the panel to Christ’s loincloth bisects the square of the main panel to the springing of the arch.
Two equilateral triangles can be formed from the dove and the top edges of the square to Christ’s feet, or the base of the panel to John’s hand.
The dove of the Holy Spirit is the fulcrum of a circle formed by the top of the panel, John’s lower arm and Christ’s loincloth.
Further underlying geometry includes a circle with its fulcrum in the centre of Christ’s praying hands, and its radius as the top points of the square. In this can be inscribed an equilateral triangle through the dove and 5 and 15 sided polygons, which define the positions of different parts of the composition. Christ is framed within an equilateral triangle and his hands are joined at the bisecting point of the triangle. Euclid’s diagram of an equilateral pentagon superimposed on a triangle may have influenced Piero’s planning of the proportions of the painting. These forms were part of Euclid’s Proposition 16, Book 4 and represented some of the basic geometry thought to be behind God’s creation.
It is also possible to point to other more complicated potential geometry. The main intention of the mathematics and geometry was not for the artist to show his intellect. Its intention seems to have been to signify that beneath the coming of Christ to bring salvation was an ordered divine plan. Circles represented heavenly realm, the square was the earth, and the equilateral triangle represented both the Trinity and human interaction with God. The equilateral pentagon was identified with the five wounds of Christ. The Euclidian shapes demonstrated that this was in an historic, intellectual order that was used by God in forming and sustaining the entire cosmos. For Christians all creation, the events of history, and all that was happening in the heavenly spheres were working together towards God’s cosmic gift of Salvation.
Lavin takes the geometry even further by linking the Euclidian construction to ancient astrology and suggesting that Piero is symbolising that Christ is the centre of the zodiac and the creative centre of the universe. This painting, with all its mathematical and symbolic potential is not esoteric mysticism, however. Although the geometry and other mathematical ideas may be behind the composition, its meaning is apparent on the surface: Christ was being baptised on behalf of humanity and was giving his life for our salvation; he still intercedes for us in heaven, and our own baptismal vows are made in dedication to following his way.
FLAGELLATION OF CHRIST Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, Urbino.
c1458-60? (58.4 cm. x 81.5cm.)
Much of this unusual work remains a mystery. Like most of Piero’s works, dating is uncertain. Some regard it as a youthful work, others as a mature painting. There are some similarities of perspective in the Arezzo frescoes, the Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon. Its purpose is also uncertain, as it is such an unusual picture. It has been speculated by some that this may have been a panel from an altar or a decorative chest. At 58.4 x 81.5 cm. it is too small for a main altarpiece and too large to have been a panel for a predella. It could potentially have been a small panel for a private or portable altar, but as such the Flagellation would have been an unusual subject. The work is so carefully planned and painted that it must have originally held some important significance. Due to its theme, its patron may perhaps have been a member of a flagellant or ‘disciplinati’ confraternity. Jesus’ flagellation was usually represented as part of a series of Passion paintings. It was not usually a separate image. The small size of the flagellation group in relation to the monumental representation of the three figures in the foreground suggest that the subject represented by the figures must have had a further significance, of which we can no longer be certain. The innovation of splitting the image into two halves so prominently also seems to indicate that it had greater meaning than simply representing the whipping of Christ as a scene from his Passion.
The panel was first recorded in the cathedral at the hill-top town of Urbino in the 18th Century in documents of Ubaldo Tosi, abbot of Urbino, dated 1743 and c.1740-50. In the mid-19th Century it hung in the cathedral sacristy, but it was probably not initially commissioned for a cathedral, but setting. Some believe it was part of a larger altarpiece: for the Capella del Perdono in the palace at Urbino, or even part of the predella for the Montefeltro Altarpiece. Yet its precision and the sense of particular significance of the scene imply that it was possibly intended to be a one-off work for a special purpose, with a specific intended meaning. It may have been painted in Urbino, though several scholars suggest that as mentions of it have not been found in previous inventories, it must have been formerly in a place where it was less viewed or known. Various private homes or chapels have been suggested as its original setting. These include: the Cappella del Perdone in the Palazzo Ducale; the Studiolo of Federico da Montefeltro; or that it was kept as a funerary memorial to Oddantonio da Montefeltro. As we do not know anything of its original purpose or setting, all these are only surmises. It may only be coincidence that it ended up in Urbino Cathedral, and may have been created for other patrons in another town, even though its style seems to point to a period around that in which Piero was working for the Urbino court. It was transferred to the Palazzo Ducale in 1916.
The 1743 mention of it includes a frame. Having been removed at some time from the frame’s protection, the panel had warped by the late 19th century, but attempts to stabilise and restore it, by adding butterfly wedges in 1930, caused further damage, including three horizontal cracks through the panel, which damaged Christ’s face and other figures. Other areas were damaged by vandals.
Urbino’s recently promoted ruler, Federico de Montefeltro was an enemy of Piero’s former patron in Rimini, Sigismondo Malatesta, both were illegitimate and rivalled each other militarily and in their humanist learning and cultural ambitions. Federico was a supporter of Pope Martin V who intervened politically in his rise to power and declared him legitimate. As Federico does not appear in the painting he may not have been the patron of this commission, since there were plenty of wealthy humanists at the Urbino court. Some critics suggest that the subject may be linked to the assassination of his brother Oddantonio, in July 1444, which brought Federico to power.
The intention of the theme of the painting is uncertain. Its present title is based on the small scene in the middle-distance, of Jesus being whipped before Pilate in the Praetorium. The three large figures on the right of the panel seem like portraits, but have not been certainly identified, though many suggestions have been made. They seem to be discussing the Flagellation or some related subject, just as the three angels in the Baptism of Christ appear to be discussing the relevance of the baptism scene. The youngest figure has a similar face to one of the three angels. The figure in dark silk decorated with pineapple patterns is in clothes fashionable in Italy at the time.
This work is signed on the step of the throne of Pilate: OPUS PETRI DEBURGO S[AN]C[T]I SEPULCRI. It is also recorded as having once borne the inscription ‘Convenerunt in unum’ beside the three foreground figures, but this was wrongly removed during restoration in the late C19th. The phrase relates to Psalm 2:2 “The kings of the earth set themselves and the rulers take council together against the Lord and his anointed....”
Though a relatively small panel it was particularly carefully prepared, drawn out and painted with special materials, including lapis lazuli, so it was obviously regarded as a significant painting. The perspective was worked out, drawn and painted with such extreme precision that analysts have been able to reconstruct in detail the depth of the architectural setting. This does not appear to be so complicated and intricate in any other painting by Piero, even the Montefeltro Altatrpiece, with its similarly precise perspective. The marble pavement may be a specific reference to John’s Gospel ‘the judgement seat in the palace that is called the Pavement... in Hebrew Gabbatha’ [Jn.19:13]. But Piero has made this into far more complicatedly symbolic logia. Jesus stands at the centre of a white circle surrounded by a wider black circle, which is itself surrounded by a complex black and white tiled pattern of squares, lozenges and stars. Symbolically this may be intended to show that he is the pure one at the centre of a dark world, about to bring salvation to a cosmos corrupted by sin. Piero even appears to have worked out carefully the way that the buildings would be lit by natural light and cast shadows. He further illuminated the interior by a hidden window or ‘magical light’ source (depending on which analytical critic you read). Was this just the intellectual play of an artist fascinated by geometry and optics, or did it have some special significance? While the bays around Christ cast shadows, the ceiling of the bay immediately above Jesus is brightly lit. This helps to focus attention on the small scene, but it is probably also intended to indicate that we are viewing the suffering of ‘the Light of the World’. Piero painted an aura of golden rays around his head and the statue of the ‘sol invictus’ above his pillar also indicates that one who is greater than even heavenly light is here, suffering on behalf of the world. The light on the piazza and the three large figures comes from the left but is strongly augmented in the praetorium by the other interior light source from the right illuminating Christ and the scene around him.
Perspectival paintings of ideal cities with classical architecture were produced by several artists of the time, showing off the mastery of newly promoted rules of perspective. But they were not populated by such significant figures and religious scenes as in this work. A major difference between this picture and almost all other Renaissance images is the strict division of the picture plane into two distinct scenes by the colonnade of the portico. Piero used a similar division in his fresco of the Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon in Arezzo. As with the Baptism of Christ all the proportions in the painting appear to relate to each other. Various lengths have been proposed as the module on which the whole composition has been arranged: the height of Christ (17.8cm.), the ratio of one in ten to the size of columns in St. John Lateran, or the length of one of the foreground blocks of stone. The proportions seem to have been planned using the length of the black stone tile in the foreground. The dimension of the panel are seven times this length in height and ten units in width. Such intriguing correspondences are all within Piero’s capabilities as a mathematical master, but nothing is certain.
Many attempts have been made to identify the three figures in the foreground. Tosi’s manuscript describes them as “our lords”; a 1775 names them as “Dukes Guidobaldo, Federico and Oddo Antonio da Montefeltro”, but it may only have been tradition which had handed down these names. None of the images resemble Federico. One later portrait of Oddantonio resembles the younger figure, but it is thought that that might have been copied from Piero’s work. The bald figure seems to recur in the Polyptych of the Misericordia, which was painted for Borgo San Sepolcro rather than Urbino.
Several paintings of Christ’s flagellation include groups of onlookers. The group in the background of the flagellation in Pietro Lorenzetti’s fresco cycle in the Lower Church at Assisi contains a similar selection of costumes from various cultures to those of Piero. Though there is no firm evidence that Piero visited Assisi, it is probable that he did so at some time in his career; in any event, the iconography is similar to other representations of the scene which he would have seen. The figures appear to be considering something intently. The man on the left seems to be talking and gesticulating, the man on the right is listening, perhaps about to speak, the younger man gazes out at the viewer as though both listening and asking us to contemplate the message with him. They could be simply discussing Christ’s flagellation, but their dominance in the composition implies further meaning and intent. It has been proposed by many that they represent recent events or tragedies at the time of painting, for which Christ’s Passion might be seen as a parallel, or on which his sufferings shed the light of hope. However, there is no documentary evidence to prove any of the identifications and suppositions.
Of a few religious interpretations of the work, the wealthily-dressed, balding, clean-shaven, noble figure on the right has been suggested by some to represent Joseph or Arimathea, contending with a Jewish leader. Other commentators identify him as to a wealthy contemporary aristocrat disputing over contemporary issues. He stands with his thumbs in his belt, robed sumptuously in Western dress, perhaps velvet, decorated with what appear to be gold pomegranates or large thistle forms. The figure on the left wears Greek clothes like those represented in images of visitors from Constantinople, similar to those Piero would have witnessed at the Council of Florence. He may be trying to convince those from the west to come to the aid of Christendom which was in danger of falling in the East, by liberating the Christians there from Islamic dominance. His eyes look up and seem to be focusing his mind thoughtfully. His two-pointed beard is very un-Italian. It has been suggested that this may relate to astrology as the Italian term ‘Barba Nera’ (’black bearded one’) is an Italian term for an astrologer or ‘wise one’. But it is a feature often used by Piero to identify figures as ‘Eastern’. The more youthful central figure of the three is more simply dressed and barefoot. He stands contraposto, echoing, probably deliberately, the pose of Christ at the pillar. In several ways he is similar to Piero’s representations of angels in the Baptism of Christ and other later paintings. He has similar golden curled hair which flares out at the edges. His sad, thoughtful expression seems to look directly out beyond the scene to the viewer, or beyond into space, as in the painting of right-hand angel in the Baptism. Behind him tall dark trees (laurels?), make his face stand out and focus attention on his expression.
There is a similar group of three, including a figure similar to Piero’s in Bellini’s drawing of the Flagellation, so it may relate to some specific iconography or to a contemporary issue that is lost to us or has yet to be discovered. None of the many suggestions made by different scholars about the identity and meaning of these three figures are entirely convincing, particularly as we do not know the precise date of the panel or its patron, setting, use or intention, so it is impossible to be sure to which of many contemporary events it might carry allusions or associations. What is undeniable is that the picture obviously had a particular significance when it was painted or commissioned.
One suggestion is that the scene is set in Urbino: The praetorium is suggested to have been the architecture of the earlier version of the Ducal Palace before its expansion, and the buildings beyond are theoretically identified as the town square, the Palazzo del Podestà and the campanile of the Romanesque cathedral. The barefoot youth has been suggested to be Oddantonio di Montifeltro, short-lived legitimate ruler of Urbino, who was assassinated after a plot on 22nd July 1444. The two other figures have been suggested to be Oddantonio’s false councillors Manfredo del Pio and Tommasso dell’Agnello, who were traitorous ministers. Others suggest that they could be Count Guidoantonio and John Palaeologus III the Emperor of Constantinople, who were part of the dynasty. Alternatively they have been suggested to be Oddantonio’s adversaries Serafini and Riccarelli. If any of these identifications are the case, the painting may be comparing the fate of Oddantonio to the sufferings of Christ.
Aronberg Lavin suggests the setting as Mantua and identifies the man with short receding hair is Ludovico Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua as this closely resembles his bust attributed to Donatallo (Staatliche Museum, Berlin-Dalheim). Ottavio Ubaldini della Carda has been suggested as the identity of the bearded man. He was Federico Montefeltro’s nephew and prime minister in Urbino, which had strong political, financial and personal links with Mantua at the time. Ludovico Gonzaga and Ottavio Ubaldini had trained together, corresponded throughout their lives and shared humanist scholarly aspirations. Ottavio’s fascination with astrology might be why he is robed as a sage or magus, suggesting his insight into the portentous events of the scene. Both had recently been bereaved: Ottavio of his son and heir in 1458. Ludovico’s favourite nephew had been crippled and disfigured by disease. It has been suggested that this panel represents their shared grief, and a search for consolation in Christ’s understanding of their sufferings. The idealised youth standing between them could be a representation of the youths they both had lost, made whole through Christ’s sufferings. The laurel tree behind his head might allude to this allegorically, just as the statue of the ‘sol invictus’ above the pillar of Christ alludes to his victory over sin, death and darkness.
The young man has been suggested by a few others to represent Guidobaldo Montefeltro, but he was only born in 1472. The painting could potentially be a celebration of the birth of Guidobaldo, but there seems little reason for connecting such a celebration with Christ’s flagellation. The young man resembles a figure in the Gonzaga court painted prominently by Mantegna c1464 in the frescoes of the Camera degli Sposi, Palazzo Ducale, Mantua. But he also feels idealised, with similar features and hair to angels painted by Piero in several paintings: the Baptism, Montefeltro Altarpiece, Senigallia Madonna, Nativity, perhaps even the angels in the Madonna del Parto.
Other commentators have attempted to identify the figures variously with King David, a doctor of the law, Cardinal Besarion (Giovanni Bacci), a Venetian senator or procurer/procurator being presented with their sash of honour, John VIII Palaeologus, Filippo Maria Visconti, Francesco Sforza, Mohammad II who had deposed the Palaeologus dynasty, Buonconte da Montefeltro, Jacopo degli Anastagi (also represented in the Polyptych of the Misericordia, the Legend of the True Cross and the Venice St. Jerome) . It may be dangerous therefore to try to interpret the painting’s political or personal connotations too precisely, as this may direct our understanding away from its true original intention.
Others read a spiritual narrative into the figures, without directly identifying them with contemporaries, though the outer two figures definitely appear to be portraits of specific people: One theory suggests that the three figures represent the conspiracy of the Sanhedrin against Christ, as they refused to enter the praetorium in order to remain ritually clean, [Jn.18:28]. Herod has been suggested to be the turbaned figure in the praetorium, watching Christ, with his back to us and the three figures were suggested to be (from left to right) a Gentile, a soldier and Joseph of Arimathea. Others relate the scene to the repentance of Judas returning the money to the conspirators, though no money-bag is represented as would be common in iconography of the scene. Other commentators suggested that the three figures are personifications of the heresies of those who have conspired together against Christ through time – Jews, Gentiles or pagans and princely leaders, or that the figures are the chief priest and a secular elder surrounding the young man, who is Christ. These two interpretations would make sense of the inscription ‘converunt in unum’, which had been wrongly removed from the panel during restoration. But the latter interpretation seems highly unlikely, as the figure is so unlike the bearded figure of Jesus being whipped in the distance. It has been suggested that this spiritual interpretation was intended as an encouragement to holiness in the Catholic Holy Year of 1450. It has further been related to a sermon by St. John Capistran, who was known as ‘the scourge of the Jews’. He maintained the Franciscan contemporary suspicion of the Jews, since the Franciscans were defenders of the sacred sites in the Holy Land.
Other commentators convincingly relate this group to Pope Pius II’s Council of Mantua called in 1459 to discuss preparations to protect Christendom and launch a crusade against the Turks who had conquered Constantinople in 1453. The rise of the Turkish Empire was threatening the Eastern Mediterranean. Further evidence for this more common interpretation seems to be offered by the figure of a turbaned man in Arab dress, with his back to us, before Pilate’s judgement seat and watching the flagellation. Kenneth Clark identified the figure of the enthroned Pilate watching over the flagellation as a portrait of John Paleologus III, the Emperor in the East and suggested that the bearded figure was his brother Thomas who had been a delegate at the 1459 Council of Mantua and visited Rome in 1461. The figures have been alternatively proposed to be Caterino Zeno and other Urbino politicians involved in the Mantua Council.
Whatever the specific interpretation of these three figures, their prominence in the composition demonstrates that they obviously have some contemporary relevance. They encourage us to consider the relevance of Christ’s sufferings to those of our present day, whether it be illness, loss, suffering or political or world events.
The setting is a Renaissance interpretation of ‘classical’ architecture, perhaps attempting to imagine the historical Roman architecture of Jerusalem. The division of the room where Christ is being punished is, however, very similar to the arrangement in many early 14th Century representations of the Flagellation, with pillars, panelled ceiling and a patterned pavement. Piero has classicised it, setting Christ’s passion in what he thought that the past might have looked like. The staircase in the background, behind Pilate’s throne, is an innovation. Compositionally it balances the angle of Pilate’s legs and hand; it leads the eye towards Christ. The staircase may relate to stairs that Jesus was said to have fallen down during the way of the Passion: the ‘Scala Santa’, a set of 28 steps in a building near San Giovanni in Lateran, which had been supposed in legend to have been rescued and brought to Rome from Pilate’s house by the Empress Helena. Christ’s trial, flagellation and sufferings are shown to be happening in the historic past yet are in some way being related to some suffering or theological or social debate in the artist’s contemporary time.
A few critics suggest that the flagellation may not be that of Christ at all, though I am not convinced by their arguments. Some relate it to the vision of St. Jerome, who represented his being flagellated as a metaphor for his intellectual struggle and being whipped before the throne of heaven for his dedication to pagan literature. According to this interpretation the three figures could be discussing philosophically the relative values and parallels between Christian, Latin and Greek thinking and literature, or the merits of different philosophical traditions. To my mind, this interpretation is unreasonable, as the iconography of the flagellation section of the panel is so close to the iconography of Christ’s Flagellation in many earlier Late-Mediaeval and Renaissance paintings. It is particularly close to image of Christ’s Flagellation on the predella of the Resurrection altarpiece from the main church in Sansepolcro (now in the Pinacoteca, Palazzo dei Priori, Sansepolcro). Piero must have known that painting well, though his own representation is more static and quiet. Only one soldier raises his hand. The other merely touches Christ’s back.
The main figures are painted in a variety of harmonious colours. Alberti’s treatise had discussed the harmony and ‘sympathy’ of colour combinations, so their robes may be intended to indicate more about the figures than we can now decipher. However the contemporary writer Lorenzo Valla had warned against giving too much meaning and dignity to the use of colour.
The golden classical statue of the ‘sol invictus’, surmounting the pillar to which Christ is bound, has also been related to the idea of the victory of right and truth, in preparation of a crusade. The flagellated Christ, the young man central to the three figures and the statue of the ‘sol invictus’ all stand contraposto, which might imply that they share significance.
Just looking at the surface 2-dimensional pattern of the rectangles that form the composition one recognises that there must be some mathematical relationship between them. In the Baptism of Christ the figures were arranged according to harmonic order, within sacred geometrical shapes. The grouping and spacing of figures throughout the Flagellation might accord with a similar harmonic progression. There may be some similar but more complex significance here. As the perspective of the painting is so carefully worked-out, the mathematical connections between the various rectangles of the composition may also be carefully arranged. In Piero’s treatises he used mathematical calculations to explain the intervals between elements as they recede in perspective. The scaling and arrangement of the architectural elements in this panel is most probably based on similar calculations. Amid the chaos of Christ’s flagellation and Passion, and the chaos of contemporary world events, the quietness of the painting may imply that God can bringing a perfect order, peace and beauty to difficult situations.
One might expect a painting of Christ’s Flagellation or any scene from the life of Jesus to focus primarily on the religious scene itself. However, the various interpretations of Piero’s painting remind us that the major aim of scripture is not to recall or relieve a scene. We are meant to be working out the relevance of scripture to our present lives so that we can apply its teachings and principles to contemporary needs.
LEGEND OF THE TRUE CROSS Chancel, San Francesco, Arezzo. 1452 -1466
Arezzo is twenty miles from Sansepolcro. Several important Italian cultural figures had originated there: Petrarch, Leonardo Bruni (the humanist Chancellor of Florence).
The main central chapel, ‘Capella Maggiore’, which these frescoes adorn, was added to the body of the Franciscan Church of San Francesco between 1366 and 1374, financed by donations from Bartolomeo do Pietramala and Pagno di Maffeo. However, within 30 years, the patronage of the chapel was taken over by another family. The rich spice merchant Baccio di Maso Bacci bought the patronage, though his family were buried in a crypt beneath the nave. He made stipulations in his will, dated 1408, for the chapel should be decorated. This was delayed partly through the Bacci family failing to begin the commission or provide for it, and in 1410, due to another rival patron, Lazzaro di Giovanni di Feo Bracchi, wishing to be buried in the chapel and dedicating a mural and glass window there. (‘Bracchi’ and ‘Bacci’ are separate families, though it is easy to confuse their names.) The Franciscans agreed to this, probably because Lazzaro was prior of a confraternity based in the church, but the Bacci family eventually consolidated their patronage and Baccio Bacci provided money for the glass window as well as the frescoes before he died in 1417. (Lazzaro, who died in 1425, was buried in Sta. Maria della Pieve in Arezzo instead.) In 1427 Bacci’s son Francesco estimated that his proportion of finance for the painting of the chapel would be 400 to 600 florins. By 1447 Baccio di Maso Bacci’s heirs Francesco Bacci and Agnolo di Girolamo Bacci and Andrea di Tomasso raised the money for the decoration through the sale of a vineyard. Vasari was himself married into the Bacci family, so one might have expected his information about it to be fairly accurate, but his account of the commission includes several mistakes, including the name of the patron of the frescoes. The importance assigned to the frescoes may be judged by the fact that a tomb in the chapel of the Blessed Sergondi was moved, to make room for Piero’s fresco of the Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes.
The Florentine painter Bicci di Lorenzo had been commissioned to begin the paintings though his style was fairly traditional and old-fashioned. He and his workshop assistants had begun work on the frescoes in 1448 and completed the Last Judgement on the exterior arch which faced Baccio di Maso Bacci’s tomb, as well as frescoes of saints and doctors of the Church on part of the arch at the entrance to the chapel and the Four Evangelists in the vaults. The Last Judgement was probably completed early, as the scaffolding for it must have made access to the chapel difficult for celebration of the daily Mass. Bicci di Lorenzo seems to have fallen seriously ill soon afterwards. He was already over 60 years and returned to Florence to recuperate, but died there in 1452. Bicci had assisted Domenico Veneziano in Florence, on the frescoes for St. Egidio at the same time as Piero, so it may have been through this connection that Piero was considered to complete the commission. Domenico himself had been working in Arezzo in 1450.
We do not know exactly when Piero was first called in to work on the frescoes, as no commissioning documents survive. He may have been already called to assist shortly after Bicci had fallen ill, or after the older painter’s departure for Florence. We know that Piero’s work on the frescoes was in phases, before and after his visit to Rome in 1458-9 and it was completed by 1466. Most of the painting was probably done from 1459, after Agnolo di Girolamo Bacci, nephew of the patron and one of the heirs who had raised the money for the work, had been elected prior of San Francesco in 1458. The family seems to have continued to default on payment, as Piero sued the heirs for payment as late as 1473 and 1486, nine then twenty years after the completion of the frescoes.
The cycle of paintings is arranged over three storeys, with each of the main scenes about 11ft. high by 27ft. wide. The theme follows the legendary stories of the wood of Christ’s Cross from the time of Adam to the power of the Cross at work in the military victories of the Byzantine Empire. Surprisingly no altarpiece is mentioned as a focus in the chapel, until later in the 16th Century, but the frescoes may have been considered sufficient focus for the devout. Their themes are, in chronological order:
The Death of Adam (Upper tier, right lunette)
The Adoration of the Holy Wood & Solomon Receiving the Queen of Sheba (2nd tier right)
The Annunciation (1st tier, left of the altar)
The Burial of the Holy Wood (2nd tier right of the altar)
The Vision of Constantine (1st tier, right of the altar)
The Victory of Constantine over Maxentius (1st tier, right)
The Torture of Judas the Jew (2nd tier, left of the altar)
The Discovery and Proof of the True Cross (2nd tier, left)
Veneration of the True Cross (Upper tier, left)
The Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes II (1st tier)
In addition Piero and his assistants also added single figures of saints within the chapel, adding to a programme of saints begun by Bicci di Lorenzo and his workshop: Newly painted saints included: Augustine, Ambrose, John the Evangelist, Bernardino and St. Louis.
The story follows the narrative of the supposed history of the wood, which formed the Cross on which Christ was to die, to the early miracles performed by the wood after the discovery of the buried Cross. Whether one believes the tales of the finding of the Cross and the miracles that accompanied it, or not, (I believe that it to be a complete invention), it is an important subject in the development of late Byzantine and medieval spirituality. It represents a vision of the triumph of faith through time towards a universal Christianity.
The link between Christ’s Cross and all Christians is significant, but perhaps was considered especially so to the Franciscans for whom these images were painted, due to their founder’s conversion through the Cross of San Damiano and his devotion to the crucifix. Francis was said to have received the stigmata on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, Sept. 14th, 1224, which gave extra emphasis to the penultimate scene in the series. The Franciscans were both caretakers of the relics and holy sites of the Holy Land and custodians of many of the chronicles, myths and anecdotes associated with the area and of the Cross. The Golden Legend, which had been compiled by the Dominican, Jacobus de Voragine, was widely known across all religious orders. It was one of the most popular volumes in the late middle ages and became the source for the majority of paintings of holy subjects and the lives of saints. The stories included in Piero’s series of images from the Legend of the True Cross all appear to be sourced from the Golden Legend.
The Franciscan community in Arezzo was believed, according to Franciscan traditions, to have been founded in 1211 after St Francis expelled demons that he saw battling in the sky above the town. The recently canonised Franciscan, St Bernardino of Siena, was also supposed to have destroyed pagan ritual at a local well, the Fonte Tecta, dating back to Roman times. The community venerated the local 13th Century friar, evangelist and missionary Benedetto Singardi (c1190-1282) who was interred in the Church. He had taken his monastic vows under Francis himself and his virtues and holiness were said to be comparable to those of Francis. Benedetto had been appointed Provincial Minister in the Marches of Ancona in 1217, then Provincial Masters in the Holy Land from 1221. He had then been based in Antioch and Constantinople and had been involved in papal negotiations for the uniting of the Greek and Latin Church between 1232-4. This was a prefiguration of the deliberations of the Council of Florence, which Piero had witnessed. This veneration of Benedetto Singardi may well have helped in the choice of the Legend, with Eastern connections as the theme for the frescoes. It also emphasised the importance of keeping the Holy Land in Christian hands, since it was under threat from the Turks and Islamic domination at this time. Benedetto Singardi was known to have regularly emphasised the role of the Cross in his preaching and was reputed to have worked miracles under its sign. According to local legends, included in Nanni d’Arezzo’s Life and Miracles of Blessed Sinigardi, he had been associated with miracles like the healing and conversion of a noble Saracen woman through the sign of a cross, was supposedly protected by an angel in the form of a dragon while on pilgrimage to Babylon to visit the tomb of the Prophet Daniel and his body was claimed to have calmed the seas on his posthumous return to Arezzo. He was also said to have been responsible for the investiture of John of Brienne as King of Jerusalem and later the Emperor of Constantinople, giving spiritual advice and counsel. All these stories linked him with the sites of scenes in the Legend of the Cross. His reverence of the Virgin Mary may also have contributed to the inclusion of the theme of the Annunciation in Piero’s frescoes. In 1441, the Benedictines had attempted to gain control of the religious sites in Holy Land, but the Franciscan’s administration had been reinforced. The focus of the frescoes on the sites and legends of the Holy Land must have reiterated the link with the Franciscans, and celebrated their continued responsibilities.
This Franciscan church in Arezzo may have commissioned the series of frescoes to emulate the famous fresco cycles in its mother- basilica at Assisi. Like Assisi it had an upper and lower church and the same dedications for its various altars: Mary, St Michael, St Francis, and the Crucifixion. The representation of the Legend of the True Cross as a pictorial cycle is rare. It is represented in a few illuminated manuscripts and fresco cycles. Cenni di Francesco painted a series in the Franciscan church in Voltera (1410), Masolino in the Augustinian church of St. Stefano in Empoli (1427) and a fragment of Parri di Spinello’s frescoes of the subject survive in the Pinacoteca in Arezzo, which Piero would no doubt have seen in the church there. Most famously, Piero may have known the fresco cycle by Agnolo Gaddi, painted between 1388-93 in the Chancel of the Franciscan church of Santa Croce in Florence, or those frescoes may have inspired delegates from Arezzo to the Franciscan General Chapter, which met in Santa Croce in 1449. There had been long-term rivalry between Florence and Arezzo for several centuries and although the Franciscan friars should have been more united, there was still rivalry between different groups of the Order. Feelings between Florence and Arezzo were particularly strained at the time since as, after a French invasion, Florence had purchased Arezzo from the victorious French in 1385 and Arezzo had lost its autonomy of rule. The city was still ruled by a Florentine governor until more than a century after Piero’s frescoes.
Piero’s frescoes surpassed those in Florence by Gaddi, which are brilliant, though more disordered in arrangement and contain far more figures. The probability that Piero had seen them is confirmed by his own images reflecting some details in Gaddi’s works. But Piero managed to give greater unity to the disordered narratives of the legend. He omitted certain scenes, particularly the Conversion of Judas the Jew, The Healing of the Sick by Contact with the Sacred Wood, and The Fabrication of the Cross, though he refers to them in parts of his work. He also simplified the format from the separate framed scenes of Gaddi’s representation , by dividing the tiers with heavy architectural mouldings painted in trompe-l’oeil, and not vertically framing each individual scene. He reduced the number of figures from those of Gaddi to create more ordered individual scenes as well as creating a sense that they all form a compositional whole. He created the idea of a coherent perspective in the scenes. Whatever tier the image is on, the scene is represented as though we are viewing it on eye level. This makes all the scenes feel at one within the space of the chapel. Mostly the scenic depth and perspective is relatively shallow, with the figures arranged in a similar way to a sculpted frieze. It is primarily the aerial perspective created by cooler colours, which creates the sense of depth. Within the space Piero also arranged the colours of robes and scenic elements to create a coherent balance and patterning around the walls. The repeated use of several figures in various guises, partly by reusing cartoons in drawing them, also adds to the sense of unity through the fresco cycle. Similarly some vertical elements in the compositions appear to run vertically into other vertical elements in the scenes above or below, visually connecting them.
The scenes are not represented on the walls in strictly chronological order, nor can they be read simply from left to right. The story reads from right of the top lunette downwards, then from left to right of the middle tier on the left hand wall down to the lower tier, before finishing in the upper lunette of the left-hand wall. Scenes with similar themes are paralleled or paired on the left and right walls of the chapel: In the 2nd tier are represented scenes where the sacredness of the wood of the Cross was recognised. The upper tier illustrates the origin of the holy wood and its veneration. In the 1st tier, nearest the level of the viewer, are the Annunciation with Constantine’s vision. The 1st tier frescoes on the side walls represent scenes of victory over paganism which were achieved by God’s power through the Cross. In addition to these scenes are the ‘cloud of witnesses’ to the power of the Cross: figures of saints in the jambs of the entrance arch, which were part of Bicci di Lorenzo’s initial plan: Fathers of the Church in niches, the figure of the Christian virtue of ‘Love’. Peter Martyr and the Archangel Michael represent the need for fighting against the enemies of Christianity. (The Archangel Michael was traditionally associated with Constantine, who was in legend reputed to have founded the monastery of Mont-San Michel.) Two prophets, thought to be Jeremiah and Ezekiel are also represented in the on the altar wall. The Annunciation scene is not usually included in the themes of the Legend of the True Cross, nor is the actual crucifixion of Christ. The latter is not present in the frescoes, but is represented on the monumental Cross hanging within the chancel arch and encountered in the Mass commemorated daily at the altar in the chapel.
An essential unity is created by the linking or paralleling of subjects: The promise of future salvation is revealed after Adam’s death to the family / the Cross where Salvation was won is revealed to the people of Jerusalem who kneel in veneration at the bringing of the gift of eternal life. The Queen of Sheba bows to the wood and reveres Solomon / the Empress Helena reveres the advice of the Jew Judas and bows before the true Cross. Constantine defeats Maxentius / Heraclius is victorious over Chosroes. On the altar wall the wood is buried / Judas is raised from a well. Constantine receives the sign of the Cross in an annunciation from an angel / Mary receives the annunciation of the coming of Christ. There are also vertical pairings or symmetries, which are not perhaps so obvious: On the right wall the size of Cross diminishes as one’s eye moves downward from a tree and branch to a beam of wood, to a small hand-held object, all containing the same miraculous power. On the right wall we move downward from the Cross held upright in triumph, behind which is the Tree of Life, to a thinner Cross, held out diagonally and bringing healing and reviving life, to a smaller form of the same Cross positioned directly below the healing Cross, proclaiming judgement and death on the infidel, Another white cross as a symbol is raised victoriously on a banner. These crosses bring both death and life. Some commentaries suggest that the three tiers may represent three phases of human history: the Patriarchs, royal and civic life and military activity. Less convincingly the scenes on the right have been suggested to refer to people and events under grace, those on the left to those under the law. Piero had probably not devised this pairing alone: the intellectual decisions over subjects would have been part of the patrons’ commissioning process and later changes made by the institution. The parallels or reflections of subjects are not just about drawing parallels between similar subjects. They imply the idea that God’s working can be seen in patterns through time. The inclusion of the final battle scene may not have been decided unti1 1456, the year of the Battle of Belgrade, which also took place on the Danube, where Heraclius had defeated Chosroes II.
The frescoes are mostly in ‘fresco buon’ (true fresco painted into wet plaster, though ‘fresco seco’ (painting over dry plaster) was used in places, especially where Piero was adding touches or detail to his work. Chemical analysis during restoration shows that Piero innovated by mixing his pigments with oils, casein or egg. The false marble ‘sockle’ or band dividing the panels was painted after the panels were completed.
The commission for a series of paintings recounting the legend of the True Cross could be regarded for the Franciscan church as much as a political statement or propaganda as being for religious or devotional purposes. In many ways the themes of the frescoes promoted the importance of maintaining the influence of the community at Arezzo, the Franciscans, and their political importance within the Christian Church. The theme emphasised the Byzantine discovery of the Cross and was politically as well as spiritually significant at the time: Constantine’s mother Helena had reputedly discovered the burial place of Christ’s Cross while on pilgrimage, searching for relics of Christ. Constantinople had been founded and built upon a Christian heritage and the survival of its Christian communities and the maintenance of the faith was seen as a priority. Constantinople had recently fallen to the Ottoman Turks in 1453, and they were in danger of moving West towards the Baltic area and Italy, threatening Venice particularly. Popes Eugenius IV and Pius II attempted to launch defensive crusades between 1448 -1464 and the banners of these crusades may be alluded to in the banners represented in the battle scenes in the frescoes. Since their early foundation the Franciscans, for whose church in Arezzo the frescoes commissioned, were the official protectors of the Holy Land, by papal decree. Francis himself had visited Antioch in 1219, and encouraged mission to the Holy Land. He had preached Christianity to the Saracens and won conversions. Arezzo felt a close connection to St. Francis. Their legends included Francis battling with demons flying above Arezzo. The recently canonised Franciscan saint Bernardino had conquered suspicion through the sign of the Cross and the local Franciscan saint Benedetto Sinigardi had converted Saracens through preaching about the Cross.
All these past Franciscan references encouraged the drawing of parallels between the contemporary vulnerable situation in the Middle East and ancient battles and struggles for the defence and promotion of Christendom which were included in the frescoes. Though Francis had become a man of peace after his military youth, many 15th Century Franciscans supported crusades and promoted the military defence of Christendom through their preaching. The Bacci family who paid for the commission gained their wealth through the spice and pharmaceutical trade. Much of their spice was sourced through the East, and freedom of trade was endangered and made more expensive by the discord. So the frescoes’ themes, which included both Eastern scenes and miraculous healing, were appropriate to the patrons’ commercial interests and aspirations, as well as the threat to their trade. The theme was also particularly relevant as Arezzo claimed that it had been the first city to convert to Christianity in 325 C.E. after Constantine declared Christianity as the official religion of the Empire. The scene of the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in which, under the sign of the Cross, Constantine won control of the Empire led to him acknowledging Christianity as the Imperial religion. This scene emphasised the importance of fighting to maintain truth. The scene of the Battle of Heraclius against the Persians reinforced the importance of the Christian fight against heresy and was seen as a parallel for the present threat from the spread of the Ottoman Empire. At the time of the planning of the frescoes (around 1446), the Florentine consul at Constantinople was a citizen of Arezzo, Giovanni Marsuppini.
The great cycles of paintings by Giotto in the order’s headquarters at Assisi may have influenced the Franciscans to commission this cycle. Francis himself was legendarily supposed to have received a vision outside the city of Arezzo. So perhaps the Franciscans of Arezzo were reinforcing their significance as a community by commissioning a cycle to complement (or rival) those of Assisi. In the 1440s, at the time of the first commissioning of the Arezzo frescoes there was much internal political rivalry within the Franciscan Order between the ‘Observants’, who, like St. Bernardino of Siena, followed Francis’s original ascetic and peripatetic aims for the Order, and the ‘Conventuals’ who followed a rule that had been amended over time, and did not demand strict poverty. The Observants took over the Franciscan church of Borgo San Sepolcro through a papal bill of 1445. The friars of Arezzo belonged to the Conventuals as did the friars at Santa Croce, Florence, who had commissioned the earlier Franciscan cycle of the Legend of the True Cross by Agnolo Gaddi. Discord between the two interpretations of the Order had disturbed the General Chapter when they met in Padua in 1443. So when the General Chapter met again in 1449 it was deliberately divided: The Conventuals met in Santa Croce and the Observants’ meeting was held in nearby Mugello. It may have been at this Chapter of Conventuals that the friars of Arezzo had time to particularly study Gaddi’s recently completed cycle of paintings of the Legend of the True Cross and consolidated the programme for the Arezzo cycle.
The emphasis on the Cross was something which both the Conventuals and Observants shared, so there is a possibility that the friars of Arezzo, who traced their foundation to the time of St Francis and his disciple Beato Benedetto, intended the theme to be a unifying factor. Contemporary popes had attempted to promote Franciscan unity, through emphasising the traditional subject of Franciscan mission and preaching. Francis had particularly encouraged his brothers to promote the Cross and convert non-believers to faith in Christ through it.
The themes of the cycle were largely found in the Dominican Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend, with its stories of the lives of the saints. On two feast days in May and September this popular mediaeval book described the history of the wood of the Cross from the death of Adam to the miracles performed after its rediscovery by Helena, mother of Constantine. The Golden Legend does not describe the scenes in exactly chronological order, which may account for the strange ordering of the scenes upon the walls of the chapel. Gaddi’s frescoes in Santa Croce, Florence, are even more disordered; while Piero formed them into a visually reasonable arrangement.
When working in Rimini, Piero may have seen the two large Flemish tapestries of the Life of Charlemagne in the collection of the Malatestas, which are possibly a source for some of the imagery in the cycle. An architect working on the chapel in Arezzo, Agostino di Duccio, had earlier worked in Ravenna. (He had been involved in Sigismondo di Malatesta’s stripping of marble from the church of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe). Agostino’s memories of the Procession of the Empress Theodora in the Ravenna frescoes may have influenced Piero’s depiction of the Procession of the Queen of Sheba, though Piero will not have seen these, so did not know of the frontality of the Ravenna figures.
For many years the scenes of the Legend were in bad condition. It had been damaged and repaired after an earthquake in 1483. Metal stays and cramps which had been used to stabilise the walls corroded, causing areas of lost plaster; salts, rust and fugitive pigments have damaged some areas of colour as well as altering the pigmentation and tonal contrasts. Prior to more recent restoration much of the damage to these frescoes was caused by Napoleon’s troops, who used the figures for target practice after invading the town. Their destructivity may have been encouraged by the size or nature of the figures, which were considered ‘primitive’, or just military disdain and high spirits. In Franz Kruger’s Handbook of the History of Painting (1837) the Arezzo frescoes were described as “now almost ruined”. It is therefore thanks to the sensitivity of restorers and stabilisers that so much of the images are now able to be appreciated.
The Death of Adam
The depiction of this subject is rare in art. It is set in a grove of palms and fruit trees, reminding us of borders of the Edenic garden which Adam and Eve legendarily lost through sin. Adam is represented as an old and emaciated naked man, reclining in front of his clothed wife, who supports his head. His pose reflects a common iconographic pose for the Creation of Adam. He seems to be giving instructions to three of his semi-clad offspring who look on deep in thought. The oldest son, bending forward to hear his father’s words, probably represents Seth, the elder son after Abel and Cain. In the Golden Legend, Adam was said to have instructed Seth to return to Eden and request ‘a few drops of oil from the Tree of Mercy’ that would bring an end to human punishment for sin and from which the gift of eternal life could grow. This is probably the scene depicted in the middle distance, where the elderly man is speaking to the Archangel Michael who guards the entrance to Eden. The expression of the angel is stern as he was telling Seth in the legend that the time for reconciliation through salvation had not yet come. However, he offered Seth a branch of sacred wood from the Tree of Mercy in the garden, which would be the source of salvation. Another version of the Legend, related in Honorius’ Imagine Mundi’, tells that the archangel gave Seth a kernel or seed, but this would not have been as visually effective as the branch. By the time Seth returned his father had died so he planted the branch over Adam’s grave. One aspect of the story, not in the Golden Legend, claims that the branch was planted in Adam’s mouth, which had been the cause of the curse of sin, when he ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
In the second half of the mural Seth plants the source of eternal life, which will grow to form the wood which is the subject of the narrative in the cycle of frescoes. The future promise of life in that wood seems to be symbolised by the enormous tree in the background of the two scenes.
In front of the dying Adam a young naked man, seen from behind, leans on a staff, which may relate to this branch. The prominence of his branch helps to focus emphasis upon the wood from which the Cross will come, as well as providing a linear emphasis to the composition. His pose may derive from the iconography of mourning figures in classical statuary and ceramics. This is also similar to mediaeval iconography of the figure of the younger Adam resting on his spade. A female descendent is clad in a black animal skin. This hides her nakedness, but the black skin and the apprehension on her face as she looks out at us, suggests that she recognises that she has inherited Original Sin through Adam and Eve.
The Burial of Adam
The linked, more damaged scene on the upper tier represents Adam’s burial, surrounded by Adam’s large family. Seth plants the branch over Adam’s grave. The whole composition of the two scenes is dominated by a huge tree which fills the arch of the lunette. This tree, which balances the emphasis on the form of the Cross in the opposite lunette, originally must have appeared more full of life than is visible today. Infra-red lighting reveals that it was formerly covered with coloured leaves and sprouting buds, which have degenerated over time. The legend relates that at the point of Adam and Eve’s Fall, the Tree of Life withered and blackened. However when the Archangel Michael promised future salvation to Seth, the tree was said to have regenerated and bloomed. The huge tree possibly represents this aspect of the legend, as well as future promise of the Tree of Life in Revelation 22, which will offer healing to the nations. It also suggests a family tree of enormous generations that will arise from Adam’s seed and share in the blessings of the promise in the wood, as well as disseminating the curse of Original Sin. This was an allegorical feature that was used by Franciscans in their preaching of the message of Original Sin and the way of redemption.
Although the figure of Eve dramatically stretches her hands in expressive grief, there are several signs of hope in this painting. Her arms reflect the stretch of the branches of the enormous tree. Sin will in time be resolved to bring about the promise of salvation. On the extreme left a youthful figure dressed in white speaks to a man robed in black. They seem posed to suggest that they have heard the promise of salvation and recognise the presence of hope. In the foreground, watching the scene, is the only figure in brightly coloured robes of blue and red, the colours of heaven and human flesh. This may represent Christ, though he is unbearded, or a significant saint recognising the promise of salvation in the stories.
The scenes of Adam’s death are partly linked with the theme of the Annunciation fresco: The date of the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25th, was believed in legend to be the date on which Adam was born and also the date on which he died. It was also considered to have been the date of Christ’s Crucifixion. In the Annunciation scene, Mary is being offered a palm branch by the archangel, which was, again according to popular legend, a gift brought from the Garden of Eden, from which humanity had so far been exiled, but which Mary’s ‘Immaculate Conception’ allowed her to receive. Her son’s birth would reopen the promise of Paradise to the believer and regain eternal life, symbolised by the evergreen leaf of the palm and the tree of life dominating the Adam fresco.
Adoration of the Holy Wood
The Queen of Sheba is represented in blue, the colour of Mary, of whom she may be intended to be a type of the wise woman. Representative of the gentile world she came in humility to seek further wisdom. Her pose in praying before the Holy Wood at the centre of the scene, is almost the iconographic pose of the angel of the Annunciation.
According to the legend, the tree growing from Adam’ grave grew so profusely and beautifully that Solomon ordered that it should be felled for his majestic palace. The wood was found to have supernatural properties. In whatever way the planks were cut, they continued to alter in size. In frustration, King Solomon had them formed into a bridge across the Pool of Siloam over which The Queen of Sheba was to cross as she came seeking the wisdom of Solomon. As she approached, she recognised the sanctity of the wood of the bridge and knelt in veneration. In Piero’s fresco the beam of wood is positioned directly below the burial of Adam, visually linking the two subjects The queen prophesied to Solomon in a letter that “upon this tree would be hanged the man whose death would put an end to the Kingdom of the Jews.”
The queen’s retinue include grooms with horses and several women in brightly coloured, high-fashion robes. They all have serious expressions on their faces, as they approach, seeking truth and wisdom. All the figures have elegant proportions, presenting them as perfect representatives of human beings. In this section of the fresco the queen is robed in brown, with a blue cloak lined with white. It indicates that this is her woollen travelling dress, which is replaced in the adjacent scene with her royal white robe. The two grooms accompanying the queen wear broad brimmed hats of travellers.
Solomon Receives the Queen of Sheba
To the right of the approach of Sheba Piero depicted Solomon receiving her in his palace. The story originated in 2Chron.9:3.] This scene is hardly mentioned in detail in the Golden Legend, nor is it represented in Agnolo Gaddi’s cycle in Santa Croce, but is significant in terms of Christ’s mention of it in the Gospels [Matt.12:42; Lk.11:31]. The theme of their meeting was also seen as a parallel with the Adoration of the Magi. It was seen as a prefiguration of the acceptance of Christ’s Gospel by the Gentiles. Though she approaches the beam of the bridge from the left in the first half of the fresco, she enters Solomon’s palace from the right, distinguishing the one scene form the other. For the figures in the court Piero reused the cartoons for several of the women in the queen’s retinue in reverse. The classical pillars of the court form the frame for the scene and create depth by their recession in perspective. The walls and ceiling are lined with red and green marble. The main central pillar is directly in line with the enormous tree in the lunette above, adding to the sense of compositional unity, but also providing a visual link between the two scenes. Just as Adam died, the old dispensation, represented here by Solomon would die.
The queen bows in homage to Solomon, recognising the superiority of his knowledge. It is significant that her bow is not as great as that with which she acknowledged the holiness of the holy wood of the bridge. As in the former scene, the women in the Queen’s retinue look on in silent seriousness, recognising the significance of this meeting.
The white cloth decorated with gold, worn by both the Queen of Sheba and Solomon represents their opulence and regal status. The colour, patterning and particularly the quality of material which people wore signified their status. This ‘white cloth of gold’ is patterned with a stylised flora, in a thistle or pine-cone motif. In Piero’s time, wearing white cloth-of gold was regarded as the dress of rulers and their immediate family. It is worn by Sigismondo Malatesta and St. Sigismondo in Piero’s Rimini fresco. Mary was sometimes represented as ‘Queen of Heaven’ in a cloak of white cloth-of-gold.
The scene in the legend probably became so significant because Jesus himself referred to coming of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon as an image of the wise coming to himself in search of wisdom and truth: “The queen of the south... came from the extremities of the earth to listen to the wisdom of Solomon; and, behold, a greater than Solomon is here” [Matt.12:42; Lk.11:31]. Mediaeval and Renaissance commentators sometimes related this meeting of Solomon and Sheba to the marriage of Christ with his church, echoing their interpretation of the Song of Solomon as a love song between Christ and his bride.
However, in the legend, the recognition of the holiness of the wood by the Queen of Sheba led to a prediction that the wood would cause the destruction of Solomon’s kingdom, so he ordered that it be buried (or drowned according to a different legendary source). Solomon does not appear to his best in this aspect of the story, in attempting to destroy the power of the wood.
Solomon is represented in the robes of a Renaissance prince, and his wisdom was often related to the search for intellectual knowledge by contemporary noble courts. Nobles, princes, kings and emperors were often accorded or praised as having the wisdom of Solomon. It has been suggested that Piero’s image of Solomon could be a portrait of Cardinal Bessaroin, who in September 1458 had been appointed protector of the Franciscan Order. The scarlet robe and cap of the man on the left of the scene indicate that he is a doctor of the law. This may be intended to depict the learning of Solomon’s court, but it also contains a specifically Christian symbolism – that the rule of the grace of Christ will replace the rule of Law, as argued in the Book of Romans. Reading the stories in the light of modern understanding, there are uncomfortable aspects of the Legend of the True Cross. Western feelings were hostile to about Jews and Muslims at this time and the bias against both is prominent in the frescoes. This is not to imply that Piero or the Franciscans were themselves anti-Semitic; yet Jews were popularly distrusted as they were regarded as responsible for attempting to destroy the threat to their monopoly on faith by killing Christ, just as Solomon attempted to reject or destroy the Holy Wood. It seems significant to the invention of the story and its expansion in mediaeval times, that the wisest of Jewish kings was represented as not recognising or accepting the importance of the sacred promise in the wood, while a gentile queen was represented as having spiritual insight into its universal significance.
Annunciation
This theme seems out of place within the legend of the True Cross, but Christ’s incarnation stands at the pivotal point between the Old and New Covenants. It is probable that its inclusion was at the request of the patrons, not the invention of Piero himself. Its justification may be related to Nanni d’Arezzo’s Life and Miracles of Blessed Sinigardi, who was buried within the church. Sinigardi composed the Angelus prayer, which evoked the Annunciation and was sung or said after every evening service of Compline in the Church. The Annunciation therefore had particular links with the Franciscan saint buried within the church. It also evoked the involvement of the Holy Trinity in Christ’s Incarnation, which was particularly relevant to the blasphemy against the Trinity which was represented as being punished in the adjacent fresco of Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes II. The pious devotion of the Franciscans to Mary was a characteristic of their Order.
From the late 13th Century, indulgences had been granted to worshippers who attended church on the feast-days of three Franciscan saints who were depicted on the jams of the chapel and on the feast-days of Mary. It is therefore possible that the inclusion of the Annunciation painting may have partly related to this devotion. The fresco is divided vertically and horizontally into four key segments and it is probable that they deliberately form a cross, which compositionally relates the picture to the theme of the Legend depicted in the series.
Mary stands in a dramatic classical architectural setting. Its splendour suggests that this is not intended to be her simple home, but the Temple where, according to some legends, she was a handmaiden and wove the veil of the Temple which was torn apart at the moment of Christ’s death. The angel, traditionally represented in profile, genuflects before Mary, with a gesture of blessing. He carries a small palm frond ( a symbol of the eternal promise of paradise which the coming Christ will achieve). Above the angel God the Father, concealed from Mary’s view behind a cloud directs the scene, releasing golden rays that stream towards Mary’s womb. Behind the angel is an elaborately carved and decorated door. This may be a reference to Mary’s virginity, related by mediaeval commentators to the prophetic door of the sanctuary, in Ezekiel, which none could enter but the Lord: “... the outer gate of the sanctuary, which faces east was shut. The Lord said to me “This gate shall remain shut; it shall not be opened, and no one shall enter by it, for the Lord, the God of Israel, has entered by it; therefore it shall remain shut. Only the prince, because he is a prince, may sit in it to eat food before the Lord; he shall enter by way of the vestibule of the gate and shall go out by the same way.” [Ezek.44:1-3]. The Angel Gabriel seems to be literally at the one-storey ‘vestibule of the gate’, stepping towards the colonnade in which Mary stands.
Mary herself is a robust figure, with broad hips, not the slight young woman of Fra Angelico’s Annunciations. She fills the portico. Unusually the Composite style columns are not fluted, which Piero and his contemporaries would have known well was a requirement of the architectural order. As thy draw attention to themselves for this anomaly, and may be a reference to Mary’s simple virginity. Mary seems out of proportion to the architecture, but this may be deliberate. She is the same height as the column, which may be a reference to Mary as being a pillar of the Church. She carries a bible, as though she has just been interrupted in her reading and holds the page open with her finger. The gesture of her other raised hand is unusual for Annunciation pictures. She seems to be accepting, questioning and defending her position at the same time. Piero was careful in the gestures he chose; this gesture was probably a deliberate innovation, drawn from life to obtain the greatest meaning through the movement of the hand.
Above Mary, the window with its shutter open is a common symbol of Mary’s virginity being open to God. She had been the closed window of the Song of Songs [2:9] and Ezekiel [44:1-3], who only God was allowed to enter. Yet beside the window is a curious, meticulously painted, architectural detail. The bar, perhaps designed to hold an awning, is supported on a hooked strut from which a ring hangs. This is like the rings which held lines of washing, carpets for beating or displayed banners on feast-days. The shadow of the bar on the wall deliberately passes through this ring, which is probably a deliberate reference to Christ entering the womb of Mary. In many earlier Annunciation paintings the stream of light from heaven, bringing the Christ-child is shown entering at Mary’s ear, representing the belief that at the Annunciation, Mary’s pregnancy came through hearing the message of the angel, leaving her virginity unmolested. However Piero directed the focus of the beams of golden light coming from the figure of God towards Mary’s womb.
Behind Mary the wall is decorated with a complex trompe-l’oeil pattern rather like some of the marquetry patterns of Urbino. This probably also has some symbolic connotation, relating to the meeting of different dimensions within Mary, as well as representing Piero’s love of geometry.
The Transportation and Burial of the Wood
This panel is a much lighter treatment of the subject than most of the scenes. It does not represent Solomon rejecting the wood, but simply three dishevelled men, stripped to their shifts, straining to upend and bury the heavy knotty beam of the sacred wood of the Cross. Solomon aimed to prevent it from veneration and destroy its power. Their postures resemble that of Christ in scenes of Jesus carrying the cross on the route to Calvary and Simon of Cyrene helping him. For a religious setting, so close to the altar, on the altar-wall, there seem comic, or almost sacrilegious aspects to the representation of the scene. Despite being simple workmen, the attention given to them and the detail of their faces and poses is carefully observed. This implies the importance of the attempted rejection of the wood to the whole narrative. Like the story of Judas the Jew which it balances, this does not represent Hebrew figures in the most honest light. The back figure is garlanded with leaves, rather like depictions of the drunken Silenus or Bacchus. The central figure hoisting the plank with a pole appears to be straining with the effort, but also not quite sober. The foremost figure, with falling stockings, shamelessly seems unaware that his genitals are exposed beneath his undergarments.
The hole in which they attempt to bury the beam is hardly visible, while the plank itself is given the most significant emphasis. It may be intended to relate to the altar below, to which it points, as the place where the benefits of the blessing obtained on the Cross would be shared in the Mass.
The Torture of Judas the Jew
In the Legend, this Judas, by contrast with Judas Iscariot, was supposed to have been the grandson of the brother of St. Stephen. In some versions of the Legend the brother had remained a secret Christian during the time of persecution. In other accounts Judas himself was a secret Christian, or had remained a Jew and was converted after the finding of the True Cross. Judas was supposedly the only man left who knew where the Holy Cross had been buried after Christ’s crucifixion at Golgotha. (This is of course another false aspect of the story since we know that the Romans reused their crosses and crossbeams many times.) When questioned by the Empress Helena’s officials he refused to tell his secret so was thrown into a dry well for several hours until he recanted and revealed its whereabouts. Here we see him being pulled by a rope and pulley from imprisonment. He is raised by hair and figure dressed in the rich blue robe and headdress of a contemporary Constantinople official or member of a Renaissance court. This man’s hat is labelled with the word ‘prudence’, suggesting that Judas does not yet realise that the confession is being forced out of him for his own good and the good of the world. In revealing his secret to the Empress Helena, Judas would become her spiritual confidant, and was to be later consecrated as Bishop of Jerusalem. In some ways the theme reflects the torture of people by inquisition, which was also considered to be for their own eternal good. The theme of the raising of Judas has been likened by some to the resurrection of Christ, a parallel with the Burial of the Wood as Christ carrying his Cross.
The lack of emotion on the faces to the men torturing of the Jew reflects the lack of sentiment towards the Jews and Muslims in the contemporary Italy of Piero, as well as the distrust of Judaism and Islam in the time of Constantine. Visually the wooden tripod by whose pulley Judas is being raised, balances the wooden plank being buried, represented in the fresco on the opposite side of the altar wall. The three figures raising the Jew also balance the three figures raising and attempting to bury the Holy Wood. As the fresco of the Burial of the Wood was linked to the adjoining fresco of the Queen of Sheba recognising the wood and visiting Solomon, this fresco of the discovery of its whereabouts is linked in theme and visually to the adjoining fresco on the right hand wall of the chapel, representing the Empress Helena discovering and proving the True Cross.
That fresco represented the ignorance of the Jewish wise king in attempting to destroy the sacred promise. The fresco of the torture of Judas represented a scene that would lead to Christian enlightenment and healing. The contrast of the two cultures might also be suggested by the dishevelled appearance of the Jewish labourers burying the wood and the neat, elegant dress of the Christian labourers raising Judas.
The Discovery of the True Cross
The scenes of the finding of the True Cross are commemorated in the ‘Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross’ (3rd May). Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, is representing instructing the workmen to dig in the place identified by Judas, near the temple of Venus, built by the Emperor Hadrian in Jerusalem. The figure in white robes with a maroon hat and short blonde hair is probably intended to be Judas, re-clothed and far smarter now that he has been converted. (In other versions of the legend he revealed openly that he has been a secret Christian. In the Legend he became a member of Helena’s retinue, her spiritual advisor and later Bishop of Jerusalem. The white robe may be intended to represent the fact that his faith is no longer kept secret.
Piero’s composition is similar to that represented in several illustrations of the scene in manuscripts and a few larger paintings. However Piero’s representation includes innovations. In front of the Bishop of Jerusalem standing beside Helena (his head is damaged and no longer visible) stands a bearded court dwarf. The workmen wear turbans and short white tunics, like those in the Burial of the Holy Wood, identifying them as locals. Their supervisors wear white caps and longer red robes. One workman, half emerging from the pit which he has dug, helps a supervisor in green to raise a cross from its burial place, while the two supervisors to the right support another of the three crosses upright. As in the composition of the Death of Adam, all the figures are arranged in a semicircle around and the central event of the two figures raising the cross. All are intent on watching the event, though Judas looks away, gesturing to Helena.
As in the Baptism of Christ, the scene is framed by two hills in the background. The town of Arezzo is strongly visible between them, being deliberately identified with Jerusalem as a holy city. This may relate to a story from the life of St. Francis, which would have been significant to the Franciscan Order in Arezzo. Constantine had designated a Saint Sylvester as Pope. Francis had been travelling with a priest companion, named Sylvester after the saint. Outside the walls of Arezzo, Sylvester had begun to doubt his faith but was re-convinced and converted through being granted a vision: He has seen Francis with a golden cross emerging from his mouth, reaching to heaven, with its arms embracing the earth. Sylvester joined Francis’s Order and became one of their most trusted friars.
Visually the Empress and her retinue of women in this fresco parallel the women in the retinue of the Queen of Sheba, again demonstrating Piero’s aim to unify the scenes in the cycle and draw parallels between various elements of the story.
The Proof of the True Cross
This scene is linked by the background landscape to the scene of the Discovery of the Cross. In the first half of the fresco two of the three crosses supposedly dug up by Helena were shown. Here is the third. Piero did not confuse the composition by showing the three crosses twice. One of Helena’s officials holds the third cross over the body of a young man whose coffin was being carried to a funeral. As he emerges alive from his coffin, an old man behind the cross, presumably the young man’s father, kneels in prayer and thanksgiving, looking up at the crossbeam in devotion. In response to the miracle the Empress and her ladies also kneel in reverence. In a significant compositional detail, her praying hands are positioned exactly in front of the wood of the cross. This makes it appear that she is tentatively touching the sacred wood, while she in not in fact doing so out of reverence. As in the first part of the fresco, all the figures gaze intently at the Cross and the miracle. In the exact centre of the group, just as in the Discovery of the Cross, is a figure seen from the back leading our line of vision into the most important feature of the scene. This time it is in green, like the central figure in the first section who raised the Cross, but she is one of the Empress’s court.
To the right are a group of three on-lookers, men in the robes of Jerusalem, wearing the elaborate headgear that Piero associated with Constantinople and the Near-Eastern Church.
Piero’s representation of Helena is very similar to that of the Queen of Sheba in the same position on the opposite wall. The two frescoes of the recognition of the Holy Wood are very similar in theme. Both contain a retinue of women; both have one scene set against a landscape and the other dominated by architecture painted as if panelled in coloured marble; both show a miracle of revelation and spiritual understanding turning a pagan into a believer.
The basilica-like building behind the figures is probably intended to represent the Temple of Venus, built by Hadrian, which Helena ordered to be demolished. On the site of the Temple, Helena commissioned a new Christian basilica to be built, covering the spot where the Cross had been buried, so the building may be intended to represent either. This form of Renaissance architecture was not of course known at the time of Constantine, , but it adds a significant parallel between the ancient world and Piero’s contemporary Italy. The domed building on the extreme right is a fictional representation of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, known primarily from representations on souvenirs brought back by pilgrims. This was among the sacred places protected and administered by the Franciscan friars in the Holy Land.
Though the buildings seem out of proportion to the large figures, they are actually correct. As in the Flagellation, the perspective of the architecture is represented in true relationship to the size of the figures and could probably be accurately reconstructed. As the architecture is so similar to the classical-revival architecture of Piero’s contemporary Italy a spiritual as well as architectural link may be being suggested between the early Imperial Church and the new churches of Renaissance Italy, particularly as Arezzo is represented in the first half to the fresco. At the time Pope Pius II was planning a similar-looking church for a new city which he was building at Pienza. The buildings to the extreme right are certainly those of a Renaissance city, including a grey stone palace and a domed cathedral in the background which looks less like the Temple in Jerusalem than an Italian Renaissance ‘duomo’.
The Vision of Constantine.
The Emperor Constantine had links with Arezzo. They were proud that their first bishop had been appointed Pope by Constantine. There are varying early accounts of the Emperor Constantine’s vision of the Cross, which encouraged him to adopt the Christian faith and proclaim it as the official faith of his Empire. An angel was said to have appeared to him at night on the eve of battle (represented on the adjacent wall) and revealed the sign of the Cross. The visitor did not explain its meaning, but told the Emperor that he would achieve victory through this sign: “In hoc signo vinces”/ “By this sign you will conquer”. The emperor is shown asleep in his tent, with the doorway drawn apart to reveal the scene within. His raised chest and head suggest that he is responding to the message of the angel. He is guarded by two soldiers, armed with a spear and sceptre-like cudgel. The gesture of one implies that he may recognise intuitively that something mysterious is occurring, which he cannot see. The spear of the other soldier points the viewer’s attention visually towards the angel above. Constantine’s servant, meanwhile, rests awake against his bed, seemingly unaware of what is happening within. He mournfully rests his head on his hands and looks melancholy. The (sadly damaged) angel streaks in, dramatically lighting the night scene from above and making the whole image appear like a vision. I am not sure whether the position of the pole of the emperor’s tent as if rising from his bed is intentional, but it resembles the tree rising from the loins of Jesse, which could be a sign of the holy realm that will arise from Constantine’s conversion. In some representations of the Crucifixion we see the dead Adam beneath the Cross. As mentioned earlier the pillar in the scene of Solomon’s palace rises visually to the Tree of Life in the fresco of the Burial of Adam above. Here the mournful bodyguard beside the sleeping emperor could be a sign of the imminent death of paganism and the awakening of Christianity as a world religion.
The angel’s pose and lighting is dramatic. He is foreshortened and upside-down. His outstretched arm points to the emperor with one finger, while holding out a small golden Cross. This Cross is perhaps less powerfully seen today, as it has lost most of its original gilding, but even when it was painted, it can hardly have been clear from a distance. It probably drew attention through reflecting the light of candles in the chapel. In other paintings of the scene by other artists the cross often appears huge in the sky above, but here its message is conveyed by the dramatic light which illuminates the scene and renders the wing of the angel transparent. It is almost as if the Cross itself is the source of light, like a brilliant torch irradiating the scene. Although it creates strong highlights and shadows on the tent and figures, unusually, the guards and servant do not cast shadows on the ground themselves, which may be an intentional inventive idea of Piero’s, to indicate that this light is the Emperor’s vision and not witnessed by those surrounding him. The powerful light and smallness of the Cross seems to indicate that the Cross itself is not necessarily the most significant feature of the theme of the Legend, but the power of God behind it. This would have been particularly significant for a church holding a fragment of the True Cross as a relic, as this Franciscan community did. Most of the supposed fragments dispersed around Christendom were tiny. Their power was considered to lie in the presence of the power of God within them and through them, independent of their relative size. God’s power and the salvation achieved through the Cross had lit the world.
Though night scenes had been represented in mediaeval manuscripts, this was an innovation in monumental art. Leonardo da Vinci developed the importance of chiaroscuro, but the drama of Piero’s light effect in this fresco would not be rivalled until Caravaggio and his followers. Few of them managed to rival the sense of mystery created in Piero’s image, which draws one’s attention as one enters the chapel. It is to the right of the altar, just above the height of the viewer, while the Annunciation balances it on the left. Both scenes represent the vision of an angel bringing a significant divine message. The beginnings of the life of Christ, and the beginnings of worldwide Christendom flank the altar on which the sacrifice of Christ is commemorated.
The Victory of Constantine over Maxentius
The Battle at the Milvian Bridge, where Constantine defeated Maxentius, his rival for the leadership of the Empire, is pivotal for the transformation of the Roman Empire from paganism to Christianity. Eusebius, in his ancient ‘Life of Constantine’ compared the significance of Constantine’s battle against the pagans to Moses’ triumph over the Egyptians at the crossing of the Red Sea. He called Constantine ‘The New Moses’, leading his people into the promise of Christianity. Here Constantine holds out the tiny gold Cross towards the Tiber and the retreating army, rather as Moses was represented as commanding the opening and closing of the Red Sea by raising his staff. St. Francis, the patron of the order who commissioned the frescoes, was also called ‘the New Moses’ by his followers, which may be why so much emphasis is placed upon Constantine, and why this scene is so prominent in the chapel fresco.
The two armies are separated by a valley with a peaceful river which looks more like the quiet Tiber of the Alte Valle Tiberina near Arezzo than the area of the Milvian Bridge, nearer Rome. Far more dominance is given to Constantine’s army than the fleeing army. The soldiers are more powerfully armoured; even the horses are stronger, with brows forcefully facing the fleeing army. The enemy soldiers are mostly helmetless and look backwards in fear as they flee. One is semi-naked, riding an emaciated white horse. The representation of the battle scenes may be influenced by the works of Pisanello, which Piero may have seen in Pisa or in Mantua, where Pisanello painted jousting scenes in the Ducal Palace. They also resemble some of the battle reliefs on the Arch of Constantine, but we cannot be sure that Piero had seen these.
The various elements of the battle are represented as one progressive scene across the whole length of the wall. Unfortunately over time the right side of the panel has been more comprehensively damaged, but we know a little more of what it looked like from copies made in the early 19th Century. The legend tells that Constantine prayed that he would win the battle without incurring Roman deaths, so Piero does not depict any actual fighting. Maxentius had sabotaged the bridges round Rome and in retreat temporarily forgot this, causing the defeat of his own retreating army when the weakened bridge collapsed. The emphasis of the story on a bridge, may be intentionally connected to the theme of the bridge of holy timber above, through which the Queen of Sheba recognised the significance and sacredness of the wood. As in the Vision of Constantine, the emphasis on the Cross is subtle. In neither the Battle scene, nor the angel revealing the sign of the Cross to the sleeping Emperor was the Cross dominant, just a small golden cross being held out towards the scene. This may be intentional, to show the spiritual power exerted by redemption through the Cross, rather than emphasising its visual dominance. As the distributed relics of the supposed True Cross were often tiny, perhaps it might be again stressing to those venerating the local relic, that a small fragment contained as much spiritual power as the whole.
Piero created the effect of a crowd of soldiers through the massed lances behind the few horsemen who are represented. The march of Constantine’s army is represented quite calmly and confidently. The soldiers are in both contemporary Milanese armour and an interpretation of ancient Roman armour. The bearded Constantine in a peaked or visored hat or imperial helmet is visible, riding a white horse, beyond the armoured soldier on a chestnut horse. The style of his headgear clearly resembles that of Pilate in the Piero’s painting of the Flagellation of Christ. It is likely therefore that it was a form of headgear that Piero he knew and regarded as a symbol of authority. (It is also worn by Maxentius and the emperor in the other battle scene opposite.) Constantine holds before him a small, originally-gilded Cross, similar to that which the angel holds out in the Vision of Constantine. On the dome of his hat is a small pointed crown, which is probably Piero’s way of indicating that his victory is assured. On the extreme left, a captain on a white rearing horse leads the charge, heralded by a trumpeter behind him. Before the Cross the enemy army flees, but in their chaos they fall into the trap that they themselves have laid within the river. Maxentius, wearing the same style of headdress as Constantine, but without a crown, is represented on the left bank, beneath the flag displaying a basilisk. Some historians believe that his features are based on images of Mohammad II who had proclaimed himself Emperor over the Romans in 1462, but we cannot be certain that this date accords with the painting of the fresco. Behind him a soldier struggles in the water, while another soldier flees naked on a white horse. There are similarities here with Michelangelo’s later battle scene of soldiers struggling in the waters.
Several art-historians point to the resemblance between the representation of Constantine and the head of the former Emperor of Byzantium, John III Palaeologus, who had recently died in 1448. The Emperor had attended the Council of Florence, where Piero may have seen him, or the image may be based on Pisanello’s 1439 medal, made at the time of the Council, where he wears the same style of hat with a crown as Constantine and Maxentius and Herod in the Flagellation. (Piero had already used a medal by Pisanello as the model for his portrayal of St. Sigismondo in the fresco in Rimini). As Palaeologus had sought support at the Council against the threat to his empire from the advance of the Turks, this association with Constantine and his enemies seems relevant and appropriate. Constantinople fell to the Mamluk Turks in 1453, during the time that Piero was working on the chapel frescoes, and the Pope was attempting to rally support for a crusade against the Turkish advance.
There are obvious links between Constantine’s battle for the control of Rome, the Franciscan struggle in the Holy Land and the threat to the survival of Christendom against the rise of the Turks. This had even more local significance through the connection of the Franciscan Benedetto Sinigardi, interred in the church, who had been Provincial Master in the Holy Land, had installed John of Brienne both as ruler of Jerusalem and Constantinople and attempted with Pope Innocent IV to unify the Eastern and Western Church..
The Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes II
This battle is represented on the opposite side wall to the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, in the same tier, comparing the winning of the Empire with the Victory of the Cross. The Byzantine Emperor Heraclius fought against the Sassanian Persian King Chosroes II in the summer of 628 C.E. Three centuries after Helena’s supposed discovery of the Cross the relic was stolen by the Persians, reputedly for its magical powers. The legend claims that Chosroes set it up to the right of his throne, in a gold and silver tower, from which he aimed to rule the world, and as a necromancer, to rule the cosmos. His main heresy was to try to form an unholy Trinity between himself as a God, the power of the Cross and his own version of the Holy Spirit, set on the left side of his throne, which is represented by the black cockerel on the pillar beside his throne in Piero’s fresco. The Cross was won back at this battle and the heretic deposed and executed. Heraclius returned the Cross to Jerusalem on 14th Sept. 628, the day commemorated by the Church as ‘The Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross’. Unlike the battle of Constantine, which had been bloodless, the Battle of Heraclius was one of force.
Former representations of this theme had often simply shown the two emperors or their two sons in hand-to-hand combat on a bridge, as recounted in the legend. Piero is perhaps the first artist to have represented the mass battle itself. The artist combined several aspects of the event in one image: the battle, the retrieval of the Cross and the trial, judgement and execution of Chosroes. He shows a combination of various soldiers: foot soldiers, mercenaries, slaves, a trumpeter, officers and cavalry with several horses. As with the representation of the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, these are clothed both in leather classical armour and the metal armour of Piero’s time. Piero massed them tightly, showing a large number of details behind each other within a fairly shallow depth, close to the picture plane. As with Constantine’s battle, he created the sense of masses and movement through the angles of lances various weapons in the background.
The Persian king is seen kneeling awaiting execution, in front of his empty throne beneath the arched canopy decorated with stars to suggest his universal pretentions. The large wooden Cross is being held up to him as he is flanked by two soldiers. To reinforce the suggestion of his blasphemy, his face is an evil version of the face of God seen on the same tier in the Annunciation fresco. Three witnesses to his execution stand behind him, wearing 15th Century costume which makes them seem more obviously to be portraits of Piero’s contemporaries. It has been surmised that these are three members of the Bacci family, the patrons of the chapel frescoes. This would demonstrate their political and spiritual support for the contemporary call to defend Christendom against the threat from the Turks after the fall of Constantinople. Vasari identified two as Agnolo di Girolamo Bacci and Carlo Bacci; the other may be Francesco di Baccio.
This linking of our present day experiences with historic events is an important aspect of spiritual contemplation. History, scripture and spiritual traditions can provide models to guide our present activities. But we should not always act in the same ways as past examples might suggest. The Legend of the True Cross was used too politically in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, to justify distrust and torture of the Jews and crusades against Isalm. Today, hopefully, understandings of Christian principles encourage us to develop a more inclusive and peaceful response to diversity of belief. Yet we also need to be aware that not all actions and beliefs are equally true and we should challenge any individuals, institutions or systems which, in similar ways to Chosroes, place themselves in the position of gods. Our challenge, however, needs to be aware of the wrongs, violence and horrors of past recriminations. The inclusion of certain other figures of saints in the chapel were also designed to show the relevance of the struggle for truth: The strong figure of St. Peter Martyr, a Dominican, not a Franciscan saint indicates the importance of being prepared to give one’s life in the struggle against heresy. The Archangel Michael was seen as both a military and spiritual protector. He was also linked to Constantine who in legend was supposed to have founded Mont-Saint Michel.
There are similarities in Piero’s two battle scenes with Uccello’s Battle of San Romano (Uffizi Gallery) in the solidity of the horses and the grouping of figures as well as comparisons with Roman battle reliefs found on ancient sarcophagi and Trajan’s column. The contemporary relevance of the battle is reinforced by the banners flying above the scene: a white cross upon a red field, the imperial eagle and the papal lion rampant of Paul I (Pietro Barbo). The lion rampant was also a symbol of Mathias Corvinus and the Hunyadi. These contrast with the pagan Saracen banner and the Islamic banner of a moon and star flying over the enemy camp. Beneath the banner a figure in green and bronze armour slays a pagan with a sword. He may represent Heraclius himself.
The battle is represented next to the fresco of the Annunciation. It is closest to the area of the battle fresco depicting Chosroes’ blasphemous misrepresentation of the Trinity. In the Golden Legend the whole Holy Trinity are described as involved in and receiving glory through the Annunciation. In the Battle scene against Chosroes II, the false ‘Trinity’ is defeated by the True Cross and the power of God working through it.
Exaltation of the True Cross
The final fresco of the series is positioned in the lunette opposite the first fresco. It balances the gift of the branch at death of Adam, which would become the wood of the Cross, on which salvation would be won. Here the relic of the Cross is raised, exalted and venerated on its triumphant return to Jerusalem. The scene itself is in an important position, raised high in the chapel of the church, closest to heaven. The Legend tells of a triumphant procession of Heraclius being turned back by an angel at the walled-up gate of Jerusalem. He had arrived in full military regalia and ceremonial cloak. Zacharius, Bishop of Jerusalem reprimanded the emperor for not imitating Christ more closely and coming in humility. When Heraclius removed his costly ceremonial robes, clothed himself in the garments of a poor man and approached barefoot and chastened, he found no physical or spiritual opposition and entered the city, returning the relic to its place in the church built on Calvary. The legend relates that the inhabitants then welcomed him ecstatically, as Christ was welcomed on Palm Sunday.
In most texts of the legend this counselling of humility is given by an angel rather than Bishop Zacharius. To have represented an angel would have made a significant parallel to the figure of the Archangel Michael in the fresco in the opposite lunette. However, it has been suggested that the inclusion of a bishop might have drawn a Franciscan parallel with St. Francis disrobing and arriving naked before the Bishop of Assisi. Francis too had renounced his social reputation and worldly goods. His imitation of Christ in humility, poverty and suffering was an example to his Brothers. The association of with the Archangel is not lost however, since Francis’ vision of the Cross through which he received the Stigmata was supposed to have occurred after a 40 day fast in dedication to the Archangel Michael, on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross.
This event, with the other parts of the legend, used to be read as part of the liturgy for the commemoration of its return, in the Breviary for 14th September. The emphasis on poverty and humility of course also related to the Franciscans, who valued the discalced nature of their Order, though of course the splendour of these frescoes and the financial backing of the Bacci family, rather call the simplicity, poverty and mendicant mission of the Arezzo Franciscans to question. However, in most other representations of the Legend to the True Cross, including Gaddi’s frescoes in Florence and Cenni’s in Voltera, Heraclius is not shown at all in the scene of the Cross returning to Jerusalem. The emphasis is there upon the jubilation and triumph of the Cross returning to sacred hands. Piero may have included the emperor to continue the sense of unity in the frescoes, linking the upper fresco in the lunette with the scene of Heraclius’ battle in the lower tier.
In other representations of this scene in manuscripts, the gate of Jerusalem is often a major compositional focus. Piero places this to the side and sets the scene outside the walls of the city, with Cross as the main focus, and a group of inhabitants of Jerusalem kneeling before it. This might intentionally refer to an ancient tradition of welcoming important visitors to a city by meeting them at a distance and accompanying them on their approach. Here the distinction is afforded to the relic, which is considered even more important than the Emperor and is represented as such. This protocol was known as ‘adventus’, which could also be another reason for including the Annunciation (‘Advent’) in the series. It is perhaps significant that the Cross in this fresco is positioned between two trees. These may intentionally represent the Old and New Covenants, the Hebrew and the Christian world, which the legend of the Holy Wood of the Cross linked, spanned and fulfilled. The weaker of the trees is positioned closest to Jerusalem, so may be intended to represent the Old Dispensation of Judaism, the stronger grows directly behind the bishop’s mitre, so probably is intended to represent the New Testament and the Christian Church of which the Franciscan Order was a key representative in Jerusalem as official protectors of the holy sites in the city.
Most of upper half the figure of the barefoot Heraclius is missing, but he stands in front of the Bishop, who wears a tall pointed mitre, accompanied by a robed man in a cushioned hat. The crowd echoes the depiction of St Helena and her retinue kneeling in the fresco of the Proving of the True Cross, which is depicted directly below this scene. Witnessing this on the left are three of Piero’s mysterious onlookers in the tall hats of Constantinople, also worn by the man in white behind the kneeling figures. They are probably intended to represent Jewish clerics as they do not kneel, but the figure in the white hat seems about to doff it in acknowledgement of the holiness of the returning relic before him. Perhaps Piero is suggesting that this revelation of the Cross is his moment of conversion. Within the composition the trio of onlookers seem like the on-looking angels in the Baptism and the three large figures in the Flagellation, the witnesses to Chosroes’ execution and several other triplets of figures in Piero’s other works. Balancing the small figures of Seth and the angel represented in the distance in The Death of Adam, a small robed figure with a white beard approaches from the distance in the shadow of the city walls
RESURRECTION OF CHRIST Pinacoteca Civica, Sansepolcro. (formerly the Palazzo dei Priori or Palazzo Comunale. c1463-5. 225 x 200 cm.
This was painted on a wall in the Palazzo Communale (Town Hall) of Borgo San Sepolcro; it was also called ‘Palazzo dei Priori’ or ‘Palazzo del Conservatori’ and the ‘Residenza’. This is now the Municipal Art Gallery. After the Battle of Anghiari in 1440 Pope Eugenius had sold Borgo San Sepolcro to Florence, who set up a Florentine governor, but on 1st Feb. 1459 the Palazzo was officially returned to the citizens of the town and was regarded as a symbol of the renewal of their civic autonomy. Not long after this, the authorities decided to restore the building as a symbol of their re-gained relative independence. The commission for the fresco of the Resurrection was part of this, as the theme was spiritually so relevant to the town. This was a prestigious commission for any artist to receive, especially for his own home-town, almost on par with the Lorenzetti’s larger frescoes of Good and Bad Government in Siena Town Hall, which like Piero’s Resurrection represented the local landscape behind the scene.
Most civic buildings in Italian cities and large towns would have contained murals depicting significant local historic events like military victories, or allegories of government. It was rare, if not unknown to depict a specifically religious theme. The link of the name of the town with its relic of the Holy Sepulchre probably explains why such a religious subject was chosen even though this was for a secular building. The emphasis on the tomb in the painting, and the stone in the immediate right foreground relates to the foundation of the town with its relic brought from the tomb of Christ. The theme of Christ’s Resurrection is thought to have been represented on the town’s insignia, seal and civic law documents from about 1000. Following the tradition that had lasted for about 450 years of having Christ’s Resurrection as its official emblem, the town later adopted Piero’s image of the Resurrection as its modified emblem and depicted it on the official town seal, with the motto: ‘SUB UMBRA ALARUM TUARUM PROTEGE NOS’. It was seen as a symbol of divine influence on their political leadership and divine protection of the town. With Piero’s Nativity panel, I find this fresco perhaps the most spiritually meaningful of all Piero’s paintings. That this should be the case with a picture which was largely designed for a secular setting. and had political intentions, shows the depth of content within Piero’s work.
No documentation has been found to confirm the date of its commissioning. Taking into consideration the dating of events in the history of the building and the style of the work, it is thought that Piero most probably worked on this mural sometime after his visit to Rome (1458-9), probably before the Montefeltro Altarpiece (begun 1469). The first clear record of the fresco is from 1474, though the mural had probably been in place several years before that. At the time of painting the Residenza was divided into two long chambers, with communicating doors between. The first was an entrance hall, the second was used as the meeting room for the town council. Piero’s mural was set high up in the entrance-hall wall that separated the two chambers, directly opposite the main entrance so it would be seen prominently by all entering the building.
This seven foot high fresco would be immediately confront all who entered by the main entrance door, as it was immediately before them. It was framed by a painted architectural surround in the form of a Corinthian portico with fluted columns. Unfortunately within about a decade of its completion a decision was made to partition and vault the room and the adjacent room, to support the weight of the new vaults in the room above. (This probably occurred sometime between 1470 & 1480). The use of the rooms in the Palazzo was being altered, with the boardroom being transferred from one floor to the other. It was recorded in the late 15th or early 16th Century document that the actual wall on which the Resurrection was painted was moved about this time, but this has been questioned by several modern historians; perhaps the wall was just lowered and restored, as a 1480 manuscript suggested. The alterations meant that the pilasters of its painted frame lost their architectural, illusionistic effect as the top halves are cut off to fit within the spandrels of the arch within which the painting was situated. Enough of the architectural frame remains to be able to imagine its original effect. (Piero’s Mary Magdalene and Leonardo’s Last Supper suffered similarly from architectural changes made around them.) The light on the fluted columns of the frame intentionally corresponds to the light from the windows of the room. There is also another imaginary light (as in the Flagellation and the Annunciation in the Polyptych of St. Anthony) which Piero used to light the scene from higher on the left, creating the shadows of the soldier on the tomb and the sword of the soldier. In the 17th Century an altar was placed in front of the mural, but the original idea does not appear to have been that it should have a liturgical function in the civic hall after the improvement of the building. Sadly in 1770 the fresco was covered-over with whitewash, contributing to its deterioration. The fresco was also damaged by a chimney behind the wall, which over-dried and altered the chemical composition of the binding agents of the plaster and tempera. This particularly affected the painted armour of the soldiers. Some of the colours, contrasting tones and effects of luminosity have altered over time, yet enough details remain to show Piero’s technique. He painted the armour with the precision of detail that he applied to his oil and tempera paintings on panel.
In this work Piero experimented with the use of two different angles of perspective in one painting. The sarcophagus is represented from below with the same perspective as the architectural frame, as though we are observing the perspective from the true angle at which we view the mural, looking up at the underside of the tomb’s lintel. The vanishing point is below the plinth with its damaged inscription. However the risen figure of Christ is emphasised as no longer belonging wholly to this world, and is painted from a different point of vision, as though we are raised from the ground and seeing his body directly straight ahead. These two different points of perspective may be attempting to emphasise the differences between the physical and spiritual world. There may actually be a third angle of perspective in the work: the ground on which the soldiers rest appears to have a low point of perspective, receding behind the sarcophagus.
The figure of Christ is unusual, particularly his features. His musculature is strong and idealised as befits the perfect example of a man, but his visage is not particularly attractive, though it confronts us with a haunting expression. It has been suggested that this appearance relates to the Italian concept of toughness: ‘brutto-bello’ / ‘beautiful ugliness’. More specifically his haunting stare, with his eyes appearing sunken within his skull, might suggest that this man has travelled through, and experienced, the haunting realm of the dead. It could also relate to the description of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah: “He had no form or majesty that we should look on him; nothing in his appearance that we should desire him” [Isa, 53:2]. Christ’s face is hypnotic; it is hard to discern his emotion, but like his stance he appears magisterial. His left hand seems equally magisterial as he lifts the hem of his robe. His right arm is sturdy and appears trustworthy as it confidently holds the Resurrection pennant in triumph;. The whole face is strongly lit from above, forming strong shadows around the eyes and long, strong nose. The lips are thick, asymmetrical and prominent. He stares out with dark, almost highlight-less eyes, a rather impassive, serious expression, and no smile. His dark beard is straggly and double-pointed, a feature used regularly by Piero as a sign of the character being Middle-Eastern, though Jesus appears to have been given blonde, western hair. He gazes out at us with dark eye sockets and prominent eyes of one who has come through the darkness of death after experiencing torture and sleeplessness. This expression is absorbing, almost hypnotic in its confrontation of the viewer.
In his right hand Christ holds the ‘labarum’, a standard denoting victory. Its red cross indicates that the victory over death has been won through the sacrifice of the Cross and Resurrection. His left hand holds up his pink, flesh-coloured mantle. The colour is probably symbolic of the belief that this resurrection was physically ‘in the flesh’.
Jesus appears to be watching and ready to judge, as well as offering new life. This judgemental focus is a suitable depiction for a civic building where leadership and decisions are open to corruption. Like the murals of Good and Bad Government in the Town Hall in Siena, this painting in the Council-Hall was designed to encourage the righteous organisation of civic life, to overcome dishonesty, abuses of power, and the effect of Original Sin. Civil government was supposed to be a continuation of the divine ordering of heaven. This was a reminder of their moral, civic and religious duties to councillors, judges, advocates, traders, the innocent and guilty who were confronted by the image as they entered the building daily. Its effect, high up, looking down on the entrance room, the effect was considered so powerful that about 50 years later a small altar was installed in front of the painting. (Whether it actually did anything to purify the morals of Italian politics is probably questionable!)
The representation of the risen Christ is not entirely different from resurrection iconography in mediaeval art since the late 10th Century: Jesus is stepping from the tomb, with sleeping soldiers nearby. The tomb is represented not as the rock-cut cave suggested in scripture, but as a stone sarcophagus. It may be coincidental that it resembles the altar by Alberti in the temple of the Holy Sepulchre in the Rucellai Chapel, Florence, the tomb in Andrea del Castagno’s Resurrection in the Cenacolo di San Apollonia, Florence, and the Resurrection in Siena Cathedral, which has been attributed to Francesco da Siena (c1458-65) but there may be some common source. Jesus in rising from the tomb was often depicted with one leg over the ledge of the sarcophagus and one still in the grave. Sometimes, especially in contemporary Northern European Resurrection paintings he seems to have a rather delicate step as though Jesus has no weight, even floating. Piero used a different pose, with Jesus physically stepping up from the sarcophagus, with his foot on the edge. This is the pose in the Sienese painting (c1340-50) attributed to Nicola di Segna, in the Resurrection panel of the Polyptych of St. Clare in the Cathedral of Borgo San Sepolcro. It now hangs in the same museum as Piero’s mural of the Resurrection and shows Christ in a very similar stance to that of Piero, which was obviously based upon it. In the Sienese painting Jesus is surrounded by angels. He carries no labarum, but his leg is raised onto the ledge of the tomb and he holds his robe in the same way as Roman statues were shown holding their toga as a sign of control.
Compositionally in Piero’s painting the line of the lifted fold in the toga echoes the line of the soldier’s lance, directing our eyes towards the living tree beyond. This adds to the sense of movement and a life-force to the otherwise static poses. The landscape background is fairly shadowed or silhouetted, as though the sun is just rising, behind Christ. Yet the highlights on his body and the soldiers and the shadows cast by them imply that a light from the viewer’s upper left is shining onto them. This direction of light is consistent with the light on the columns framing the fresco and corresponds to the windows of the room in which the fresco is painted. While strongly influenced by the iconography of the Sienese Resurrection and other resurrection symbolism, Piero’s representation seems to have greater solidity, majesty and confidence than most resurrection paintings up to this date. The raised foot is strong, as if able to take the whole weight of his body, emphasising that this is bodily resurrection, not a vision. It is carefully observed as a study in perspective, like the head in his treatise illustration. Jesus is physical, not an idealised or particularly beautiful figure, though he is well-proportioned and muscled, as one would expect from a Platonic figure. He appears physically strong enough to achieve salvation. His face appears careworn and serious, perhaps severe, with deep-set eyes, as though he has experienced the place of the dead. He confronts us straight-on as though asking for or even commanding our allegiance, as his pose appears commanding as well as victorious. Only a few letters of the inscription on the tomb remain, which may spell: HVMAN (s)ORTE or ‘HVMAN... (m)ORTE’. Its original meaning is debated.
The sleeping soldiers are realistically painted, wearing pseudo-Roman armour’ rather like to processional armour used in Renaissance tableaux or official parades in Constantinople. Their armour is fictional, perhaps borrowed from Byzantine designs resembling the fantasy antique armour invented by Renaissance designers, including Leonardo. The knee-plate of one soldier, directly below Christ’s figure has been likened to a scorpion fish. But it is more likely to be intended to resemble the wings of a demon, implying that Christ is treading the devil and death beneath his feet. Piero was obviously trying to seem historically correct, as was Mantegna in the armour of his soldiers.
The soldiers’ slumber contrasts with the vitality of the figure of Christ. Their bodies take various angles, which compositionally form the base of an equilateral triangle with the head of Christ at its apex. Their varied faces, complexions and physiques suggest that they may represent different types (perhaps the Melancholic, Sanguine, Phlegmatic and Choleric) while Christ represents the perfect man with all humours in balance. A tradition (without evidence) suggests that Piero painted himself in the position of the soldier whose head leans back and is viewed in perspective. We cannot be sure of this, though a figure with his head in a similar position, below Mary’s mantle in the Misericordia Altarpiece and a figure in the Legend of the True Cross appear to have similar physiognomy. The angle of his head forms a counterpoint with the angle of Christ’s knee and the spear of the soldier, which leads the eye up to the living trees on the right. This spear appears to rest lazily, as opposed to the vertical pole of the banner of resurrection in the hand of Christ, which shows the Lord’s alertness. The figures of the soldiers create a rhythmic flow below the static and stable upright figure of Christ. Only the two central soldiers are obviously asleep, it may be that the two others are intended to be witnesses. One may be shielding his face from the vision or refusing to accept it, one may be looking up in astonishment. The line through his eye and the helmet of the soldier with the red shield creates the right edge of the equilateral triangle with Christ at its pinnacle.
Unusually for a painting of this time, the soldiers are larger than Jesus, because they are in front of him in the perspective of the scene. Showing four soldiers is fairly traditional in Gothic and early Renaissance representations of the scene, perhaps to balance the four Marys who witnessed the empty tomb. Here the guards do not tumble away at the earthquake, or shrink back in amazement. Instead one covers his eyes and the others appear oblivious or blind to the momentous event happening beside them. Christ’s stare, by contrast, is all-seeing, perhaps to encourage justice and honesty in the civic setting.
The whole effect of the painting is far quieter and more awe-inspiring than most contemporary or later pictures of Christ’s resurrection. As in the colours of the frescoes the Legend of the True Cross, the colours of the soldier’s uniforms create a rhythm across the base of the composition. The angle of the ‘V-shape’ between the red legs and green leg and spear of the front soldiers continues in line with the three green trees receding on the right. The head the soldier with the green helmet decorated with scrollwork is very similar to soldier the Battle of Heraclius riding the bolting horse, with a dagger at his throat, just below the Cross.
This is not just a picture about the Salvation of the human race, or a locally relevant religious theme. The scene resembles the local landscape of Tuscany but there seems to be a cosmic element to the scene. Though the fresco is damaged, the landscape appears to be beginning to be suffused with light as the dawn breaks beyond the hills and the trees and is reflected in the clouds. Piero appears to have made a slight mistake in his optical observation, showing the shadow caused by the rising sun beneath the clouds, rather than above them with the highlight below. Christ himself may be being identified with the rising sun. If the hill behind him is meant to be the peak of the Trabaria pass, he is arising from the East.
The trees to the left of the Risen Christ, behind the leg that is still in the tomb, are thick, dry and leafless, arising from almost barren ground. Those on the right, beyond his raised leg, are lean, green and in flower, with more bushes and smaller trees around them, suggesting new life or Christ’s promise of renewed life to us. This duality may suggest not just the resurrection of the Saviour, but also the relative barrenness or death of those who reject the offer of Salvation, by contrast to the abundance of life offered to those who accept what Christ achieved. Piero used a similar theme of a dead tree in the Arezzo mural of the Death of Adam. The clouds are gentle, suggesting that Christ brings a spring of refreshment to nourish the earth, not storm-clouds or the darkness that covered the earth at Christ’s death. While this reading of the meaning of the landscape seems spiritually relevant and close to the intellectual symbolism employed by Piero and theologians and commentators of his time, it also has to be admitted that not all critics agree with this interpretation. Some believe that Piero may have painted leaves on the barren trees after the fresco was completed, in oil paint, in the same way as he touched up some of his other works. Over time, especially after the mural was whitewashed, the oil leaves could have become detached from the fresco. I personally prefer to believe the earlier interpretation, as both Giovanni Bellini and later Caravaggio used a similar natural metaphor for the resurrection, contrasting green vegetation with barren landscape in Bellini’s Berlin Resurrection and Caravaggio’s Vatican ‘Deposition’.
The interpretation of the trees on the right as representing the awakening of spring is convincing. Yet their foliage resembles evergreen cypresses, which might imply that, not being deciduous, they could be intended as symbols of the permanence of eternal life. In the Hebrew Bible cypresses are used as symbols of the eternal strength of God’s care [Hos.14:5-7]. It may seem strange that the three trees on the right are more spindly than the deciduous trees on the left. But the thin trunks of the trees could represent the youth and vigour of the Church that emerged from Christ’s resurrection, ascension and Pentecost, while the old dispensation of the law and prophets, though apparently strong, was spiritually deadening, as St. Paul emphasised in the Epistle to the Romans. Though the surrounding landscape is not topographically exact, it certainly resembles that near Borgo San Sepolcro, with its rounded hills. Behind the dormant or dead trees is a steep mound that might be intended to represent Calvary, as well as the local hills, and behind the living trees is a tower that closely resembles the Malatesta Tower. Sadly the green paint used in the landscape has oxidised over the centuries, leaving them far browner than their original hue.
The positioning or the trees appears unusual. Two-dimensionally the varied spaces between each of them, including the figure of Christ, may be arranged according to mathematical harmony and the mathematics of perspective. They all reflect the upright line of labarum held by Christ yet their recession towards the sides of the mural make the landscape behind Christ appear not to converge but diverge in perspective as the trees reach out towards the edges of the composition. The labarum flying the pennant with a resurrection Cross and the very evident wound on Christ’s body emphasise that his sacrifice has achieve salvation and protection. To stand on the right side of a figure of importance was considered the position of most honour. Yet in this fresco the bare trees occupy that position. The line of three verdant, vigorous, blooming but more immature trees is represented on the left, which was a slightly less prestigious position, (unless they are intentionally on Jesus’ right as the view sees them). The two bare trees could represent ‘the Law and the Prophets’ while the less mature but living and flowering trees represent the hopeful beginnings of the Christian Church. The dead or leafless trees in a relatively barren landscape, lead towards the taller hill, perhaps the Place of the Skull. Christ’s Crucifixion fulfilling the requirements of the dead Law and Prophets was a strong element of St. Paul’s teaching, especially in the Epistle to the Romans. The tree closest to the hill has spiky branches, almost like large thorns, which has been interpreted occasionally to relate to Christ’s Crown of Thorns. By contrast the younger living trees lead into a green valley of living plants, growing around a local palace. The spiritual life encouraged by the town of Borgo San Sepolcro seems alive by comparison with the Old Law.
The labarum with its pennant of as red cross on a white background indicating the victory in Christ’s Resurrection, could also be related to the landscape. The probable symbolism of the landscape background takes the argument further: Christ’s resurrection was both a victory over the dead word caused by the Law and the Prophets, passing judgement upon them. Yet it also promised a new life through resurrection to the emerging church , and in this secular setting to the righteous in society. The diagonals of the composition radiate out emphasising the verticality of Christ’s movement as he rises from the tomb. The recession of the trees may also reflect the sending out into the world of the message of resurrection and salvation.
Symbolically the Risen Christ may be intended to be seen as the protector of the city and state, whether sleeping or rising. The stone on which the soldier on the right rests is most probably be intended to be represent the relic of the stone from the Holy Sepulchre, brought to the area by Arcano and Egidio, upon which the town of Borgo San Sepolcro was reputedly founded. Its prominent position nearest the viewer, emphasises the political and religious priorities of the town and its civic counsellors should remain based on the principles and the integrity by which the community was founded and which Christ taught and would eventually judge.
ST. JEROME IN PENITENCE Gemaldegalerie, Staatliche Museen, Berlin. 1450 (signed & dated) 51 x 38 cm.
This small panel is Piero’s first dated work: ‘PETRI DE BVRGO OPUS MCCCL’ is written on the painted label on the tree trunk in the lower left hand corner. Some critics believe that the style is closer to the artist’s work of c1440, so question the authenticity of the dating, yet what remains of the original painting is almost entirely underpainting, so it is almost impossible to date it stylistically. The panel had been largely over-painted until restored between 1968 and 1972, when little was found to be left of its original colour and surface except the underpainting. This nevertheless shows the care and sensitivity in Piero’s design and preparation. The panel may have be one of the paintings recorded as remaining with Piero’s family after his death. If so, it may have been left unfinished or more likely, was an image of which the artist was fond or dissatisfied. It is painted on a chestnut panel, which curved to be slightly convex. This resemblance to the form of an icon is thought by some to be intentional, but the distortion is more likely to be accidental, which may be why it never sold.
The scene is set in a landscape very similar to the upper Tiber valley near Sansepolcro. The landscape background may be linked to the young Piero having seen the work of Rogier van der Weyden in Ferrara. It is not too far a step from this landscape to the background of the National Gallery Baptism of Christ. There are also similarities to landscapes in the work of Jacopo Bellini. Piero’s interest in optics may already be apparent in the way that he portrayed reflections in the river, particularly the tree stump to the left of the panel, the height of which is exactly reflected in the water. It is not clear whether the three felled trees are intentionally symbolic.
The usual iconography for St. Jerome represented him either in his cardinal’s hat, as a scholar in a library, or as a penitent hermit in the desert, beating his breast with a stone. Renaissance Humanist collectors tended to prefer the representations of him as a scholar. Unusually Piero combines the two forms of imagery, showing Jerome in a desert-setting similar to the local Tiber valley, but with his books in an alcove cut into the rocks. He carries a rosary in his left hand which has lost the detail of its fingers after the extensive restoration. In his right hand is a stone to beat himself in penitence. He looks up at a crucifix set on a sawn tree trunk, as in Piero’s other painting of Jerome in Venice.
As we know little of the painting’s origins it is very hard to analyse Piero’s intent. It is a simple image, probably intended for contemplation, as the penitential and scholarly imagery implies. Its small size suggests that it would be designed for private domestic use, rather than for contemplation at a distance. It’s vertical format suggests that it was not intended to be part of a predella to an altarpiece, though this could be possible.
The image is quiet and thoughtful, very similar to the contemplative art of Bellini, though there is no evidence that Piero know his work. The position of Jerome’s arms seem to imply that he is opening himself up before God and allowing his Lord to know him thoroughly, as in Psalm 139. His semi-nakedness carries the same suggestion. His few books represent his knowledge and scholarship, but these have been laid aside as he comes before the crucifix. It resembles St. Paul’s insistence that he counted his scholarship and human qualifications as nothing, and he “determined to know nothing but Christ crucified”.
ST. JEROME AND A WORSHIPPER Galleria del Accademia, Venice. Early 1450s ? 49 – 42cm.
Like the earlier St. Jerome in Berlin, this is a small devotional panel, but its precise intention is similarly unsure. It was perhaps designed as portable altarpiece. It was painted primarily in tempera, though there is some use of oil in the green of the landscape, which may have been retouched later. It too is signed on a painted parchment attached to the trunk of the tree holding the Crucifix, but this inscription does not contain a date. The inscription below the devotee, presumably identifying him, is HIER. AMADI AUG. E and the words on the base of the trunk supporting the Cross identify the painter as: PETRI DI BU[R]GO S[AN]C[T]I SEPULCRI OPUS (‘Peter [Piero] of Burgo San Sepolcro’). Some believe these inscriptions to be later additions.
Like so many of Piero’s paintings, the date is debated. Some believe that its style is closer to the dates of the Flagellation or Baptism, perhaps 1465-6. Others believe that it was earlier, particularly if Piero was in Venice shortly or after 1450 after his work at Ferrara or from his earlier time in Urbino c1445. Some relate the background to the landscape backgrounds of Domenico Veneziano. Yet other historians date the work later to c.1470-75. So, in the absence of consensus of opinion on it, it could be wiser to consider what the devotional work is saying and encouraging, rather than trying to identify its details too precisely.
A few commentators question whether the saint is Jerome as he is not accompanied by any of the normal attributes of Jerome, except his books. There is no lion, scorpions or other beasts or desert setting, as described in the Golden Legend; no cardinal’s robes or hat, study or library. The cave behind him and his books, could be attributes of several hermits, though the Golden Legend describes Jerome as constantly reading or writing. However this lack of obvious common symbolism is not unusual in Piero’s depiction of saints. The depiction of Jerome as a hermit is more true to the saint than his representation as a cardinal, as that attribute was only given to him long after his death in 420 C.E. He had been secretary to Pope Damascus I and was considered alongside Augustine as one of the great ‘doctors’ or teachers of the Church. If it is Jerome, as seems reasonable, the man might be praying before him in recognition that Jerome’s lifestyle, teaching, focus on prayer and scholarship, as a guide to Christ and example for his own life and that of the Christian community. Jerome may be directing the praying man by his own example, as he wrote in the introduction to his Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Isaiah: ‘I fulfil my duty, obeying Christ’s command to ‘search the scriptures’ [Jn5:39]... ‘If, as St. Paul says, Christ is the power and wisdom of God [1Cor.1:24], then anyone who does not know the scriptures does not know God’s power or his wisdom. To be ignorant of the scriptures is to be ignorant of Christ.” ... This Christological focus of Jerome’s life and scholarship is emphasised by the presence of the crucifix.
Jerome sits holding an open book beneath a crucifix. Presumably the books are the scriptures, which he translated, and commentaries. He is shown turning towards the donor or patron, gesturing with his right hand as though he is explaining something or encouraging him to focus on the Bible’s its teaching or example. Beside him on his simple bench are two other elegantly bound books, one open. These may represent the Law and the Prophets, as Jerome wrote that in reading their testimony he “contemplated Christ alone.” The emphasis on books in the painting may be an indication that the praying man, like all true disciples, is being encouraged to study scripture to strengthen his faith in Christ and follow the knowledge that he would obtain through scholarship. It seems an appropriate message for the intellectual circles of Renaissance patrons for whom Piero worked, as it was for Piero himself.
Jerome’s humble dress demonstrates that he had given up possessions and worldly ambition, for the sake of following Christ and eventually reaching the heavenly Jerusalem. The obvious wealth of the patron’s clothes and the background setting of the Renaissance city with its towers and palaces suggest all that the praying man should be willing to discount in focusing on faith. Jerome became a popular theme for private works of art in the second half of the 15th Century, particularly in wealthy merchant areas like Venice and its surroundings, which may be how this small devotional panel found its way to Venice. Many wealthy laymen took Jerome’s teachings and model as an example. Some abandoned the noble life for prayer and study, others used his example as a focus of their own penitence. Jerome’s abandonment of his fascination with pagan literature and his love of Greek and Roman authors was also regarded a warning to those caught up in the Renaissance revival of classical scholarship, as Piero and many of his patrons were. Jerome had taught that the ‘foolishness’ of Plato and his followers and the ‘reasoning’ of Aristotle could not bring one to salvation, whereas charitable acts like the exultation of the illiterate and support of the poor demonstrate our adherence to Christ’s way. Christ needed to be the main focus of their devotion, and they had to find him within their learning. ‘Human learning’, which ‘puffs one up’, was contrasted by Jerome to ‘celestial wisdom’, which ‘delights, opens mysteries, teaches the thing s of heaven, fills the spirit with faith and raises up the lowly to the region of heaven.’ This attitude seems to be what the picture aims to encourage in the devotional viewer.
The identity of the wealthy layman has been debated. He wears either a stole or a hood over his far shoulder, which could help to identify him, if it relates to a distinction which he acquired. The inscription appears to identify him as ‘Hieronymus’ / Gerolamo Amadi, son of Agostino Amadi, a wealthy Venetian patrician.
Tthe inscription seems to have been added by another hand than that of Piero; it is very different from his signature inscription on the work. Whether it was added by Amadi or after his death is uncertain. He also resembles one of the figures sheltering beneath the robe of the Madonna della Misericordia, but this similarity may be coincidental. Other historians potentially identify him as Gerolamo Piscina or Girolamo di Carlo Malatesta, son-in-law of Federico de Montefeltro. If the panel was painted by Piero in or for Venice, it is uncertain why Borgo San Sepolcro should have been painted in the distant landscape, if the background does represent that town. Perhaps the patron was a devotee of the relic of the Holy Sepulchre, or had personal connections with the town. Some describe the architecture as being more northern, towards the area of Venice. The artist’s signature identifies him closely with the Borgo San Sepolcro. The background landscape certainly appears to include the town of Borgo al Santo Sepulchro, showing certain clear features, particularly the Rocca Malatestiana beyond its walls. It shares similarities with the background of the Berlin St. Jerome and the Baptism of Christ.
Behind the layman, a flourishing tree rises up, as though reflecting the growth of faith. Sampling of the paint has shown that the green of the landscape has deteriorated over time to brown. The tree and the verdant landscape may be an intentional reference to the Tree of Life or the ‘Lignum Christi’. Beside Jerome the crucifix is attached to a trunk that has been sawn through. This might seem to symbolise that Christ arose out of the old dispensation, which his death fulfilled, but had now been replaced by the new covenant, sealed by his death, and which brings new flourishing life to the Christian worshipper. The angle of the crucifix seems to point to this, as the arm of the Cross reflects the angle of the branch of the tree above the patron’s head and the angle of the donor’s praying hands. The angle of Jerome’s bent leg also points our view upward to the man’s praying hands and his heart, while the angle of Jerome’s right arm and the rock of the cave behind his shoulder, direct the eye to Christ on the Cross. The intense look of Jerome towards the man focuses concentration on a directional line connecting the three figures, emphasising the relationship between the praying man, Jerome and Christ. The crucifix is also facing the town, suggesting that Christ is appealing to and relating his message of Salvation to the people of the town as well as the individual devotees depicted. .
The cut tree may have several scriptural references. “Let us cut down the tree while the sap is in it. Let us destroy him out of the land of the living, that his name will be forgotten” [Jer.11:19] was regarded as prophetic of the plot to kill Christ. The flourishing tree also reminds one of many scriptural passages. Psalm I speaks of those with faith as a flourishing tree planted by water (the lake is prominent in the background of the painting). Christ is described in Zechariah and Isaiah and several prophets as the fruitful branch of the Lord [Isa.4:2; Jer.23:5; Zech.3:8-9; 6:12]. Zech.6:12 was also interpreted in the light of Jn.2:18-22 as a reference to Christ’s resurrection from death and the rebuilding of faith and the promise of new life, all of which have relevance to the believer.
SIGISMONDO PANDOLFO MALATESTA KNELLING BEFORE ST. SIGISMONDO
Tempio Maletestiano ‘Chapel of the Relics’, San Francisco, Rimini: Signed and dated 1451.
This is Piero’s earliest surviving fresco and is signed and inscribed with two dates. The first is on the lower band at the left: PIERO DEBURGO MCCCCLI, which is the date of the work. The other date inscribed around the roundel is MCCCCLVI, but this 1446 date relates to the building of Sigismondo’s castle, which the roundel depicts. The work is painted in ‘true fresco’ (on wet plaster), though it seems that Piero added details after it was complete in oil paint. These oil details have not survived over time as well as the fresco beneath, but traces remain. It was commissioned by Sigismondo for the Church of San Francesco, the traditional burial place of the Malatesta family for generations. Sigismondo had initiated the rebuilding of the Gothic church in a more classical style to suit his humanist aspirations and make the family church more contemporary and intellectual in fashion. It was re-consecrated in 1452. Sigismondo claimed that he was motivated by the wish to build a thank-offering for his successful involvement in the 1447 war between Florence allied with Venice, against the Papal States allied with Milan and Naples. The inscription on the façade of the newly classicised church hailed him as ‘bringer of victory won through prayer.” This fresco, showing him at prayer, was intended to be near the site of his tomb, in the first of three new chapels being built into the South side of the building, and dedicated to his namesake, St. Sigismund. Another chapel was the burial place of his mistress Isotta. This fresco was above the entrance door of the chapel and Sigismondo is positioned as though facing both the saint in the fresco and the sculpture of the saint above the altar in the chapel. In 1943 the fresco was detached for conservation reasons, transferred to canvas and cleaned
Unusually, the young prince is placed centrally in the composition, with his head in at the vanishing point of the perspective, a position which would usually be reserved for Christ, Mary or a saint. He is also represented the same size as his patron saint. This somewhat belies the humility of the prince’s pose. He wears the fashionable half-length coat or ‘giornea’ and short boots. Despite his military prowess, Sigismondo had himself represented as a devout noble. Behind him two elegant muscular hunting hounds lay ‘couchant’ and alert, they may be symbolic of his fidelity and devotion as well as his domesticity, wealth and love of hunting after a life of military victory. One white, one dark, they face in two directions, as guardians of their master, and perhaps implying that he is a defender of the faith. In Christian iconography such dogs can represent both fidelity and faith, so here they can carry both the idea of the prince’s religious faith and his loyalty. The white dog looks forward, devotionally; its partner looks out, to the world beyond, perhaps intending to suggest their master’s religious and political outlook, his devotion and dominion as well as his watchfulness. As greyhounds were identified as kingly dogs, these probably also reflect their master’s noble aspirations. In Dante’s Divine Comedy a political saviour of Italy is given the title of ‘The Greyhound’ /‘Veltro’, and the symbol of the dogs here may have a similar source, origin and intention.
Around Sigismondo, the painted classical architecture reflects the Malatesta prince’s taste, regarding himself as a fashionable innovator, reintroducing classical architecture and scholarship, and aiming to restore his city’s gothic church to fashionable Renaissance/classical forms. The roundel provides a window onto the city of Rimini, dominated by Sigismondo’s citadel, the Castellum Sismundum, redesigned reputedly by Ghiberti from 1437. It is identified by the inscription and the date of 1446 indicates when the castle was ready for occupation. The same view was sculpted on the reverse of Sigismondo’s portrait medals. The Latinising of Sigismondo’s name to ‘Sismundum’ in the inscription of both the fresco and the medals shows another aspect of his aspirations; it means ‘If you will... the world!” or alternatively “as it were the world”... suggesting that his castle and his rule reflected God’s perfect ordering of the cosmos. This also relates to Sigismondo’s second name ‘Pandolfo’, which can mean ‘the cosmic hero’. The symbolism of a circle for the frame in which the castle is represented, could itself suggest that it is the perfect Renaissance city, ruled by one whose lordship reflected God’s kingdom. Unfortunately this was hardly true of Sigismondo’s rather bullish and arrogant character and rule.
The interior where Sigismono kneels is decorated for celebration; hung with tapestries, a long, bunched garland and decorated with roses and cornucopia. The painted border is decorated with symbols of the Malatesta: roses and cornucopia, in imitation of its marble base. We are looking into a fictional corridor or audience room, where the prince kneels before his patronal saint. Its blue background seems to represent a tapestry, elaborately decorated with green foliage and red flowers which were originally painted in dry pigment. Much of this has since been lost as the fresco is in a poor state of conservation. It must have originally been rich with decoration, both in the background and the damask patterns of the clothes, reflecting the splendour of Sigismondo’s palace. This decoration was appropriate for the colours and forms of the heraldry in the chapel.
Unusually St. Sigismond is relegated to the side, painted in the robes of a patriarch which may be similar to some Piero witnessed at the Council of Florence and included in the Legend of the True Cross. The real saint was an Hungarian Vandal, the first Christian Burgundian king. He was only king for a year and was knighted and crowned as Holy Roman Emperor by Pope Eugenius IV in 1433. His coronation as Emperor is represented in a bronze relief on the doors of St. Peter’s, Rome. There he is represented kneeling before the Pope in a similar pose to that adopted by Sigismondo in Piero’s fresco, though it is unlikely that Piero would have known of this. Piero could have known several representations of Sigismund; Pisanello painted a portrait on vellum, but he was usually represented as an armoured knight. In Pisanello’s portrait he wears a fur hat, similar in form to that in Piero’s fresco, but much higher. It appears that Piero simplified and lowered height of the hat during the painting process. However, Sigismondo died at a relatively young. The features in Piero’s painting are very similar to Pisanello’s portrait, but Piero represented the saint as much older than he ever was. Piero also gave him a forked beard, like the eastern beards he often represented to show the foreign origins of figures, whereas Sigismund’s beard in portraits was simply long. Regarded as a martyr, St. Sigismund’s character does not at first appear to have been particularly different from the scheming Sigismondo Malatesta, so the prince may have been appropriately matched and named. Sigismund had ordered one of his sons to be strangled for rebuking his stepmother, but sought to atone for this by generous patronage of the church and support of the poor. He built the Abbey of Agaunum, where he later hid, disguised as a monk, after being defeated in battle. He was discovered and executed by his enemies. His feast day was May 1st.
Sigismondo apparently had met his namesake when he was just 15 and the Emperor had visited Rimini on his return from his coronation, and the Emperor had knighted Sigismondo on 3rd. Sept. 1433. This event may be what Piero’s fresco is referring to , though none of the normal trappings of investiture are represented and Sigismondo is portrayed as he was at the time of the fresco, not as a youth. Sigismondo used his name and his association with the Hungarian King and Emperor politically, when promoting himself over the rulers of other city states. His father had possibly originally named him deliberately to emphasise the Malatesta’s links with the powerful Balkan states, with whose leaders the Malatesta’s made military alliances. The name, derived from mediaeval German ‘sigis’ and ‘munt’ meant ‘Victory’ and ‘Protection’ or ‘Victorious Protection’. Sigismondo had this translated into Latin for use as his motto.
This fresco can only just be called a ‘religious work’; the only sign of spirituality are Sigismondo’s praying hands. It is more a propagandist celebration of the young man, designed to go over his tomb to announce his social position. At the time of the fresco, and Piero’s almost contemporary portrait of the prince (Louvre, Paris), Sigismondo was rising in authority. He had recently been victorious in a military battle at Piombino (though he switched allegiances to obtain it). He saw himself on a politically upward trajectory. This fresco was part of the deliberate development of an architectural and artistic campaign to magnify the church where his family was buried. The Architect Alberti was involved in the project of turning the mediaeval gothic church into a classical temple, the ‘Tempio Malatestiano’, faced in marble, some of which was looted from other churches. This classicism, however, earned Sigismondo a reputation for being more pagan than pious in his tastes. He had aspirations to be a keen scholar as well as being a ruthless soldier. Sigismondo’s character and activities later antagonised the papacy and brought about the decline of the Malatesta family. Both Pius II and Paul II condemned and excommunicated him. Sigismondo reputedly travelled to Rome in late 1468 with an intention of trying to murder the Pope, but died after his return to Rimini late in the year.
The fresco is quite a contrast to Piero’s Baptism of Christ. The Baptism was designed for a secular setting, yet it radiates spiritual truth and religious significance. Sigismondo’s fresco was designed for a religious setting but displays secular arrogance and worldly ambition. It is very easy for commissions for churches to betray a very different spirit from the spiritual intention that should be in a work for a religious building. Too many Mediaeval, Renaissance, Baroque, Victorian and Contemporary church commissions proclaim the worldly aspirations of the patron or the institution, rather than pointing worshippers towards God ‘in Spirit and in Truth, as Christ intended our devotion to do [Jn.4:23].
ST. MARY MAGDALENE Duomo, Arezzo. Late 1450s to 1466? Fresco. 190 x 80 cm.
From its style, this fresco, on the left wall of the cathedral, next to the sacristy door, was probably painted around the same time or immediately after the Legend of the True Cross cycle in St. Francesco, Arezzo, but it may date to later. Mary may have been considered particularly relevant in the late 1450s and early 1460s, as John Capistran had attributed to her the victory at the Battle of Belgrade over the advancing Turks in 1456, (three years after the fall of Constantinople). The battle had taken place on 22nd. July, the feast day of Mary Magdalene. Piero is also recorded as being in Arezzo again in December 1466, when he was commissioned to paint a banner of the Annunciation for the Nunziata confraternity proclaiming their dedication, like that of John Capistran, to the name of Christ. It may be that the fresco was painted at this time to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Capistran’s victory. The architecture around the painting was altered in 1783, when the gothic tomb of Bishop Guido Tarlati was moved to its present position beside the fresco, requiring the trimming of Mary Magdalene’s painted architectural frame. Its painted marble lintel, over which the saint’s robe flows, was damaged further at a later date.
The saint is set within a painted arch, just above the head of the viewer, and the perspective is constructed with this viewpoint, making the life-size figure appear as though she is looking down towards us and reflecting. She appears to be observing us from above, as an example and intercessor for us. As with many of Piero’s images of holy figures, there is a certain detachment, as though their minds are on faith, truth and holiness, rather than empathising emotionally with the viewer. Piero has lit her with the same angle of light as the architecture and its reliefs, thus emphasising the reality of her presence. Behind her the background, now faded, was a blue sky, against which the strong colours of her robes make her stand out luminously. It must have originally that she was standing in an open arch on the wall, observing the worshipper below.
Mary is not represented in her usual iconography as a penitent sinner. She looks down on us with a confidence, serenity and care, as though she is considering us and will intercede for those of whom she approves. As with many of Piero’s saints with haloes, Mary’s halo is shown in perspective. It was originally gilded, as were her sleeve and belt. These would have reflected the light from windows and flickering candles. She wears a green robe over which is a voluminous red cloak with a white lining. These colours possibly relate symbolically to the three cardinal virtues: Faith (white), Hope (green) and Charity (red), emphasising that she had been clothed in virtue by Christ. White represents the purity of her Faith, green represents her Hope in salvation and red was associated with the Caritas love which she felt for Christ. The red of Mary’s cloak was also probably intended to represent her former sinful life, made pure by Christ’s intervention. (Mary Magdalene was associated confusedly with the woman taken in adultery, conflated with Mary of Bethany and regarded as a former prostitute. None of these are true to the biblical account of the Magdalene and one who Jesus exorcised, but they have persisted in common understanding through many centuries.)
Piero’s interest in optics and light is shown in the way that the light on the figure is consistent with the light effects painted on the architecture and the light in the building. The light is especially strong on her oil-jar and the white satin-like lining of her cloak, the colour of which may be intended to suggest, not just her faith, but the strength of purity which salvation has brought to her, and which her intercession with Christ might bring to the viewer. Her red hair is loose and Piero paints it flowing finely over her shoulders, suggesting the length of the tresses with which she would dry Christ’s feet. This was another commonly-confused conflation of Magdalene with both the woman in the house of the Pharisee and Mary of Bethany. Her halo, cuffs and belt were probably originally gilded, like the water and rays of light in the Baptism and the halo in the St. Julian. According to the Golden Legend, Mary lived as a hermit after Christ’s death. During this time Mary’s clothes fell to tatters but God enabled here hair to grow to cover any shame of her nakedness. Donatello’s expressive sculpture of Mary represents that legend. Here Piero represents her as a still young woman, elegantly robed by God, but the emphatic focus on her spreading hair may suggest the beginning of this miraculous growth.
Mary holds a crystal and gold container of the oil with which she was to anoint the entombed body of Jesus, (just as she had anointed his feet in her identification with Mary of Bethany and the forgiven sinner). It may also be intended to imply that she can heal our own wounds and be a balm to our sufferings. The container is painted with precision and careful observation of the effects of light on glass and reflected through oil. It shows Piero’s interest in conveying varieties of textures, as was particularly evident in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. This is probably influenced by the Netherlandish paintings he had seen in Urbino, and perhaps Antonello da Messina’s work, seen in Rome. The precision and clarity of painting was possible because he was using smoother and harder plaster for his base than most former fresco painters; in some cases he incorporated finely ground marble into the ground. Mary’s oil has also sometimes been associated with the jars of unguent scent sometimes shown in art as a sign of a prostitute. However, here the jar is more obviously associated with purity, being held next to her heart and embraced by the lines of her cloak, rather like a veil. The shape of the jar also feels rather like the form of a traditional pyx, holding the consecrated host. According to legend, in later life as a hermit, Mary spent long periods of time meditating upon the sacrament. She holds the jar with a gentle gesture of her fingers, which was associated with elegance, grace and beauty, as shown in several Renaissance portraits.
ST. JULIAN? Pinacoteca Civica, Sansepolcro. Fresco fragment 135 x 105 cm. c1455-60?
This fragment of fresco was painted within the apse of Sant’ Agostino in Sansepolcro ( a church later re-consecrated to St. Clare), and was only discovered on 23rd December 1954 before being detached and removed in 1957. It was originally painted in both fresco buono and secco, and the underpainting of the flesh was primed with terra verde. Sadly many of the details painted in fresco secco have crumbled away over time. The elliptical halo was tinned then gilded; the tin presumably made the gold appear more luminous. The figure has now lost its architectural context, in which, like the Magdalene fresco in Arezzo, it would probably have seemed to be realistically set and lit within the architectural framework, though here the surround was rectangular. The head was between three and a half and four metres from the ground, so the figure would probably have had a presence somewhat like that of the Magdalene. Now only showing the head shoulder and part of the chest of the saint, it was probably originally a full-length figure. Julian stands against a painted panel representing black marble with a green stone surround, making the red, green and white of his clothes and the lightness of his head stand out in relief. The three dimensional effect must have been heightened by the highlights in his hair and the way it cast shadows on his face. Stylistically it is usually dated to sometime in the 1450s, around the time of the Arezzo frescoes, before or after Piero’s visits to Rome. It is presumed that he made a visit c1455; he certainly was there for documented work in 1458-9).
There are many St. Julians in the Catholic Church, this is probably Julian the Hospitaller, a popular saint in the middle ages, whose story is told in the Golden Legend, which we know Piero consulted in painting the frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross. Julian is represented in the legend as having killed his parents in error, and travelled to Rome in penance, with his young wife, where they received absolution. During their journey home they reached a river, on the banks of which they built a hospice where they cared for the sick and the poor. They also ferried travellers over the river. As well as being revered as ‘Julian the Poor’ and ‘Julian the Hospitaller’, Julian also became known as the patron saint of innkeepers, travellers and boatmen. His saints day is February 12th. He and his wife are probably fictional characters, though they were possibly variants of the story of Julian and Basilissa, (also possibly fictional, whose saints’ day January 9th), who reputedly turned their house into a hospital for the poor and travellers. This Julian was supposedly martyred under Diocletian, alongside a priest Anthony, his recent convert Anastasius, a married woman Marcionilla and her young son Celsus in Antioch c.302C.E.
The identification of this figure as St. Julian is based on contemporary images of the saint like those by Masolino and Andrea del Castagno. Julian the Poor’ / ‘Julian the Hospitaller’ is represented traditionally as a youth: he was often represented as a young hero or a romantic cavalier. In Piero’s fresco he is given blonde, finely curled hair, as in many of the young men and angels in Piero’s works. Originally the hair was picked out in more detail as in the angels in the Baptism of Christ, or the hair of Christ in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. But in this case the detail was painted in fresco secco, of which only a few highlights remain, though his original curls are shown in the shadows delicately cast on his forehead. Piero gave the saint a serious, innocent yet apprehensive expression, looking to the side like the Magdalene or the right hand angel in the Senegallia Madonna. This apprehensive look may be intended to represent his penitence at the death of his parents. Fairly unusually for wet fresco painting, Julian’s features were delicately painted over a green earth ground, as in traditional Italian tempera portraiture and the technique employed in Piero’s Baptism of Christ. This may have been experimental, but the experimentation was successful. His clothes are those of a contemporary noble, with a velvet cloak, green damask shirt and pleated and ribbed, patterned over-shirt. Piero shows his interest in varieties of texture in both his painting of the hair and Julian’s velvet cloak contrasted with his patterned and ribbed silk shirt.
Against the black marble background, the figure of the saint, especially his hair; appears backlit. This may not be intentional, but the result of the loss of the thin area of fresco around the edges. Piero painting his background sections of plaster first, leaving space at the edges of some figures and the hair, to be filled-in using ‘fresco secco’, which in many cases has crumbled away. These images of saints by Jerome appear to have a confidence and security in their faith, which was intended to act as a model and guide to the devotion of the onlooker.
POLYPTYCH OF SAINT AUGUSTINE (Museu de Arte Antiga, Lisbon; National Gallery, London; Frick Collection, New York; Museo Poldi Pezzoli, Milan.) 1454 - 1469
This dispersed altarpiece is now known only through a few surviving panels: St Augustine (Lisbon) and The Archangel Michael (London) St. John the Evangelist (New York) and St. Nicholas of Tolento (Milan). Records document that its main panel was a Madonna and Child, now lost. This was presumably similar to the Madonna and Child in Piero’s Polyptych if St. Anthony. A few smaller surviving panels are thought to have perhaps belonged to this altarpiece, though their connection is disputed: St. Monica and an Augustinian Saint who it is difficult to identify and a Crucifixion, all in the Frick Collection, New York, and St. Apollonia in the National Gallery, Washington
This was painted for the high altar of the church of the Augustinian Friars in San Sepolcro. The contract drawn up on 4th October 1454 stipulated that the work was to be completed within 8 years, though with the other demands upon Piero, the altarpiece took 15 years to finish. Payment was partly from the friars and a wealthy Borgo citizen Angelo di Giovanni di Simone d’Angelo. Both parties paid in a combination of florins and parcels of land: 189 florins including 100 florins-worth of land from Angelo; 131 florins including 89 florins-worth of land from the friars and the Operatai of the Fabbriceria. The final payment of 50 florins of the 320 florin total was paid by Angelo’s heirs on 21st May 1470.
We do not know when the altarpiece was dismantled. The friars moved to the parish church of Pieve di Santa Maria in Sansepolcro in 1555 but this second church was demolished in 1771. Their original church of St Augustino was taken over by the Poor Clares of Sta. Chiara, who brought their own altarpiece painted by a follower of Perugino, depicting their own saints Francis, Jerome, Louis, Mary Magdalene, John the Baptist and Catherine of Alexandria, alongside Mary, the Apostles and angels (now in the Pinateca, Sansepolcro). The friars may have dismantled or rearranged their large polyptych at this time, or later. Records of 1634 and 1825 suggest that the church of Sta. Chiara displayed paintings of the Virgin and Child, St. Augustine and St. Nicholas by ‘a noted painter of San Sepolcro’ below the organ, so two of the extant panels may be these. Other panels were recorded in the family home of the Ducci in Sansepolcro in 1680, including predella panels of the Flagellation, Crucifixion, Deposition and Resurrection.
The four surviving large panels were offered for sale from Milan in the 1860s and 70s. Four smaller panels of saints were still in the possession of the Franceschi family (Piero’s heirs?) in 1904 when they were offered for sale to the National Gallery, London before entering the Florentine art market, then a Lichtenstein collection, from which three were acquired by the Frick Collection, New York in 1950 (one of St. Nicholas of Bari disappeared after 1904). The Crucifixion was on the art-market in Milan between 1910 and 1915. It passed through tree collections before Rockefeller donated it to the Frick in 1961.
The figures of saints are set against a blue sky and a low stone parapet decorated with a classical frieze. By the time he painted this altarpiece Piero’s use of oil paint had become more sophisticated, using layers of warmer colour beneath the eventual image and fluent confident brushstrokes. As with many of his works he was intent on correct effects of light, which falls from the same direction on all the figures, except St. Apollinaria, who, it is presumed, was probably positioned in a different position in the altarpiece. St. Michael and John the Baptist were probably to the left and right of the central Virgin and Child as the step of the throne is visible at the edge of their bases.
St Augustine
As the patron saint of the order who occupied the church, Augustine is represented as a bishop. He carries a sacred book, covered in red leather, with golden clasps and a gold crozier with a pure crystal shaft. His white gloves, embroidered with gold and crystal stars, also suggest his purity and the authority of his ministry, emphasised by his rings. He is robed in black, the colour to the habit of Augustinian friars. Over this, the glory of the painting is his sumptuous cope, embroidered with images of the life of Christ. This of course would be the ceremonial robe of a contemporary Renaissance bishop, not of Augustine himself, as and early bishop. In the embroidery are images of the Annunciation, Flight into Egypt, Presentation in the Temple, Prayer in Gethsemane Flagellation and Mary at the foot of the Crucifixion. One further image is glimpsed in the folds of his cloak, which is probably a resurrection scene, the red figure may be Mary Magdalene meeting the risen Christ. On the clasp of Augustine’s cope the risen Christ rises from the tomb, and on his mitre, beaded with pearls, is represented the risen Christ holding his cross, with half-length saints below. On the shoulders of his cope are four full-length saints, including St. Paul and John the Baptist. There is great realism in the representation of these embroidered scenes; the perspective bends with the folds of the garments. The splendour of his cope and the subjects of the embroideries emphasise Augustine’s role as a leader, follower of Christ and observer of the members of his Order. He is represented as authoritative, majestic and monumental, with a serious expression as though observing viewer and assessing the ministry of his Order. The wealth of his adornment may also be intended to reflect the aspirations of the wealthy lay patrons who commissioned the work, as they had also left money for ‘beautiful and costly vestments’, for the church which this altarpiece was to grace.
The painting is in wonderful detail, painted both in tempera and enlivened and finely detailed with oil paint. This detail is probably influenced by Piero’s contact with the finely detailed Northern European paintings becoming fashionable in northern and central Italy.
The Archangel Michael (London)
Michael is portrayed as a Roman warrior with sword and military boots, treading on the serpent-like body of Satan. He holds its dripping reptilian head in his left hand and, in his right hand, a curved sword. Its form is that of the contemporary ‘falchion’ rather than an ancient Roman sword. His breastplate is a blue muscled, leather cuirass, trimmed with gold. It may be based on Byzantine armour, still in use for ceremonials at Constantinople, which was based on Roman parade armour. The colours of the cuirass imply his heavenly origins and glory. It is ornamented with rubies, sapphires and pearls at the shoulders and on the jewelled collar. His large white wings are feathered. His grouping with St John may at first seem incongruous; one might have expected two archangels or two saints. However, he and St John are the name-saints of patron Angelo di Giovanni, and St. Michael’s breastplate bears the inscription ANGELUS, POTENTIA. DEL. LUCHA, implying, a connection between the ‘Angel’ and ‘Giovanni’ or The Angel of St John. The word LUCHA was possibly originally MICHA, a shortened form of ‘Michael’, but may have been wrongly restored, or be a corruption of the word for ‘Light’. The term POTENTIA possibly refers to a treatise by Pope Sixtus ‘De Potentia Dei’.
The representation of Michael seems rather different from that of the other surviving saints but this may be accounted for by his an angelic nature.
St. John the Evangelist (New York),
The figure of St. John is dressed in the voluminous robes of late Roman antiquity. His identity has been contested, and has also been suggested by various scholars to be Saints Andrew, Peter, Paul, Simon the Zealot, or Clement. Yet he is almost certainly John as he is similar to the representation of John on Piero’s Polyptych of the Misericordia and the Montefeltro Altarpiece, so appears to have been part of Piero’s regular iconography. His large rectangular cloak is a Roman pallium. Beneath this he wears an ankle length, sleeved tunic with elaborately embroidery at its hem. Only he of the surviving saints is represented barefoot, which implies a certain poverty and humility, though the rich hem of his tunic suggests his importance and authority. He is represented in old age with white hair and beard, intently reading his Gospel, which is bound in red and bordered in gold, implying that it is of superior quality.
St. Nicholas of Tolento
Nicholas, who died c.1306, was an Augustinian friar who had been recently canonised in 1446. He was known as an eloquent and popular preacher. Unlike the figure of St. Augustine, his monumentality and presence is created more by his stance and powerful stature in a simple, 15th Century Augustinian habit than by the elaborate robes. He seem to be about to address the viewer in an authoritative preaching pose. Piero probably invented his features.
Polyptyches like this were designed to focus the devout on the saints and spiritual emphases of their particular foundation or area. For the Augustinians this altarpiece represented saints and themes which were particularly significant to their history, beliefs and spiritual calling. Locally connected saints or those related to specific issues were intended to encourage the devout to follow their example, not just rely on their intercession or intervention. (Jerome, in Piero’s two small devotional pictures already mentioned, was a model for this.) Even extensive polyptyches represented just a few elements of the whole narrative of salvation and a small selection from the Communion of Saints. The altarpiece is primarily a reminder of the promises and doctrines of faith, to focus faith and worship towards God. It is not itself a source of salvation, nor meant to be a primary focus for intercession. One is meant to look beyond the images to the spiritual realities which they represent. However some superstitions survive and the specific intercession of saints is still sought within some Christian traditions. The saints above are part of the eternal family, of which we are part, and examples for our own discipleship.
MADONNA DEL PARTO Museum near Santa Maria a Nomentana, Monterchi. Before 1467
This fresco now appears in a context very different to its original intention; it has in fact changed its context several times over time. It is now in a museum, (a former school-building,) near its original church setting in Monterchi. Monterchi is 15 miles southwest of Sansepolcro on the route to Arezzo, Perugia and Rome. The fresco was painted for the 13th Century church of Santa Maria Momentata, otherwise known as Santa Maria della Sella, some distance outside Monterchi, between Sansepolcro and Citta di Castello. The church was expanded by the Medici, who built a Franciscan priory alongside the church during their overlordship and patronage of the district.
The original date of the fresco, like many other commissions by Piero, is debated. The style of Mary’s headdress and veil is found in fashions of works by contemporary artists dated 1456. The angel figures resemble Piero’s figures in the Death of Adam in Arezzo frescoes and other works around 1464. It is suggested to be before 1467 because it appears to have been referenced in Boccati’s work in the ‘Camera Picta’ at Urbino. Whatever the date, its painting is of high quality.
Due to reductions in use and changes in society a decision to demolish the church was made in 1785. Most of the nave was destroyed and the apse area containing the fresco was formed into the small chapel for a newly consecrated town cemetery, which the building survives as today. For a century the chapel served the community but neglect of the building and its fresco gradually damaged both. The painting continued to be of influence in the district as a devotional work, and was revered almost as a talisman for the locals. The Madonna was regarded as a protectress, particularly for vulnerable pregnant women, as well as others in the town. This superstition, which the devotional work accrued, may not be a true aspect of Christian spirituality, and is not to be encouraged as ‘worship in spirit and in truth’, but it shows how a work of art can significantly affect and influence a community.
With the late 19th Century growing interest in rediscovering Piero della Francesca, the chapel and its fresco were ‘rediscovered’ by art-historians in 1889. The original chapel was badly damaged in an earthquake on 26th April 1917, after which this fresco was detached from the wall in an attempt to save it and prevent its further deterioration. In doing so, however, it was cropped from its architectural setting, resulting in several losses to the paintwork and details, as well as loss of context. It was temporarily transported to Florence for conservation. The present chapel was reconstructed in 1927 and the detached fresco returned to its position. It was restored again in 1928, 1952-3 and 1992. After its restoration in the 1950s it was proposed to remove the fresco to Florence temporarily for an exhibition, but its veneration in Monterchi had developed to such an extent that the townspeople objected and it remained. From the 1980s and 90s it gradually developed as a place of touristic pilgrimage on ‘The Piero Trail’, which enhanced its reputation but put it in danger of greater deterioration. Its more recent removal to a museum was controversial, among locals especially, though it was deemed necessary for the protection of the fresco from further deterioration. This sadly removed it from its devotional ecclesiastical context.
Monterchi was the home town of Piero’s mother. Modern psychological thought may assume that this had extra significance for Piero in painting a pregnant Madonna. However such significance may only have been slight to Piero. A story used to circulate that the chapel was the burial place of Piero’s mother Romana di Perino. This was a fallacy, since she was buried in Sansepolcro, like the rest of Piero’s family, and the painting was not originally seen as part of a mortuary chapel, but in the apse of a church intended for the devotion of all. The primary significance of the commission seems to have been that the painting should represent the security of Mary’s maternal intercession and protection for all, not just those who are pregnant. Its later context in the setting in a cemetery chapel added further significance to the original intention, as the mortality rate of both infants and mothers was high.
It is now remains detached but was originally surrounded by an architectural background, set against trompe-l’oeille painted, vari-coloured marble panels on the wall (rather like the background of Solomon’s palace in the Legend of the True Cross or the apse in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. It was painted in fresco behind a free-standing altar, rather than traditionally painted onto panel. Only a few fragments of this painted marble remain visible beside the canopy. It has been inferred from contemporary documents, discovered in 1977, that the painting was originally set in an architectural framework, a niche or triumphal arch, behind a free-standing altar. The evidence for this has been disputed, as the background appears intended to be flat, though the fur-lined, canopied tent is curved. The fresco was painted over a former fresco of the Virgin, over which Piero laid a thin layer of mortar before painting primarily in dry ‘fresco secco’ using tempera, not true ‘buon fresco’ on wet plaster. This technique sadly contributed to the deterioration of the work.
The image of the pregnant Mary may not have been as rare in mediaeval art as it appears today, since the iconography was suppressed by the Counter-Reformation. It was regarded as unbecoming to show the pregnant Virgin, and several images of the theme were banned and destroyed. This seems ironic, since the Church encouraged images of the Annunciation and the nakedness of the infant Christ in the Nativity, as well encouraging procreation within families. The emotional content of the imagery, nevertheless, led to it being strongly venerated by the local townsfolk; an attitude that continued into the 20th Century. For a painting above the altar of the church, the Church authorities in 1583, following Counter-Reformation principles, considered the fresco indecent, which is partly why it was allowed to deteriorate. Several later bishops commented on its beauty but its decline continued. We should be grateful that the image was not deliberately damaged or destroyed. The same composition, perhaps a copy of Piero’s, painted by Pier Francesco Fiorentino, was portrayed in the Vicar’s Palace at Certaldo, but that image of the Madonna was destroyed and only the canopy and angels survive. Fiorentino’s work was not quite as symmetrical as that of Piero.
An ancient representation of the gesture of Mary touching her womb is found in a 9th Century fresco in the crypt of Santa Prassede, Rome. Piero’s innovation in the iconography was to show Mary’s gown unlaced, prominently revealing her white underclothing. The white may be intended to stress her perpetual virginity and purity. Her under-dress opens slightly revealing her undergarment, which is painted in flesh-red, symbolising her humanity, which would be passed on to her son. The similarity of the shape of this opening in her garments to the shape of the vulva has been frequently noted by modern, post-Freudian interpreters, but this is probably unintentional, as it seems anachronistic in terms of 15th Century religious sensibilities. As the Madonna del Parto is an intentional symbol of parturition it is just possible that the shape refers to the end of the birth canal. However, if the shape has any symbolic intention it is more probably that of a wound, referring to Zechariah’s prophecy that a wound would pierce Mary’s heart [Lk.2:35]. A similar opening is seen in Mary’s cloak in the Motefeltro Altarpiece, which has sometimes been interpreted as referring to the Duke’s wife Battista’s death after childbirth.
In the Madonna del Parto, Mary is painted life-size, emphasising her reality and monumentality as a figure of faith. She is placed within a red tent, or tabernacle, lined with panels of fur, suggesting the warmth of her presence and the protection of the womb. The tent was originally surmounted by a conical roof, pointing towards heaven, like a royal pavilion or a tabernacle for a life-sized host. The effect implies that she is a figure who is eternally present within the church to appeal to for intercession. The imagery includes multiple layers of iconographic references, as one might expect within intellectual Renaissance art: As well as the obvious maternal imagery, she is being represented as the tabernacle for the Saviour, the Ark of the New Covenant, The Tabernacle of the Scriptures, the fulfilment of Hebrew prophesy and the bringer of the New Covenant in Christ. One of the many titles for Mary within the Roman Catholic Church is ‘Foederis Arca’, identifying her with the arc of the New Covenant. The arc in the Hebrew Tabernacle, had sacred contents including the tablets of the law and the showbread as reminders to the people of God’s covenant fulfilment of promises. It was covered by the mercy-seat of two cherubim above which God’s presence lived among his people. The symbolism of Mary as the ‘arc’ views her as carrying the treasure of Christ within her womb. He was the fulfiller of the promises of God through history, the fulfilment of the Law, and the bread of life. As the bearer of Christ Mary was thought to have been guarded in her pregnancy by cherubim; here in the fresco the two angels unveil her presence and aid in her protection, as well as offering protection to viewer. Mary is also being represented as the mother of the Church, so in some ways the security of the tabernacle which she provided for Christ is being represented as also present for Christ’s followers.
The tent may also suggest the ‘tabernacling’ of Christ within the womb of Mary and within the world through his incarnation, though this may be extending the metaphor further than Piero intended. The opening of John’s Gospel: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” literally uses the term “and ‘tabernacled’ among us” [Jn.1:14]. Piero’s personal scholarship would not have known this, but he might have been informed through his contact with classical scholars. The tent’s lining of pelts may be intentionally similar to the description of the linings for the tabernacle, which held the arc of the Covenant in the wilderness. That tent was stipulated to have ‘eleven curtains of goat skins’ joined together [Ex.26:7-9; 36:14-16]. Though those curtains, at 30 cubits, were far are longer than those represented here, they seem to relate to the eleven tiers of pelts represented inside Mary’s tent. The colour of Mary’s tent or canopy may also relate to the tabernacle, for crimson and purple were among the colours designated for God’s tent [Ex.35:6, 35].
Unlike the earlier paintings in which Piero created elaborate perspectives, here he created a much simpler composition, focusing us on Mary as the devotional subject. The angling of her body is deliberate, as it reveals her pregnancy more effectively than if she had been represented as directly facing the viewer (as in the Madonna della Misericordia). She rests her hand on her stomach. The representation of pregnant women was rare at the time in Italian art. She looks more like a strong country girl with whom locals could identify than an idealised elegant woman or Queen of Heaven, who would be expected to be portrayed with platonic beauty. She is not enthroned or crowned but wears blue, which traditionally represented her link to eternity and the heavenly dimension aspect of her calling, as well as her future Assumption.
The mirroring of the angels holding back the drapery to reveal Mary creates an arresting symmetrical effect, as Mary stands at an angle. They are drawn from the same cartoon, used in reverse and probably include some painting by Piero’s assistants.. The angels vary only in the light and expression on their faces and the colouring of their robes: one is clothed in red with blue wings, the other in green with pink wings. The variations in colour both of the angels’ garments and those of Mary, suggest the Greek idea of thesis and anti-thesis. They are part of the ‘Foederus Arca’ iconography, revealing Mary as the arc or tabernacle through which divine promise was realised. Just as the Arc of the Covenant was surmounted by a pair of cherubim, so Mary’s spiritual nature is being revealed or unveiled to humanity by this pair of angels. They may represent the idea that Mary is designated Queen of Heaven, yet has a human identity. The imagery of angels drawing aside a curtain or veil is a common iconographic way of representing a revelation. A sensitive feature is that Piero paints gilded haloes of the angels and Mary as though they are transparent and distort the view of the lining of the tent as though it is seen through them. This is evidently a product of Piero’s observation of the distortions created by looking through angled surfaces.
The pattern on the cloth of the tent, held back by the angels has been identified as a pomegranate by a few commentators, which they suggest is a symbol of maternity. I am not, however, convinced by this identification as it is rather different from the pomegranate motif on many contemporary images. It could equally be a pineapple or a thistle, motifs used by Piero elsewhere. The thistle could be a reference to her sinlessness, the pineapple to her rare sweetness. The pineapple was historically also used in art and design as a symbol of welcome, hospitality, friendship, and also to demonstrate wealth. The first three of these would certainly be relevant to this image of Mary, the fourth could suggest the glory now enjoyed by her and promised to the devotee. The pomegranate was more commonly used in the Renaissance as a symbol of eternal life, since it was associated with Pluto, the fruit of the underworld and the story of Persephone being allowed to return to earth for a season. It is just as likely that Piero was emphasising more that this is a rich fabric, rather like the cloth-of-gold that he represented in the Legend of the True Cross frescoes, the woven cloth of the biblical tabernacle, or a rich brocade emphasising Mary’s exalted position. Its colour is symbolic of the human flesh that she contributed to Christ in his incarnation, while she herself wears the colour of heaven in her blue dress.
This context of the mural has now altered even more than the cropping of the image though the transfer of the fresco to the museum in Monterchi. Yet it is important to use our imaginative abilities to consider the painting in its original context. This is true of any work of art, particularly one intended for devotion or contemplation. Like interpreting a passage of scripture, it is meaningful to consider what a work was intended to indicate when originally created and what it would have meant to contemporaries who first encountered it. Only them should we consider what it might mean today and how we interpret and apply its message to our own situation. Some feelings of superstition remain, as seen in the local devotion towards the Madonna del in Monterchi. Yet society and belief, our understanding of life, attitudes to conception and birth, and our relationship with Christ. Mary, angels and the saints have all altered greatly in the centuries between the Madonna del Parto and our modern world. In contemplating the meaning of the work to us we should compare its original intention, and traditions and superstitions that developed around it with our contemporary foundations of faith and trust.
MONTEFELTRO ALTARPIECE Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan. c1472-74?
The altarpiece is thought to have been designed for Federico da Montefeltro’s tomb, but it is disputed whether it was designed for the family mausoleum in the round temple in the Pasquino courtyard beside the façade of the Palazo Ducale in Urbino, the church of San Francesco, Urbino or the Franciscan Observants’ convent church of San Bernardino near Urbino. All of these had connections with the Montefeltro family. The latter church was not begun until 1482 and only completed in 1487. An uncorroborated 18th Century tradition suggested that the painting was commissioned in the year 1472, when the Duke’s wife Battista Sforza died in giving birth to their son Guidobaldo. The tradition also suggests that Piero gave Mary and Christ the features of the dead wife and her baby, but this is unlikely, as Mary looks very little like any surviving portraits of Battista. At about the same period, Federico commissioned an Altarpiece of the Institution of the Eucharist from Justus of Ghent, who worked for the Duke, for the high altar of the Church of the Corpus Domini, where he was a member of the confraternity. Both he and his son are represented in that altarpiece.
Some believe that the altarpiece was painted soon after the Arezzo frescoes before 1466, others suggest that it was begun in 1469. Yet other historians believe that as Piero used the same cartoon or drawing as he used for his portrait of Federico it was commissioned by a successor, Bernardino della Carda, after Federico’s death in 1482. However, most historians date it to between his second wife’s death in 1472 and his rise to dukedom in 1474. From reflectographs and X-rays we know that Federico’s hands have been repainted. The style implies that this repainting may have been by a Flemish artist, perhaps Justus of Ghent. At that time a third ring was added, possibly in memory of his late wife.
After the completion of Piero’s Montefeltro Altarpiece it is thought that it was placed temporarily in the observant Franciscan Church of San Donato, Urbino. It is not believed to have been commissioned for this church because St. Donato is not represented in the painting. On the completion of the church of San Bernardino near Urbino, the painting was transferred there and remained in the church until 1811 when it was transferred by Napoleon to the Brera. The Montefeltro Altarpiece is often also known as the ‘Brera Altarpiece’ after the gallery where it is now found. When Napoleon’s invaded Italy in 1811 he used the Brera Academy in Milan as a store for work looted from central and northern Italy in during his invasion . It was stored there prior to transportation of the entire cache to France. Piero painting had been extracted from Urbino and carried by Napoleon’s troops to Milan.
Federico is represented kneeling before Mary and the Christ-child dressed in armour, humbly having laid his helmet and gauntlets at their feet, almost as though he is offering himself unguarded into their service. The symbolism reflects his character both as a military leader and as a Christian humanist scholar. Piero probably used the same drawing or cartoon for the portrait in the altarpiece as he used for the double portrait of Federico and his wife in the Uffizi, but Piero slightly idealised the portrait in the altarpiece by omitting the warts, which he had included in the portrait panel. Piero’s painting in this work is of extremely high quality, displaying attention to details of a wide variety of textures: jewels, marble, polished metal, varied fabrics including cloth-of-gold. The armour is painted in carefully observed detail, including the nuts and bolts which held it together and precisely observed Milanese-style elbow-guards. Federico’s praying hands are strong and carefully detailed, showing, not just his rings, but also the scars on his knuckles probably caused by his contests. (It is probable that these have been repainted by another Northern artist.) This attention to fine detail was probably intended by Piero to rival the Northern European works, which were becoming fashionable in northern Italian courts. He kept to the tradition of showing the donor portrait in profile, as he had done in the double portrait of Federico and his wife, commissioned in 1472.
Unusually for a portrait of a donor, Federico is not represented as directly adoring the saints. Painted in profile, he stares straight before him. This may be implying that he is connected to them by a spiritual bond rather than by vision. Federico’s relationship with the Church had been varied through his career. He had a close friendship with Pope Sixtus IV but the College of Cardinals opposed him and refused his petition for the marriage of one of his daughters to the nephew of the Pope. However, after his retirement, he returned to favour at about the same time as the painting of this portrait. In August 1474 he was involved in a military victory that rescued Rome from the tyranny of Nicolò Vitelli, and Federico was made ‘Captain General of the Papal Armies’ in a ceremony on the steps of St. Peter’s. It is thought that Pope Sixtus IV raised him from being a count to the level of dukedom as an incentive to discourage him from offering his influence and military services to other princedoms. In the same year Federico received the Order of the Golden Fleece; the King of Naples awarded the Oder of the Ermine and the King of England conferred on him the Order of the Garter. This painting most probably dates to before this rise as it does not include references to any of his new rewards. If the painting was for a private commission, Federico might have intentionally had his awards omitted but he was not a humble figure and the drama of the altarpiece does not imply modesty. Federico celebrated a military victory at Volterra in June 1472, so this work could have been commissioned in commemoration or celebration of this.
The positioning of the scene before an apse, presumably containing an altar may deliberately carry a political as well as religious intent. It suggested that Federico was an important defender of the faith and was responsibly committed to the church, which was so dominantly represented by both the architecture and saints in the painting. Two finely observed details may further suggest this: On his shoulder-guard the arched window of the church is carefully reflected and the visor on his helmet also prominently forms a cross, while the whole helmet carefully reflects Federico’s sword and mail. The emphasis on the classical style of the architecture helps to emphasise the fashionable, classical humanist aspirations of Federico’s court. Piero had moved away from a gold gothic framework for the saints of traditional altarpieces, with either a gilded or painted background to the figures. Here he used his considerable skills in emulating perspective to create a realistic architectural setting. It may be following the developing Northern European iconography of showing Mary as ‘the Madonna of the Church’, seen in several works by Jan van Eyck, but painted for the first time in Italian art by Piero. The invented architecture is not just carefully detailed; Piero has exactly worked out the light effects on the coffered vault, fluted pilasters, marble panelling and the shell form of the apse. It is unclear why he used the shell, which is usually a feature of smaller alcoves, not in architecture of such a large scale. Perhaps it was a conceit, playing with scale, or a reference to the shells worn by those on pilgrimage. Statues or representations of Mary were often displayed in an alcove, tabernacle or ‘aedicula’ to emphasise her status and holiness, This painting gives this idea extra emphasis, showing her and the birth of her child as the focus of the whole church’s understanding of the source of salvation. The shell might also hold a classical symbolism, perhaps referring to the myth of the birth of Venus, implying the spiritual beauty of Mary or her child, or even the beauty and virtues of Federico’s recently deceased wife. The inclusion of the ostrich egg hanging within the compass of the shell suggests that it has some relation to birth. It seems no coincidence that the egg, which was regarded as an equally perfect natural form to Euclid’s regular forms appears to hang immediately above Mary’s head, which is itself an almost perfect oval of similar size.
The static pose of Mary and the saints gives them a somewhat visionary appearance. They feel as though they are spiritually present without being as physically solid as Federico and the architecture. This may be a product of my imagination rather than Piero’s intention, yet there is a similar static presence in many of Piero’s paintings of saints, which gives an impression that he intended to represent their invisible presence watching over the material world, rather than making them appear too physically alive. It is apparent in the figure of Christ in the Baptism and Resurrection, the Senegallia Madonna , the Nativity, the Madonna del Parto and the Mary Magdalene fresco. Making Mary larger in scale than all the other saints beside her, also suggests that Piero is deliberately making her presence more emphatic. He was so precise in his measurements and understanding of perspective, that her large scale cannot be accidental.
The same is probably true of the unusual pose of the Christ-child on Mary’s lap. He appears rather like a cut-out, who would slip off her open knees. Although he is ostensibly asleep, he also could be dead, an idea found in several figures of the Madonna and child, especially those intended for tombs. The suggestion is that within the birth of Christ is the promise of salvation beyond death through his sacrifice on the Cross. It may be related to the images in the Book of Revelation of the enthroned lamb looking as though he has been slain [Rev,5:6, 12; 7:10, 14; 22:3-4]. The iconography may be associated with the celebration of the feast of ‘Corpus Christi’. He lies on a blanket or mantle of pure white lambswool, which may be a reference to Jesus as the sacrificial ‘paschal lamb’ and the ‘Lamb of God’ [Jn.1:29]. As in Donatello’s pulpit in San Lorenzo, Florence, or Filippino Lippi’s Corpus Christi Frieze in the Capella Carafa, Rome, this could almost be a representation of the ‘pieta’. Christ wears a necklace of coral, which was another symbol for Christ’s blood and was also often given to children at birth, baptism or circumcision as an amulet to ward off the plague or disease. It rests on Christ’s chest in the same position as the spear wound which would be thrust into his side on the cross, and which St Francis behind him reveals in his stigmata, as he holds cross out towards the child and Federico. The coral indicates that Christ himself will be the healing protection for the world. If the Corpus Christi association is intentional, it also alludes to the Eucharistic body and blood. Jesus’ total nakedness demonstrates the creedal belief in Incarnation: this child is ‘fully man’ as well as ‘fully God’. The naked Christ-child’s genitals were often shown to emphasise that he was fully human. He will give his life for the salvation of humankind. Piero was so careful in his planning of compositions that it cannot be accidental that Jesus lies in a direct line with Federico’s praying hands and parallel to the duke’s scabbard and the diagonal line of the pattern of the dais on which Mary is enthroned. Perhaps this is intended to imply that salvation and healing will come as a result of Federico’s prayer and our intercessions for both him and his deceased wife.
St Jerome beats his breast penitentially with a stone in one hand while his left hand points towards Christ in the same direct diagonal line that runs through Jesus’ body to Federico’s praying hands. The wounds of Peter Martyr, St. Francis similarly point to Jesus’ feet. As in the Senigallia Altarpiece, the saints are not represented with halos, adding to the sense of naturalism. Mary’s head-covering originally included a star-shaped ornamental brooch, probably indicating the divine nature of the revelation of salvation that came through her. As with the opening of Mary’s dress in the Madonna del Parto, some critics have associated the shape of the opening of Mary’s cope in this altarpiece with the vulva. However, this may only be a modern, post-Freudian interpretation of the imagery. Mary’s royal robe is of green cloth-of-gold indicating that her origin is of the earth. The angular nature of its folds suggests the weight of the gold woven into it, as the gold predominates.
It is unusual that Federico is not represented as being presented before Christ, Mary and the saints by a patronal saint, which was normally the case in other contemporary altarpieces. Only the finger of John the Baptist appears to point directly towards him, and John is more likely to be indicating the Christ-child. Often a soldier would be presented by a military saint, but here none of the saints have directly military connections. The closest is St Francis, who holds a cross in front of Federico’s face and whose left hand , with its prominent stigmata is directly above the duke’s head. Although Francis had renounced his knightly ambitions he, like other Franciscans since, had supported the defence of the Holy Land, so his positioning so close to Federico may be helping to emphasise the duke’s role as a ‘defender of the faith’. The portrayal of Federico dramatically shows that this is an altarpiece commissioned by a ‘Christian soldier’ in the full armour of faith [Eph.6:11-17; 1Thess. 5:8]. As Mary is being shown as the ‘Madonna of the Church’, Federico is represented as a ‘Soldier of the Church’. He is shown praying, as Eph.6:18 requires: “Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints.” Whether it is as true a representation of Federico’s faith and character as it is of his likeness is not for us to judge. He was a powerful man, whose activities and rise to power had not always been particularly Christ-like. His faith would have taught him to be aware of his sins and encouraged him to recognise all the damage that his career and rise had caused. It would have taught him to recognise the need for absolution through the Church, which was obviously partly the object of this commission. This is also a political statement, encouraging the Church to recognise that this politically, materially, militarily and intellectually strong man was on the Church’s side. The work is not just a propagandist image celebrating or promoting the faith of this man. Nor is it just a way of gaining favour with the Church: Federico would have been taught to believe that God looks beyond our own promotion of ourselves or our virtues to others. The altarpiece may have been commissioned in an attempt to gain favour and remission of sins from God in response to Federico’s beautifying of the Church in providing a devotional altarpiece. Rather in the manner of a chantry-chapel, he may also have hoped that those contemplating the image would be encouraged to pray for blessings upon him and the repose of his soul.
The styles of hair in the altarpiece have been suggested to date the work to earlier than its usually agreed dating of between1472-74. However, Piero may have simply favoured this style rather than needing to make his paintings up-to-date in fashion. He had the representation of higher ideals in mind, and perhaps styling the clothes to an earlier decade might have suggested the antiquity of the saints. Federico’s armour has been dated to c.1455-60, and while the patron would have wanted to be portrayed in the most contemporary fashion, it is not inconceivable that the military commander in his early 50s might have wanted to be portrayed in the style of armour he wore when he was at his prime as a warrior. Alternatively, as we do not know how many suits of armour Federico would have worn, this suit may have been his favourite armour, or an earlier suit which he owned, which was loaned to the artist for the period of painting. The detail of its form and the clarity of reflections upon it imply that Piero was probably painting the armour from natural observation, so it may well have been in his workshop for some time. The Duke does not wear the honours bestowed upon him in 1474, so it has been presumed that the picture must have been completed before this time. Though modesty does not seem to have been high in Federico’s character or intentions, it is possible that he is deliberately kneeling before Christ, Mary and the saints, naked of his awards and only seeking spiritual reward. He has, after all, removed his helmet and gauntlets.
Federico’s first wife Gentile Brancaleoni had died in 1457. He married his second wife Battista Sforza of Pesaro in 1459 but she died in 1472 of pneumonia, not long after giving birth to her 9th child. He kneels to the left of the Virgin and Child, which would be the position most often taken by a wife when a double portrait of patrons is included in an altarpiece. This position was probably intentional (as in the double portrait in the Uffizi, as it hid scars from Federico’s battles and tournaments. He had lost his right eye in a jousting tournament in 1447 and damaged the bridge of his nose, giving him his distinctive profile. As with the battle scars of mediaeval knights, disfigurement was not necessarily regarded as a disadvantage, as it aided his reputation for being ‘the eagle’, associating him with being powerful, ‘eagle-eyed and dangerous. His helmet appears to be dented, which could refer to his jousting accident or his successful activity in battle. This may also be referred to in the figures of St Francis showing his stigmata and Peter Martyr’s prominent head wound behind him. He may have been deliberately chosen to be represented in the more subservient position to indicate a humility that was not commonly apparent in his nature. Other commentators suggest that the imbalanced, non-symmetrical composition, with Federico looking towards an empty space at the feet of the Virgin and Child, may deliberately indicate the loss of his second wife, who had recently died and who one would have expected to be represented in the vacant space facing him. I find this last interpretation particularly convincing; it seems in harmony with the intellectual choices which Piero often made in the planning his works.
This was a new form of altarpiece for Italy, based on the Flemish fashion, painted as a single scene on one panel made from 9 horizontal planks, rather than in multiple panels. It is painted in oil paint, in a manner derived from Flemish art, with a wide variety of textures, to demonstrate the artist’s skills in conveying various materials: carpet, the ostrich egg, flesh, crystal, coral, armour, various weights and textures of cloth and embroidery. The figures are set before an alcove with a quarter-hemispherical head, which on further examination is revealed to be an apse, decorated with the classical motif of a scallop shell. As with the Flagellation, Piero created a strong illusion of architectural space. Although the space at first appears fairly shallow, since the figures are ranged as a long group before the architecture, the perspective has been calculated to represent an interior of about 45ft. in depth. Reflectographs and X-rays show that the architecture was carefully drawn out in metal-point. The setting makes the scene appear monumental. Sadly the frame that Piero designed for the painting was destroyed. The painting is now displayed unframed, which may be the case of some the warping of the board behind Mary’s face, damaging the area around Mary’s eyes. Most other areas of the painting are in good condition, having had yellowed varnish and ineffective retouching removed. It demonstrates the quality of preparation and execution that Piero put into his paintings. Sadly the lower plank of the painting has been cut down and the right side shaved slightly. These losses have somewhat damaged the architectural effect, the symmetry and the perspectival lead into the composition, which would have been given by the step on which Federico kneels.
It is probably that the architecture does not represent a particular church, though the architecture has been related to the architecture of Sta. Costanza, Rome, the Roman arch at Malborghettto near Udine, the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Ravenna and the Badia in Fiesole. It is more likely that Piero was imagining the ideal of the Church, both the Church Triumphant (represented by Mary and the Saints) and the Church Militant (represented by Federico da Montefeltro). If this interpretation is correct, the presence of the egg might imply the resurrection to which Federico and his wife aspired, in which they would have joined the Communion of Saints represented on the altarpiece.
The geometry of the composition is particularly complex. In his treatise on perspective, Piero showed how to construct buildings in perspective, particularly the drawing of an apse and cross-vault and coffered vaults. The precision of this drawing was used in the designing of this image. As with the Baptism a complicated geometrical patterning underlies the whole composition, which holds symbolic meanings, but various scholars interpret this differently.
From the arch hangs an ostrich egg, which has been given many interpretations. It has been related to a perfect mathematical shape, the perfect beauty of Mary whose head is positioned directly below it, and an allusion to the recent birth of Federico’s son. In his treatise on perspective, Piero demonstrated how to represent a ring hanging from a vault, which has been associated with this detail, as well as the ring above the Annunciation fresco in the Legend of the True Cross. In Christian symbolic iconography, which elaborated the legends and symbolism of the eastern bestiary, the egg could represent Christ’s incarnation or a prefiguration of his resurrection. The association of eggs with fertility and fecundity may refer either to Mary’s womb, Christ’s miraculous birth, the life-giving nature of Christ’s offer of salvation, or the fertility of Federico’s wife Battista Sforza. The choice of an ostrich egg as a subject, however, is more specifically related to the Incarnation. The ostrich in the Bestiary legends was said to leave its egg unattended in the desert. The chick had to hatch and develop on its own. It was seen as a symbol of Christ being left on earth by God and leaving heaven for an earthly life. The egg was also used as a symbol of resurrection, leaving the old shell to gain a new life and form. This may be intended to refer to the promise of new life beyond death for Battista. Eggs had often been placed on ancient tombs as symbols of regeneration, which may relate to this painting being intended for Federico’s own tomb, or may refer to his hope and prayer for his recently departed wife. Lavin claims that eggs were often suspended in churches in this way, but I have not personally discovered examples of this. In Mantegna’s Sant’ Zeno Altarpiece (c1460-65) an elaborate gilt and crystal votive oil lamp hanging above the Madonna and Child is surmounted by an ostrich egg, In that case it is accompanied by swags of fruit, vegetables and nuts, the symbolism of which tell the whole story of Salvation. In the Montefeltro Altarpiece the egg hangs simply from a thread, adding a sense of simplicity and purity to a carefully arranged sacred group. Yet it also contributes to the sense that the picture is also about mystery. The egg is not of course directly above Mary’s head, but about 45 feet behind her, adding to the sense that this is a conceit, an optical illusion created by perspective. Piero was also exaggerating the size of the egg, which would have appeared far smaller at that distance.
The architecture is designed in extreme detail, with precise perspective. Perhaps the dramatic architectural setting may have been influenced by Masaccio’s Trinity, which Piero would have seen in Florence. Although the space behind the group appears like a fairly shallow niche, the calculation that the architecture is far more monumental and that the space behind far deeper adds drama and power to the imagery. Before the sides and bottom had been cut down the approach to the group would have been more dramatic and the transepts reaching out to the left and right would have given the whole an even greater sense of awe. The relationship between the monumental figure of Mary and the architecture may be intended to reflect the idea of Mary as Mother of the Church ‘Maria Ecclesia’ as well as being the tabernacle of the child Christ. The whole scene shows an earthly noble as a defender of the Church in the presence and under the protection of the Church Triumphant in heaven, who he is honouring and emulating in his won mission. He is probably interceding for his deceased wife in the presence of Mary, the perfect example of motherhood and the Christ-child to whom he looks for redemption.
POLYPTYCH OF SAINT ANTHONY Galleria Nazionale dell-Umbria, Perugia. 338 x 230 cm.
This was painted for the convent of tertiary order of Franciscan nuns of St. Anthony in Perugia, probably commissioned by the prioress Flavia Baglioni, for whose house Piero had also produced work in 1437-8. An extension for the church, reserved for the community was built c1455, with a further extension for visitors built c1482. The Altarpiece changed position several times, first at the altar of the outer church before 1608, then the sacristy, then the altar of the inner church from 1671-78. It is thought by some that the arrangement of the panels may have been altered at this later date, and the predella removed. Napoleon suppressed the convent c1810 and had the polyptych moved to the local Pinacoteca, perhaps with the idea of later confiscating the work. It may have been renovated and reconstructed at this time to include the removed panels. Recent restoration has suggested that it is probably almost entirely the work of Piero himself.
The proportions of this polyptych are unusually tall and thin. It is thought that Piero probably designed the arrangement of the original frame himself, rather than having it imposed on him by an extant frame, unlike the Polyptych of the Misericordia. If so, the unusual proportions are of Piero’s own design. As with the Baptism triptych, the saints flanking the Madonna and Child are set against tooled gold rather than realistic settings, but they stand on a marble floor seen painted in precise perspective, as do the saints on the other panels. Unusually, they cast shadows on the gold at their feet.. The gold is tooled in an unusual way; some of its decoration has disappeared over time, yet, rather than being left flat to represent the light of the heavenly dimension, it is richly incised in a ‘pineapple’ pattern, rather like the decoration of damask. This makes the glory of heaven appear particularly rich. Its elaboration contrasts strongly with the simplicity of human life, lived by the particular saints represented in the piece and espoused by the discalced nuns of the priory. In the Madonna del Parto the gold, elliptical haloes of Mary and the angels were unusually painted to appear transparent. Here they are also unusually painted to reflect the tops of the heads of the saints, like polished mirrors. This again shows Piero’s fascination with optics.
The pointed top of the Annunciation panel seems strange, as it destroys the effectiveness of the building’s perspective, but this now appears to be its original form, not the result of cutting down of an original arch or flat top, as was once thought. Despite being reassembled, the arrangement of the panels is as described by Vasari, though the gothic arches and pilasters are not original. Various critics have commented on a sense of disunity in the overall effect of the altarpiece, and suggest that this might be due to its having been completed in different phases over a wide number of years, but recently discovered documentation implies that Piero worked on it between 1465 and early 1468.
It is arranged in four tiers:
Annunciation
Madonna and child enthroned, flanked by (from left to right) St Anthony of Padua, John the Baptist, St. Francis holding a Mt. Verna cross. St. Elizabeth of Hungary.
St Clare, an empty central roundel and St. Lucy. Unusually these are painted on the same panel as the saints above them, rather than on separate panels. The central roundel may have originally contained an image from the life of John the Baptist or his severed head, as he is not represented in the lower panels of the predella. It may even have housed a relic, as this was a hinged or removable panel.
The lower predella panels show a miracle from the lives of each of the saints in the main tier: St. Anthony Resurrecting a Child, The Stigmatisation of St. Francis, St. Elizabeth of Hungary Rescuing a Child from a Well.
Though unusual, the double predella was not unknown in altarpieces in Umbria and the Marches.
Mary is sumptuously robed in a crimson dress, shot with gold. The red indicates that she is of human flesh and emphasises that through her Christ became incarnate. This cloth-of-gold implies her special regal status in heaven, as it was only worn by the most noble or royal. (It is also worn by an angel in the Montefeltro Altarpiece, indicating that he is an archangel). Over Mary’s red dress her blue cloak indicates her heavenly supremacy and the divine blessing upon her. This contrasts with the humility of the grey-brown woollen robes of the three Franciscan saints who accompany her. The throne on which she sits with her son appears to be carved of marble with a cover, rather like the coffered niche of the Montefeltro Altarpiece, decorated with rosettes and guilloche patterns. All the figures appear strong, but the infant Christ appears particularly robust. His genitals are displayed prominently as a sign that emphasises that God has taken human form. He blesses with his right hand and holds a bunch of cherries in the other, as a sign of the sweetness and fecundity that has come from the womb of Mary in front of which he holds them. Joined cherries can represent the sweet union of love. Here they may represent the union of the divine and human in Christ, Jesus and Mary, or Christ’s love and unity with us his people.
Between the angel and Mary in the Annunciation is a deep arcade of columns reaching away in perspective, ending in a marbled wall. Several historians have noted the similarity of the architecture to Sta. Costanza in Rome, but with his knowledge of architecture and contacts with architects and craftsmen, Piero could easily have invented the arcade. In traditional iconography, between them the figures of the Angel and Mary, a vase holding an annunciation lily would normally have been positioned. As one has not been painted, this may have been a sculpted element of the original frame, as in Baldovinetti’s contemporary Annunciation in San Miniato al Monte, Florence (1466-7). Normally in a polyptych the Annunciation panel might have been relegated to the predella; here it is given more prominence, relating it more noticeably to the Madonna and Child below and emphasising Christ’s incarnation and divine origins. The deeply recessed corridor or cloister between Mary and the angel is probably intentionally symbolic, giving emphasis to the great difference between the dimensions of heaven and earth which Christ crossed in becoming human in Mary’s womb. The light streaming into this space is both natural and supernatural. Natural light casts the shadows of the left-hand pillars of the across the floor while strongly illuminating the pillars closest to Mary. (It may be significant that the colonnade consists of 10 sets of these pillars, which may represent the Commandments of the Old Covenant, which Jesus is fulfilling and advancing.) Above the shadowed pillars the dove of the Holy Spirit creates a spiritual light, (rather like that in the interior of the praetorium in the Flagellation). This radiates lines of gold towards the Virgin Mary.
A fascinating detail is seen where the gold rays cross or touch the architecture in the spandrels of the arches around Mary. The carved stone appears to change from black to red, as though the dead past in becoming alive with red, the colour traditionally associated with ‘Caritas’/‘Outgiving Love’. This may just be the effect of the red bole underpainting, but it adds to the sense of meaning. This colour is then repeated in the flesh-tones of Mary’s dress and the floor of the space in which she and the angel are set. This may imply the presence of love in the buildings where the Franciscan nuns lived and from which they ministered through prayer and charity. Another noticeable detail is the parallel between the dove radiating light towards Mary in the Annunciation and the vision of the Crucifix radiating light towards St. Francis in the central panel of the predella below. They balance each other as the crucifix is at the same angle as the dove’s rays and its power is then reflected back towards the saint and founder of the order which worship before this polyptych.
The figure of St John the Baptist is dressed in a scarlet-red cloak signifying his martyrdom. With Piero’s interest in balancing colours across his paintings, the red cloak, like the pink flowers of St Elizabeth pick up the colour of Mary’s robe. The work is painted in careful detail, as in the Montefeltro Altarpiece, which may suggest a similarity in date of execution. Piero also painted the figure of St. Francis in the same pose as in that Montefeltro Altarpiece.
In the predella paintings the light and shadow in scenes and the arrangement of the figures create a rhythm across the width of the altarpiece. The depiction of St. Francis’s stigmatization in the central panel is unusual and dramatic in being set against a dark, night-time background. Each of the three scenes is painted in fairly neutral tones, against which the main focus of the scene is painted in red to add to the emphasis. We focus on the place where the miracles of their patronal saints are taking place - the bed of the child, the dress of St Elizabeth, and particularly the glowing crucifix radiating the stigmata towards Francis and illuminating the night-time scene.
SENIGALLIA MADONNA Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, Urbino. c1478-80?
This panel in tempera and oil was discovered in 1822 in the Franciscan church of Santa Maria della Grazie on the outskirts of the city of Senegallia on the Adriatic coast. The town of Senigallia had been transferred to the patronage of Federico da Montefeltro from Sigismondo Malatesta in 1462 and the painting probably dates from late in the next decade, from the late 1470s or early 1480s, perhaps 1478 – 80. The church had been reconstructed from a smaller chapel in 1491 under the patronage of Giovanni della Rovere and his wife Giovanna da Montefeltro. Giovanni and Giovanna had married in 1478, having been espoused in 1474 so the painting could have been in celebration of this or commissioned in thanks for the birth of their son and heir in 1490. Around 1480 the couple had believed themselves to be unable to have children and had moved to new apartments in the Rocca at Senigallia, so the theme of the Virgin and Child could have related to this or have been commissioned as an offering in prayer for a child. (The date of 1490 is unlikely for Piero’s execution of the work as a thank-offering for their son, as Piero is supposed to have lost his sight by then.) It is certainly possible or even probable that the Montefeltro family could have commissioned the painting. A few critics believe it was originally commissioned by Federico da Montefeltro on the death of his wife Battista Sforza, as the Christ-child is said to resemble the young Guidobaldo and the interior is said to resemble the Palazzo Ducale, Gubbio, where Batista died, but, to me, the former explanations seem more convincing. The grander Montefeltro Altarpiece seems more fitting to have been Federico’s tribute to Battista, alongside their double portrait, again commissioned after her death. The attribution of the Senegallia Madonna to Piero has been contested: several early critics attributed it to his workshop assistants, but in recent years it has been more regularly attributed to Piero himself.
The theme probably derives from apocryphal gospels, where angels were supposed to have visited the Madonna and Child at home. It may also have links to legends of the Holy House of Loretto. The same idea of angels visiting a domestic setting is found in Filippo Lippi’s Madonna di Tarquinia, or Botticelli’s Madonna of the Magnificat. The painting and the interior especially seem to be influenced by Netherlandish painting, which was being increasingly collected in northern Italy, particularly the House of Montefeltro at Urbino. The work is painted in tempera and oil on a walnut panel, following the Flemish tradition. The colours are soft and harmonic. The composition is central, though the angels on either side of Mary and Jesus are not symmetrical as in the Madonna del Parto.
Like the Madonna del Parto, this Mary, as well as her setting, is domestic and not idealised. She is sturdy, represented in three-quarter length and shown in a contemporary Renaissance domestic interior, rather than an ecclesiastical setting or throne room. She wears a plain flesh-red dress, laced simply at the front, emphasising her humanity, with a grey woollen mantle, green cloak and a plain white organdie head-covering. There are no jewels or suggestions of glory other than on the blue angel behind her. Her forehead seems to be shaved high in the current fashion. Her eyes are lowered, as though in thought, humility or quiet reverence, recognising the greater importance of her son. She holds Jesus’ toes in an unusual way, which is more a domestic feature, perhaps derived from observation rather than representing elegance. If the picture was intended to occupy a raised position this might imply that she is looking down towards the viewer, but Jesus and the left-hand angel appear to be looking us as though the viewer is straight ahead. (She may of course be looking towards a kneeling or prostrate worshipper).
The effect of light, tone and colour are emotive. The Virgin and Child are represented in a grey domestic interior with a classically ornamented pilaster supporting shelves holding two baskets. St. Ambrose had described Mary using the symbol of a wicker basket (fiscella scirpea). One basket contains light cloths, which may be symbolic of the veil of mystery overshadowing both the incarnation and the Eucharist or the veils in the Temple, which Mary was said, in legend, to have woven and sewn. She was also said to have woven Christ’s grave clothes. Both the humility and humanity of Christ and Mary were described as veils in which the divinity of God veiled himself (humilitas filialis). The small box on the upper shelf is probably a pyx containing the bread of the sacrament, symbolising the presence of Jesus as the Bread of Life. The ornamentation is surmounted by a flaming torch, which could be intended to represent the activity of the Holy Spirit or the Easter Pascal flame.
Beyond this room we look into a smaller room into which light is shafting onto the wall, through dust particles, from half-shuttered, leaded windows. In Northern European art this would more often be a setting for an Annunciation, rather than an image of the Virgin and Child, as the room seems to be Mary’s chamber. It gives the impression of intimacy, a quiet place or cell for retreat where one might meet God in contemplation as in Mary’s Annunciation encounter. The light passing through particles of dust has been suggested to relate to a treatise on optics which Piero may have known by the Iraqui mathematician Alhazen, and which circulated in Italian Renaissance courts. When viewed in detail it is apparent that the reflection is made up of many droplets of water, perhaps intending to suggest the rain from heaven or spiritual dew that nurtures and nourishes the earth gently [Hosea 14:5]. It could also be an innovative way of representing the presence of the Holy Spirit, permeating in light through Mary to form her child. The interior is very close to the interiors of Netherlandish paintings, though it also resembles Mary’s cell or chamber, represented in Italian paintings of the Annunciation. The open door and the open window shutter are common symbols of Mary’s openness in offering her womb for God’s use in bearing the child. One of her titles is “Door to Heaven” / “Porta Coeli”.
Jesus is large, chubby and unidealised, more like the naturalistic Christ-child represented in many Northern European paintings. He is ‘real’, not a beautiful infant, which may intentionally refer to the Italian concept of ‘brutto-bello’/ beauty in ugliness’ as discussed in the figure of Christ in the Resurrection fresco. Jesus is posed in a relaxed way in the crook of Mary’s arm, though her pose does not seem as though she is carrying a baby of any substantial weight. His pose and robe, a child’s toga, suggest that we are in the presence of a classical philosopher rather than an infant. This may be intentional in a Renaissance world where classical scholarship was united with Christian faith: Piero seems to be representing Christ’s wisdom and intellect. He lifts his right hand in a gesture of blessing rather than in oration. In his left hand he holds a white rose, symbolising his and his mother’s purity and the peace he offers, but also the thorns of suffering, through which he would achieve salvation. Against his naked breast he wears a necklace and pendant of coral, traditionally given to children to ward against disease, particularly plague. (Plague had recently ravaged Borgo San Sepolcro and the surrounding area.) The form and colour of coral was also symbolically associated with the blood of the Saviour. Christ himself will bring healing to the world as well as wisdom and the knowledge of God. If the painting is related to Giovanni and Giovanna’s supposed barrenness, Jesus and his mother may be associated with their own prayers for healing. Unlike the Montefeltro Altarpiece, Christ is not naked, but the amount of chest visible through his open toga emphasises his humanity: God has become flesh and will give his life for humankind. This is an devotional image for a domestic setting, offering spiritual protection and blessing, comfort and peace within the security of salvation.
The presence of the angels adds a certain formality, as though they, as in the Madonna del Parto, are participants in revealing this vision of the Virgin and Child to the viewer and guardians of the holy pair. Yet they remain in the background: Mary and her Child are being revealed to us and Christ is blessing us in a personal and intimate way. The hair of the angels is simple and unadorned. One angel in blue-grey looks out at us, inviting us to draw into the scene, the angel in flesh-pink looks out beyond the scene, as if peering back into eternity. The angel in blue-grey is more elaborately dressed, with a gold collar and gold embroidery on his shoulder and sleeve. His crystal pendant perhaps suggests the all-seeing nature of eternity. His status suggests that he may be the angel of the Annunciation, still present both to protect the holy pair and draw us towards them, or an archangel. The angel dressed in flesh-coloured robes wears a simple ruched collar and a string of pearls, symbolising the purity, preciousness and riches to be found in Christ and his mother. Both angels have their arms crossed reverentially, as in the traditional pose of the angels of the Annunciation, used frequently by Fra Angelico. Their physiognomies too are not idealised, though they are both faces that Piero had used before. They resemble the angels to the side of Piero’s Baptism of Christ, but are dressed more conventionally, rather than in classical robes.
MADONNA AND CHILD ENTHROUNED BETWEEN ANGELS S. & F. Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Mass.
The attribution of this painting to Piero is questioned by many historians, but it is very close to his style and has many features that lead to its identification as a work by the master, or at least a very able, close assistant or follower. The elaborate varied gestures of the angels and Christ are unusual for Piero’s paintings. The figures have a certain stiffness, but that could also be said of many of Piero’s compositions. The craquelure of the oil-painting suggests that the preparation of the panel was not as exact as Piero usually used. It has also been suggested that the elaborate decoration of the architecture is untypical of Piero, but there are key similarities with the architectural background to the Senigallia Madonna, the Montefeltro Altarpiece and Sigismondo Malatesta before St. Sigismund. However the architecture seems more linear and less weight-sustaining than in much of Piero’s work and the swags in the distance are flatter than those of the Sigismondo Fresco. The consistent direction of the light on the figures and the one shadow on the step of the dais are consistent with Piero’s authorship, if one examines the floor of the Montefeltro Altarpiece. It could be that the work was designed and begun by Piero, with details completed by talented assistants.
In the 16th Century a work resembling it in description belonged to the Gherardi family in Borgo San Sepolcro and was attributed to Piero in a 1583 record of the collection of Jacomodi di Bernardino Gherardi. This was bought in Florence in 1837 by Lord Walter Trevelyan and his wife, and held in their English private collection. It was sold at Christies in 1869 with a provenance that connected it to the private collection in Sansepolcro. It came into the Williamstown Collection in 1957.
The setting appears to be in a pillared courtyard with a finely carved cornice. Mary and the Christ-child are raised on a dais carved with seven visible roses. She offers her son a rose, which he reaches out to take. The rose with a thorn has often been used as a Christian symbol of suffering through the crown of thorns. So this is probably an intentional image of Christ embracing the Passion in order to bring about salvation. Mary wears a translucent veil similar to that in the Senigallia Madonna. On her forehead is a simple diadem, rather like the one that was originally on the forehead of the Madonna in the Montefeltro Altarpiece.
In the background of the Montefeltro Altarpiece are four angels, all of which have similar features to the angels in the Williamstown Madonna and Child. Here also four angels surround Mary and Jesus, all with different gestures: From left to right: the arms of the angel in profile are crossed in devotion; the next has his hand resting humbly on his hips; the third has crossed arms, and the right hand angel points to Christ almost in a gesture of blessing with his hand resting at his side. This angel has the same features as the angel to the right of the Senigallia Madonna, yet has darker hair. As in the Senigallia Madonna, these angels seem slightly detached rather than emotionally involved in their devotion. This may be intentional, to show that the devotion of heaven varies from human emotion. The dress of the angels is relatively simple, with simply embroidered cuffs, collars and hems, rather than the elaborate embroidery of some of Piero’s middle-period paintings. They are closer to the clothes of the right hand angel in the Senigallia Madonna or the angels in the Baptism of Christ. The central angel in the Baptism has very similar features and the same floral garland as the angel behind the Christ-child. The angel to the left casts a shadow on the step of the dais, which is the only shadow cast in the picture though the far legs of both front angels are in shadow. The angel on the right looks out at us, as if to draw us into the scene. This use of a figure to engage and direct our vision is also true of the right hand angel in the Baptism, those in the Madonna del Parto, the figure immediately behind the Queen of Sheba in the Legend of the True Cross, the guards and resting steward in The Dream of Constantine, the gaze of Mary Magdalene in Arezzo Cathedral and John the Baptist in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. This angel has very similar features to the angel in red behind St. Jerome in the Montefeltro Altarpiece and the physiognomies of two other angels are close to other angels in the same altarpiece. The folds of their robes, while resembling those of other Piero works, are slightly stiffer and more linear. These similarities are so close that one has difficulty in not attributing the work to Piero, or an assistant who had absorbed his imagery and skills.
Jesus is a represented as a very robust baby. He is more emotional and realistic in his features than the child in the Senegallia Madonna. His pose, in reaching for the rose, is similar to the pose of the new-born Christ in the Nativity. This makes the meaning of the painting clear: Christ has come to embrace humanity through willingly accepting suffering the suffering of his Passion. Yet the beauty and fragrance of the rose implies that Christ’s Passion is also a positive action for humankind.
TREATISE ON THE ABACUS /Trattato d’ abaco
Vasari mentions that Piero wrote several mathematical treatises, though we know only three.
This 170 page treatise declares that it was planned to discuss mathematics “necessary to merchants” but its application reaches beyond this. It is written in the Tuscan vernacular, but its contents are not necessarily entirely original, as it borrows much from existing mathematical primers. Piero’s geometrical exercises are far more complex than those in Alberti’s ‘Elements of Painting’ (Elementi di Pittura), which are more directly orientated towards measuring objects and organising dimensions. It seems obvious that it was not written for a school as it is more complex than the teaching of an abacus school. Piero quotes Euclid, Archimedes and Pythagoras on the proportions and sizes of solids. The work methodically moves through an explanation of fractions and exercises, the nature of calculations and various problems of increasing difficulty. He discusses problem-solving by two-and three-dimensional geometry, and surveying by calculating distances through the use of angles of triangulation. Each problem is introduced with an anecdote explaining its relevance.
Although the treatise opens with an invocation for God’s help, this may simply be a common expression. The treatise is not particularly religious in nature and does not discuss the mystical or theological elements of mathematics and geometry as developed by Platonism, which were popular in the contemporary intellectual circles among which Piero moved and which Piero used in his painting. Plato and Euclid understood that the world had been created through five ideal forms (tetrahedron, cube, octahedron, icosahedron and dodecahedron,) and Piero discussed their forms and their relation to the sphere in his section on solid geometry. Piero explained the practical aesthetics of proportion, which he used in developing the beauty and serenity of his paintings. He employed algebraic measurements to explain form. In this treatise, he did not actually mention the Golden Ratio as a ‘divine proportion’, which was discussed by Euclid, Plato and other Renaissance theorists. Yet he explained the golden section and wrote of its proportions and the Platonic shapes as examples of beauty.
TREATISE ON PERSPECTIVE IN PAINITING: De Prospectiva Pingendi (after1459)
This was written after Piero’s return from Rome about 1459 and was probably influenced by moving among the humanist circles there. It was originally written in the vernacular, and was not originally given a specific title, but he had the manuscript later translated into Latin by a classical scholar, rather than attempting his own translation. Piero would have learned basic Latin early in his education, but was probably not confident in using it officially as a language, even in his maturity. By contrast with his former writing, he was more confident about how to construct a treatise, as this is far more clearly planned, though he does not seem to have felt confident enough in it as a humanist document to try initially to interest a high-born patron in sponsoring it. However, on its completion, he dedicated it to the Montefeltro court at Urbino, presenting the untitled manuscript in the popular tongue, which we now know by its Latin title ‘De Prospectiva Pingendi’ to the library of Federico II of Urbino in 1474.
Ghiberti, Brunelleschi and Alberti had worked out the principles of perspective before him, but Piero made them more exact, attempting to explain perspective scientifically and mathematically, through his interest in optics, numbers and geometry. He reduced even natural objects to measurable geometric forms. Piero claims that he intended the work for practical use to painters, not just theory. However, the mathematics of the work is far too complex for practical everyday artists. He called painting in perspective “a true science” and wrote meticulous instructions on how to draw a wide variety of object in geometrical perspective. He also recognised that several artists were wary of the use of perspective, as he wrote: “many painters are against perspective... therefore it seems to me that I ought to show how necessary this science is to painting.” Several contemporary critics, who he called ‘detractors’, also pointed out that the rigid use of geometrical perspective could sometimes distort the forms in an image. Some noted that the perspective created on a flat plane is different from that perceived by the curvature of the eye. Piero countered this. Michelangelo would later be quoted by Vasari as being content with rule of thumb and training the eye and hand to estimate visual truth rather than attempting precision and clarity through geometrical or mathematical perspective. The complexity of this treatise, particularly the third book, makes it appear to be more designed for the library of a humanist scholar than for the practical use of artists, few of whom would have had Piero’s drive for perfection of detail. It took a scholar like Albrecht Dürer to be able to apply Piero’s work.
Piero only addressed the linear and geometric aspects of perspective, though he recognised that colour and composition also related to perspective. He talks of three different perspectives; ‘natural perspective’ (the world as it is seen by the eye), ‘artificial perspective’ (geometric perspective drawn by a draughtsman) and ‘painters’ perspective’ (what is seen within the limited range of about 60 degrees in the artist’s visual range, if not too close to the objects). He also discussed the contrast between the ‘appearance’ of something - “the eye”, and our knowledge of the true size and shape of things which we see - “the intellect”. He was attracted to Plato and Galen’s ideas that vision was created by the eye focusing the power of the mind, sending visual rays towards the world beyond us, rather than vice versa. He quoted Euclid in exploring the ideas of proportion and shapes, based on Euclid’s ‘Elements’ and ‘Optics’, but he did not mention Archimedes. It has been suggested that he may also have known Pecham’s ‘Perspectiva Communis’. The treatise is divided into three books and shows in increasing complexity the application of perspective to flat planes, three dimensional objects and irregularly shaped objects. Piero, like Pecham attempted both geometrical and arithmetical proofs of perspective. Not only are the examples drawn in linear perspective, but many of the pages carry numerical calculations and mathematical explanations of the perspective. However, he does not always explain his calculations as the Greek mathematicians he admired would have done. While the first two books are similar to Alberti’s ideas in ‘On Painting’, the third book is much more complex, though using the same principles of tracing lines from points on objects and drawing them towards a flat plane or window.
The three books are based on drawing, measurement and colouring. Though they are intended for the work of artists and architects, they apply most specifically to architects and draughtsmen. Book One explores points, lines and 2-dimensional geometry. It contains exercises on representing buildings in perspective, including drawing the ground-plan of an octagonal building in perspective, drawing elevations of faceted columns, foreshortening details of windows and doors in perspective. Book Two is based on measurement (‘commensuratio’) and perspective (‘perspectiva’). It deals with the solid geometry of cubes, square pilasters, round and fluted columns. It includes exercises on representing a temple and church in perspective, round and octagonal windows, cross-vaults and rows of columns in perspective. Book Three explores the perspective and geometry for the construction of capitals and bases and geometric rings (‘torchi’ or ‘mazzocchi’) and also the form and perspective of human heads. He shows how to show a number of forms in perspective and from different angles: columns, bases, capitals, the architectural orders, churches, apses, vaults. He shows the human head in plan, elevation and foreshortened and how to foreshorten images of a cupola, apse and vase or wine-cooler on a plinth.
The famous Renaissance mathematician Luca Pacioli, who had been born in Borgo San Sepolcro, was younger than Piero. He discussed mathematics with the artist, perhaps in their home town, but also when they were working together at the court of Urbino. Vasari’s claim that Pacioli stole his ideas from Piero’s is slightly exaggerated, though he certainly copied large parts of Piero’s written work and published it under his own name. Pacioli had joined the Franciscan order c1470 and continued his studies in mathematics in Venice before returning to Borgo San Sepolcro. He moved on to work in several Renaissance courts, including working for the Sforzas in Milan, at the same time as Leonardo da Vinci who produced 60 illustrations tor his treatise on Divine Proportion. In Urbino Pacioli tutored Federico’s son Guidobaldo, to whom he later dedicated his ‘Summa de Arithmetica’ (1494). In both that work and his second book ‘On Divine Proportion’ / ‘De Divina Proportione’ (written 1497 and published in 1509) he praised Piero, first as “the prince of modern painting” then as “the monarch of our times of painting and architecture”... and drew attention to “the book about perspective that can be found in the magnificent library of our most illustrious Duke of Urbino”. However it is probable that his failure to emphasise Piero’s achievements in mathematics is due to the fact that much of the section on geometry in Pacioli’s own treatise was directly plagiarised from Piero’s ‘Treatise on the Abacus’ and his section on shapes was a direct copy in Italian translation of the whole of Piero’s ‘Book of Five Regular Solids’.
Piero’s work went on to influence other major treatises on perspective written later in the Renaissance by Sebastiano Serlio in Bologna, Jean Pélerin in France, Dürer’s ‘The Painter’s Manual’ in Germany, (1525) and the Venetian Daniele Barbaro’s ‘Practica della Perpectiva’ (1568/69). (Barbaro also produced modern Latin and Italian editions of Vitruvius’ ‘De Architectura’ and commissioned Palladio’s Villa Barbaro, decorated with frescoes by Veronese.)
TREATISE ON THE FIVE REGULAR SOLIDS / Libellus de Quinque Corporibus Regularibus c1482-92
Piero’s third small book is written in Latin. Piero may have written it originally in vernacular Tuscan, as with the treatise on the Abacus, but only a Latin copy survives.
It explored the qualities of the five basic Platonic shapes and the used the Golden Ratio and other new methods to calculate and render more complex polyhedra. In it, Piero seems to have revised and expanded parts of his treatises on the abacus and perspective sometime after 1482. It is dedicated to Guidobaldo, the son of Federico da Montefeltro, who had succeeded father, after his death in that year, so it must have been completed sometime between 1482 and Piero’s own death in 1493. In the dedication Piero referred to himself as an old man and wished this work to join the Treatise on Perspective in the Montefeltro library, indicating that in some ways he saw the work as associated with the two former treatises.
Its four parts are more abstract than his previous volumes. They use mathematics to explain the geometric theorems of Euclid and calculate the volumes, sizes and proportions of various geometrical forms. The first part explores 2-dimensional geometry; the second part examines the mathematics behind solid bodies inscribed within a sphere. Much of the first two parts rehearses ideas and exercises previously contained within the Treatise on the Abacus. The third part explores mathematical explanations of solid bodies contained within one another and the mathematics of spheres. Here he broke new ground in seeking to explain the arithmetic behind the proposals in Book XV of Euclid’s Elements. He completed the work by demonstrating how to calculate the volumes of irregular shapes, including the human body. Like Archimedes Piero proposed measurement of these irregular forms by immersion in water and calculating how much liquid is displaced. He states that every shape that is open to the senses can be expressed or at least approximated numerically. This work was inspired by the last books of Euclid’s Elements (Books XIII - XV) but took Euclid’s ideas further in attempting to explain them in terms of numbers and algebra. Some of this work was directly related to the forms used in architecture, explaining how to calculate the measurements of round columns, vaults, cross-vaults, intersecting hemispheres and the perspective of an apse.
This seeking to be able to calculate the qualities of physical objects shows the practical application of Piero’s mathematical work. He did not, however, specifically mention its direct connection to the work of an artist or architect. It was the Sansepolcro-born mathematician Luca Pacioli, who worked with Piero and who Vasari claims stole Piero’s ideas, who demonstrated repeatedly in his Divina proportione, how geometry and calculations the applied to the design of works of art and architecture. Pacioli published Piero’s Trattato d’abaco in his Summa Arithmetica in 1494, two years after Piero’s death. Then the Divina proportione (1509) published Piero’s Libellus de quinque corporibus regularibus in Italian translation. Both of Pacioli’s volumes were dedicated to Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, but Pacioli failed to acknowledge Piero’s authorship. Nevertheless, the two volumes distributed Piero’s mathematical work to a wider audience of artists, designers and artisans. Some of Pacioli’s woodcut illustrations, based on Piero’s stereometric drawings, were designed by Leonard da Vinci, another artist, who like Piero had wider interests and a broader intellect, which he applied in various fields.
The treatise particularly demonstrates Piero’s and the Renaissance mind’s fascination with understanding the material world. In some way by comprehending the patterns and design behind the physical world, they believed they might approach greater comprehension of the qualities and nature of the spiritual world which created them. It is not likely that Federico or Guidobaldo Montefeltro actually comprehend the details of Piero’s treatises. They probably didn’t even read them. It was partly enough for nobles to have such scholars working for them, to collect volumes of their scholarship and earlier learning in their libraries, and to have groups of scholars in their courts who could understand, discourse and advise on such matters. To have a platonic academy in one’s court was enough to establish one’s intellectual credentials.
This treatise influenced Piero’s next project (dated 1458) to create a complete compendium in Latin of Archimedes’ seven works. He created 225 illustrations and 150 pages of manuscript that became part of the Montefeltro library before being acquired by the Vatican library [Codex Urbinante Latino 1329].
PIERO’S REPRESENTATION OF CHRIST
We have no certain knowledge of details of Piero della Francesca’s personal faith. His regular commissions for various religious orders and his religious commissions for secular patrons indicate that he was regarded as a sound painter for subjects of faith. He was also trusted by his hometown, with a social position that would allow him to sit on the council of Borgo San Sepolcro, and trusted to paint his Resurrection for the council building, as a reminder that good judgement and truth was encouraged. It is therefore likely that his faith was believed to be orthodox and that his lifestyle and practices were conventional, churchgoing and free from scandal.
Piero’s representations of Christ are the key theme of his all his extant works. Even in the Arezzo frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross, where Christ is not represented, his crucifixion is the central focus of the story and his incarnation is alluded to in the Annunciation scene.
Paintings of the infant and child Jesus are included in:
The Montefeltro Altarpiece, Brera Milan
The Nativity / Adoration of the Child; London: National Gallery.
The Senigallia Madonna, Urbino, National Gallery of the Marches 1470 Painted for the Duke of Urbino.
Madonna and Child, Florence: Contini Bonacossi Collection c1440
Madonna and Child, part of Sant’ Antonio Altarpiece, Perugia. National Gallery of Umbria 1460
Willamstown Madonna and Child with Four Angels c1465
Piero’s images of the Christ-child are rarely idealised. He is never painted as a weak infant but is usually fairly robust, and hardly a beautiful or cute infant. At the time of high infant mortality, to depict a weak child might not have inspired confidence in Christ’s saving ability. Many babies were depicted as stronger than infants today, to emphasise their ability to thrive. In the Montefeltro Altarpiece the sleeping or dead infant’s appearance foretells his sacrifice and his coral necklace symbolises the shedding of his blood, which will being healing. In the Senigalia Madonna and the Williamstown Madonna and Child, he displays his strength in the form of the wisdom of a classical scholar or sage. Several symbols are found in Piero’s works that point to the qualities and nature of Jesus, but he is always represented naturalistically as a real child, able to bring a realistic redemption to the world.
Piero’s paintings of the adult Jesus are equally real and relatively unidealised, as represented in:
The Baptism of Christ, London: National Gallery 1448-50
The Flagellation, Urbino, Galeria delle Marche 1455
Crucifixion in the Polyptych of the Misericordia: 1448 Sansepolcro Pinacoteca Communale 1460Crucifixion, Rockerfeller Collection; New York c1460? (possibly from the Polyptych of St. Augustine)
Crucifixion Frick Collection (possibly from the Polyptych of St. Augustine)
Resurrection, Sansepolcro Pinacoteca Communale.
The semi-naked image in all of these is of classic proportions, but never as beautiful, handsome or idealised as in works by Fra Angelico or Perugino. Jesus is well-proportioned in the Baptism and the Resurrection but his humanity is as strong as any emphasis on his special divine nature. In the Baptism he demonstrates his care and identification with humanity. In the Resurrection he has the haunted face of a man who has experienced tortured death then plumbed the world of the dead. Yet in the Resurrection Christ is also represented as strongly muscled, which is probably a metaphor to represent the power that he has to achieve redemption and to be victorious over sin, as implied by the banner that he raises.
Piero’s paintings of the crucifixion are fairly conventional in form and iconography. The Cross is, as usual, attended by Mary and John. Jesus’ musculature on the cross is relatively naturalistic.
Though there are metaphysical indications in the mathematics and geometry behind Piero’s compositions, Jesus is always painted as a physical human being, never as an unnaturally superhuman figure . The care and clarity with which Jesus is portrayed in Piero’s paintings combines with his mathematical and geometrical calculations to indicate that in his special nature divine holiness and our humanity are combined. Piero’s use of light on the figure of Christ also helps to emphasise this. In the Flagellation and the Resurrection he is illuminated from above by an ethereal light coming from a different direction, to supplementing the natural light. In the Resurrection his nature as the risen ‘light of the world; is also emphasised by the dawn rising behind him. Piero also makes references to him in other pictures as the Bread of Life, the source of healing and hope, the teacher of divine wisdom, the redeemer, the one who identifies with us in his suffering and the one who eternally interceded for us on the through of heaven.
PIERO’S REPRESENTATION OF MARY
We are not sure how many paintings of Mary and Jesus Piero produced. Those that survive or have been identified, may only be a small number of those which he created, since Mary was such a significant subject in Italian Catholicism:
Annunciation (from Legend of the True Cross Arezzo) San Francesco. Arezzo 14551467-8
Annunciation, Polyptych of St. Anthony. Perugia, National Gallery of Umbria 1470
Madonna of the Misericordia, Polyptych of the Misericordia, Sansepolcro, Pinacoteca Communale 1460
Madonna del Parto, Monterchi Cemetery Chapel, Arezzo c1460?
The Nativity, National Gallery: London 1470
Senigallia Madonna, Urbino, National Gallery of the Marches 1470 Painted for the Duke of Urbino.
Madonna and Child, Florence: Contini Bonacossi Collection c1440
Madonna and Child, part of Sant’ Antonio Altarpiece, Perugia. National Gallery of Umbria 1460
Montefeltro Altarpiece, Brera, Milan 1472-74
Williamstown Madonna and Child with Four Angels c1465
Piero did not idealise his images of Mary as Fra Angelico and other Italian artists tended to do. He gave her distinct human features and individuality, which may have been derived from a knowledge of Northern European, particularly Flemish work, which was beginning to be collected in courts of Northern Italy. His Marys vary in character and physiognomy between paintings; they are probably not portraits, but show her as different ‘types’, unlike Fra Angelico’s Madonnas, who are often very similar in type. They are rarely as elegant or refined in proportion as those by Fra Angelico and other contemporaries. Piero’s images of Mary are often strong and robust, similar to the images of her child. She appears more like the Renaissance idea of a peasant girl or young working woman than an elegant or gentle noble. This seems to reflect a greater aim at ‘realism’ than the neo-platonic idealism of much Italian Catholic representation of Jesus’ mother. Where Piero developed this idea is uncertain, since he moved in Neoplatonic noble or religious circles. It may come from the emphasis on ministry to real people among the Franciscan and Augustinian friars, among whom he worked, as well as any Northern European art that he had seen, or artists like Justus of Ghent, who he would have known at the Montefeltro court.
In the Misericordia, Polyptych, Madonna del Parto and Arezzo Annunciation in the Legend of the True Cross. Mary appears rather more stately and severe, looking down at the viewer with understanding, perhaps pity. She is matronly and radiates a sense of security. As Piero’s work matured his images of Mary seem to have gradually developed to look more youthful and peasant-like, while still seeming matronly. The Madonna of Senigallia is young, radiating a certain peace and innocence, yet she is also physically mature and seems strong enough to look after both her child and the needs of her devotees. The Montefeltro Altarpiece the Madonna is far more stately as befits her enthronement as protector and example for the Church. Her prayers for the world seem directed though her sleeping, or some suggest ‘dead’, child who lies across her lap, almost more like a two-dimenional vision than a three dimensional weighty infant. In the Nativity in the National Gallery, London, Mary is slimmer and more idealised in proportions than most Renaissance Madonnas; she closer to the image of ideal Platonic proportions. Yet she is still not an idealised beauty: Mary is young, slight, fairly drained and pale. She has the raised, plaited hair of a Renaissance lady, fairly close in style to that of the deceased Battista Sforza in the double portrait of Montefeltro and his wife. Only the early Conti Bonacossi Collection Madonna does Mary smile, though in the Williamstown Madonna with Child Enthroned between Angels she has a very slight smile. Very few faces in any of Piero’s figures ever seem to hold a smile, which may suggest the seriousness with which he regarded his saintly subjects. If there is a joy expressed in Piero’s paintings it is probably an inner, spiritual joy, as in the Annunciation of the Polyptych of Sant’ Anthony in Perugia. There is an intense seriousness in the majority of Piero’s work.
Piero flanked the Madonna del Parto with a serious pair of angels who reveal, or unveil to the viewer her mystery and caring role. The image is almost akin to the opening of a tabernacle or the veneration of a monstrance, as Mary is presented as the tabernacle for Christ. In the Montefeltro Altarpiece she is closer to the representations of Mary as the Queen of Heaven and intercessor for the Church. The angels in the Senagallia Madonna and the Williamstown Madonna are far more real companions, almost like human guardians of Mary and the onlooker in their domestic setting. They reflect the domesticity and naturalness of the painting of Mary herself. This adds to the sense that in Christ God truly took on human form and lived among us as one of us, so is able to understand our predicaments. The depiction of Mary and her heavenly companions helps to emphasise this domestic care by showing them as far less idealised than in much sacred art of the time.
PIERO’S PAINTINGS OF SAINTS
With Mary, the depiction of saints in Piero’s paintings appears to convey a balance between humanity, spiritual quietness and a holy separation of emotion which distinguishes them from ordinary human beings. This is also a feature of his depictions of Christ. Many of Piero’s paintings of saints have a distinctive monumentality that makes them feel strong and spiritually sincere This is not just due to their size or iconic status as important figures in an altarpiece like the St Augustine Polyptych or the fresco of Mary Magdalene. Even smaller images like the two devotional paintings of St. Jerome convey the saint’s sincerity and spiritual focus. In both figures of Jerome there is an intimacy of religious feeling in that is rather different from the secular figure of the worshipper kneeling before him in the Venice panel. Similarly in the Flagellation the small figure of Christ in the middle-distance is a very different in feeling from the three large figures. I may be reading this into the pictures, but I don’t think so. It seems as though Piero treated the depiction of his saints with a sensitivity towards conveying the holiness and individuality of their natures and spiritual status. His secular figures like Federico Montefeltro and his wife, Sigismondo Malatesta or the secular participants in his religious scenes are painted with no less care and often they have a similar monumentality, particularly in the Legend of the True Cross frescoes. But I wonder if Piero felt a different sense of spiritual responsibility in depicting the saints or the religious events in compositions, which may have filtered into and been conveyed in the feeling and details of his paintings.
If this was so, I can understand it. When I paint religious themes I always feel a tremendous sense of my sacred responsibility in creating an image that gives due reverence to its subject and conveys its meaning. During the three years of painting the Gloucester Cathedral Lady Chapel triptych I sensed that I was undertaking sacred work and my whole behaviour around the studio felt as though it needed to be holy and devoted. For a Christian artist one of the highest things one can do is paint sacred subjects. If one is creating an altarpiece, or any work which one prays will be a catalyst to inspire devotion to its subject, the sense of one’s own devotion to what one is depicting is heightened. This responsibility was probably taken even more seriously by many in late mediaeval and Renaissance times than in our more secularised contemporary art-world, since superstition as well as sincere devotion was more widespread. Piero was busy with many commissions, and presumably worked in an active workshop surrounded by several assistants and allied distractions. However, we know from documentation that he was commissioned to do much of the painting on his altarpieces with his own hands. Assistants may have done much of the preparation, initial pouncing of cartoons, drawing in and underpainting of many of his works. But the artists are most involved in refining the feeling that their art expresses during the initial refinements in designing and drawing out the cartoons, then during the later period of concentration on perfecting the finish, expressions, gestures and emotive effects in a work. When one is concentrating on perfecting the emotional or devotional effects in a painting one is usually deaf and blind to other distractions and focusing one’s spiritual sensitivity fully on the what one is painting.
The extreme detail which Piero put into the painting of a figure like St. Augustine in the polyptych seems to suggest that Piero was working with that intensity of concentration. The detail of Piero’s focus was not just in the finely embroidered cope, but in his facial expression and the clarity of his meaning conveyed by gestures, even though his hands are covered by bejewelled and embroidered gloves. The gestures of the saints in the Montefeltro Altarpiece are equally carefully considered and refined, as are the poses of the hands of the Senegallia and Williamstown Madonnas.
Piero’s paintings of saints reach a similar level of emotional feeling and humanity to Donatello’s achievements in sculpture. Both convey monumentality and serenity, while creating figures that are real human beings, with both a sense of spiritual detachment and an understanding of the nature of being human. This encourages us to feel that the saints could understand our situation and our condition. Their holiness and devotion may distinguish and slightly separate them from us, yet they know what it is like to be like us. Piero’s saints are represented as strong, confident, and spiritually committed. For devotees who used Piero’s images as a focus of prayer the artist created figures who were realistic examples and models to follow, and strong enough to be able to offer their support.
INTRODUCTION
Piero della Francesca does not seem at first the most obvious Renaissance artist to choose choice for spiritual contemplation. The works of Fra Angelico and Donatello look as though they contain more sensitive humanity, Michelangelo more vigorous emotion, Giotto and Duccio more simple Christian narrative content, Bellini more obvious warm, contemplative feeling. Piero by contrast seems slightly more cold, austere, cerebral and intellectual; he was rigorous and methodical in his art. But his work has a magnetic and hypnotic quality that often draws us into examining it. Viewing his paintings has often made me want to explore deeper and discover the mysteries and ideas within them. For me this is especially true of the Resurrection, Baptism, Nativity and Senigallia Madonna. If one’s spirituality includes devotion to Mary the Madonna del Parto and Polyptych of the Misericordia would be included. The meaning of Piero’s art is not as easily explicable or visible on the surface as some other images designed for devotion. As with Christian spirituality itself, there always seems something just beyond your grasp. Perhaps Piero’s art could be is closer to the apathatic aspect of spirituality than more accessible narrative Christian art or more obviously sentimental devotional images.
Piero worked for a variety of secular patrons with intellectual aspirations, and foundations of different religious orders. All of these had a variety of spiritual, material and political backgrounds or agenda. So the ideas in his work often reflected those as well as his own intellect and spirituality. He approached his work with intellectual rigour transforming the intentions of his patrons into his work. As a result he possibly reflects the overall spirituality of his age more than many other Italian Renaissance artists of his generation.
Artists throughout time have conveyed spiritual content and meaning in a plethora of ways. Renaissance religious art suggests aspects of spirituality in a wide variety of ways, including:
Choice of subjects, which was usually the decision of those commissioning the work and their advisors.
Telling a story (Giotto, Duccio, Gaddi);
Making a spiritual scene seem physically real (Giotto, Masaccio, Mantegna, Caravaggio, Donatello);
Elegance of line, form and colour (Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Perugino, Raphael);
Heroic monumentality (Masaccio, Uccello, Michelangelo);
A sense of setting the work in an ancient classical past (Mantegna, Pisanello) ;
Use of multiple visual symbols (Botticelli, Crivelli, Carpaccio);
Use of classical allegory to represent spiritual ideas (Botticelli, Mantegna);
Extreme realism (Leonardo, Caravaggio);
Elongation to make figures seem more spiritual (Late Michelangelo and Mannerism);
Mystery of light and chiaroscuro (Leonardo, Caravaggio);
Humanity and psychological insight into characters (Donatello);
Symbolism of colour and form (Duccio, Masaccio, Botticelli, Michelangelo).
Most artists used a combination of many of these and more; Piero della Francesca employed most of them. Like all of these mentioned above, there is an individuality about his work, which captures certain essences of spirituality, and this is what I intend to explore in this study. His figures often have a supra-real monumentality and static dignity of gesture, which make them appear more than simply human. His compositions are so carefully arranged that the scenes seem designed to convey significance. The precision of geometry and mathematics in composition and form also suggests that the underlying structure of his compositions is intentionally significant. He fused a fascination with mathematics, optics and linear perspective with classical thinking and the religious understanding of his time. His colours are often restrained, quiet, elegant and carefully balanced, encouraging contemplation of the image. His settings make the scene seem to be set in his contemporary environment, yet the subjects are seen through a visionary and historic lens.
Normally art-historians spend time rightly researching the attribution, context, symbolism, style influences and many other aspects of a work in order to analyse and understand it. I attempt to do that in this study. Yet in the case of the majority of Piero’s work, few precise facts are agreed upon by his many commentators. Even the dates, chronology, original owners or patrons of many of the paintings, or their original intention and setting are uncertain. So it is hard to be completely sure of facts when one analyses them. Different scholars have disagreed broadly over attribution, date, iconography and interpretation for about one and a half centuries, since Piero began to be rediscovered after centuries of obscurity. New documentation may still be discovered in Renaissance archives but much that has been uncovered so far often raises many questions, as well as presenting a few new details. To interpret Piero’s paintings often entails recognising that several potential contexts and meanings are possible. It is frequently necessary to not over-stress or affirm one precise reading in order to appreciate and comprehend other possible aspects of the work, just in case the interpretation is incorrect. A similar attitude should apply to spiritual contemplation of the works. One should keep in mind their possible contexts, history and intention, yet reach beyond these to try to find how they might speak to us today.
In this long study, I intend to attempt to draw-together and clarify the various interpretations and suggestions that have been offered by scholarship. But I will also suggest ways to combine or reach through the various contexts to explore their meaning for the modern contemplative. Authentic spirituality and a true approach to God must be made via an attempt at truth. If we are seeking God we must apply honesty and truth. However, in cases where we cannot be absolutely certain of what is true we can often approach truth by applying reason and intuition carefully. This is how we often approach reading scripture, attempting to comprehend aspects of God, assessing facts and traditions and experiences within faith, despite all the mysteries. There are no empirical proofs for Christian belief, spirituality, or even for interpreting past history. Our knowledge of most things, including science, is fragmentary. If we needed to be certain of all things before we felt we could learn from and through them, we might never believe or rely on many things. We interpret the mysteries in art in similar ways to approaching scripture and faith:
learning from looking at it carefully;
exploring its subject and any narrative;
thinking through any symbols contained within it;
formally analysing what we are reading, thinking or seeing,
examining its history and the traditions behind it;
imagining what it might have meant to the artist, patrons, and those viewing or using it in the artist’s time,
examining how it has been interpreted since etc.
applying reason;
applying our creative imagination to fill in gaps in knowledge;
using our former experience an intuition;
responding with our feelings and sensitivity;
applying the meanings we find, or the senses we feel to contemporary understanding and our present situation.
Ultimately, however, what a work of art comes to mean to us often depends largely on the initial feeling that attracted us to stop and look at it, and how certain aspects that we discover in it stimulate our thoughts or implant themselves in our memories. Intuitive responses to both art and spirituality can be true. It is possible for them to become even more significant than reasoned ones. We should always aim to be true in our interpretation rather than travel into realms of fantasy. Truth requires us to approach a work by applying reason and understanding traditions as well as using our intuition, imagination and experience broadly.
PIERO’S LIFE
Not many certain facts about Piero are known, despite a number of documents relating to him having been unearthed since the search for details about him began in the late 19th Century. Piero’s biography is almost as full of questions as his paintings are full of mysteries. His life, movements and work on commissions have been pieced together mostly from references in legal documents and the traditions relating to his few extant works. These comprise about 16 painted commissions and three treatises, which contain no personal references. Vasari’s details about Piero’s life in the second edition of Lives of the Artists are often vague. Although he and Piero came from the same town and he must have known his works there at first hand, Vasari’s primary aim was to champion Florentine art, of which he considered Michelangelo’s creativity the divinely inspired pinnacle. This may be why Vasari downplayed the achievements of Piero in all but geometry and mathematics. Vasari attributed inventions in perspective more to Uccello’s work in Florence and the move towards realism to Masaccio and Donatello, while regarding Piero’s style as rather primitive by comparison.
Piero was probably born at Borgo San Sepolcro near Arezzo (now called ‘Sansepolcro’); he certainly regarded it as his hometown. The consensus of critical opinion has been that his birth was sometime between 1415 and 1420. Vasari dates his birth as 1406 and others calculate that it may have been about 1410. If he was born c1410 that would allow more time for him to have become established as a trained painter before he was first recorded as working alongside the relatively minor artist Antonio d’Anghiari in Borgo San Sepolchro in 1422 (unless Antonio was his teacher). He may have trained under Antonio while he was working in San Sepolcro before working with, or being apprenticed to Domenico Veneziano in Florence c.1435. (Domenico is recorded as having been assisted by a ‘Pietro di Benedetto dal Borgo a San Sepolcro’ in records of the Sant’ Egidio choir frescoes for Santa Maria Nuova, Florence in 1439, and this reference is presumed to be to Piero della Francesca.)
Borgo San Sepolcro, about 70 miles from Florence, had about 4,000 inhabitants at the time of Piero’s birth. It only became a city in the C16th. The Upper Tiber Valley itself, in which the town sits, is beautiful, and is seen in the background of several of Piero’s paintings. The city was legendarily founded by Saints Arcano and Aegidius (Egidio) who were supposed to have brought back to Italy a stone from the sepulchre of Christ, after which to town gained its name. Legend told that Arcano and Aegidius were guided to a clearing where it became clear that they should found a religious settlement. The stone was set in a religious relic around which a monastery developed, which became a site for pilgrimage. Around this the town developed and gained wealth not just through pilgrimage but its links with Florence and its surrounding state, (though it was hostile to Florentine political dominance and rebelled against it). Borgo San Sepolcro was at a crossroads in the Upper Tiber Valley on busy trade routes which ran through Tuscany and the Apennines to the Adriatic ports. The town developed a strong religious tradition, partly through housing the relic of the rock of Jesus’ tomb, and becoming a popular place of pilgrimage. But also because a number of religious figures became associated with the place. The town claimed to have been Christian from its foundation and was called by some a ‘New Jerusalem’ and a holy site, since the two founding saints were legendarily supposed to have been told in a dream that this clearing, in a wooded landscape, was the place, to found the shrine for their relic. St Francis was also believed to have received a vision outside the walls of the town and other saints and significant religious figures (mentioned later in this study) were closely related to Borgo San Sepolcro.
Piero’s father Benedetto de’Franceschi was originally recorded as a leather-merchant, a trade which may have included a shoemaking and leather-dressing. He raised his family’s status through buying and selling fine leather goods and trading in plant dyes. Merchants like Piero’s father did not necessarily specialise, but often offered a variety of services, including repair, manufacture and provision of materials for artisans. His family the Francesci (also sometimes referred to in documents as Francesca) also became dyers, harvesting ‘guado’ / ‘dyer’s rocket’ which was ground and formed into cakes produced indigo for dying cloth, a local industry controlled by Florence. Their home since the mid-1300s had been within the walls of the town, in the Via Borgo Nuova. It is thought that Piero was the eldest son of his mother Romana di Perino da Monterchi. He had three surviving brothers (one illegitimate); two became merchants and one became a Camaldolesian Friar. His mother had lost two other sons in infancy. His one sister married a classical scholar. The Camaldolese were the most influential religious order in Borgo San Sepolcro at the time, with several confraternities and it is probable that Piero was later associated with one, which commissioned work from him. Confraternities consisted of clerical and lay members who shared spiritual commitments, met together for teaching and worship, often in their own chapels in the church with which they were associated, and were committed to works of charity and support of the church. Piero himself is not recorded as ever having married.
Wealthy families usually sent their sons to church schools or Latin schools; merchants often sent their sons to ‘abacus schools’, primarily non-religious educational establishments, which taught the commercial side of mathematics. Borgo San Sepolchro may not have had a permanent abacus teacher at the time, but relied on itinerant teachers. Piero’s education seems to have been primarily in mathematics before turning to painting; he certainly grew to love and develop it in his treatises. Though several of his paintings contain Latin inscriptions, it is not thought that he mastered Latin to any great extent, as his treatises were translated into Latin by others, from originals which he wrote in the vernacular. Piero’s sister married a ‘Master of Grammar’, Francesco Rigi del Borgo and by the end of his life Piero’s treatises used Latin more frequently, which could be due to his influence. We do not know with whom Piero gained his significant training in mathematics. Through his second cousin in the Vatican he may have later acquired a copy of Companus of Novara’s mid C13th translation of Euclid, which he quotes in his treatises, and a copy of Archimedes geometrical works. Borgo San Sepolcro produced several famous mathematicians like Luca Pacioli (who collaborated with Piero at a later date in Urbino) and Franco di Benedetto Cereo.
According to Vasari, Piero turned to painting at about the age of 15. Prior to this he probably helped in his father’s merchant business while learning at abacus school. Through the art materials sold as part of his father’s business he may have encountered artists who influenced his decision to become apprenticed to a painter. The town is registered as having two goldsmiths, but no artist s’ guild. We do not know where Piero trained to become an artist. Perugia in Umbria and Urbino in the Marches (where Gentile da Fabriano died in 1427) would have been the closest obvious centres. In 1432 Piero is recorded as working with the painter Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, but historians are unsure whether he was an already trained artist or Antonio was his master. Artistic apprenticeships lasted many years so he may still have been training at the time, or just expanding his experience through working alongside a more experienced artist.
1430 was a key date in Piero’s home town of Borgo San Sepolcro. Its rulers for over a century had been the Malatesta family from Rimini, who had walled and fortified the town. In 1430 they lost control of the town to the Pope, Eugenius IV, who had defeated the Malatestas. This brought Piero and the painter Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, commissions to paint papal arms to be displayed on the gates of the city and processional flags. By 1442 the Pope had handed Borgo San Sepolcro on to be governed by Florence, as part of his payment for the expenses of the Council of Florence. The reforming Camaldolese order to which Piero’s brother belonged and was an abbot between 1428 and 1448 would have been happy with neither the overlord-ship of the Pope nor humanist Florence.
June 1431 is the recorded date of Piero’s first small commission. He painted a candle and candle holder for the Confraternity of Maria della Notte, for the Corpus Christi procession in Borgo San Sepolcro. This was a good time to be setting up as a painter. The rise of the middle classes, including merchants and bankers, meant a rise in patronage and the commissioning of artefacts for the home and as gifts for churches. As a locally known artist in a town without a painters’ guild, Piero would have been expected to be able to turn his hand to designing anything from objects to be carried in processions, furnishings, objects for use in the home or church, or painting and sculpture.
1432 Piero, at approximately the age of 17-21, was working with the older painter Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, since in 1433 Antonio paid Piero’s father Benedetto 56 florins for Piero’s work up to June of the previous year. If Piero had been apprenticed to Antonio at the time, Piero’s father would more likely have been paying Antonio apprenticeship fees, rather than being paid. If Piero was at an age where he was now trained, this may have been the start of his work as a professional painter, as a few historians suggest. Others conjecture that Benedetto been loaning money for the purchase of materials for work on the huge polyptych altarpiece for the main altar of St Francis’ Church in Borgo San Sepolcro. Whether painter or apprentice, as Piero was still relatively new to the profession at this date, it is probable that he was only doing the less important work of preparing panels, applying layers of gesso, grinding and mixing paints etc., pouncing or drawing out the composition from the master’s cartoons, or entrusted with painting simple parts of the commission. This was a long commission; in 1430 Antonio had been paid by the Franciscans to begin the work. As there was no master painter living in Borgo San Sepolcro at the time the friars had probably called in Antonio, whose town was about 5 miles south of Borgo San Sepolchro on the route to Florence. Antonio had moved his large family to Borgo San Sepolcro in 1430 and received several commissions from other local patrons: first coats of arms of Pope Martin V for the city gates, followed later by the arms of Eugenius, flags and banners for the civic festival, a mural of the ‘Seven Labours of Mercy’ for the façade of the headquarters of the Confraternity of San Bartolomeo, decorations for the chapel of the Confraternity of Sant Antonio and the façade of their Palazzo Laudi. He may have employed the recently trained Piero as an assistant in his workshop, to help with these burgeoning commissions. Whatever the case, Piero would have learned much by working alongside the more experienced artist. But Antonio had overstretched himself. He failed to put sufficient work into the commission for the Franciscan polyptych, for which he had originally been paid, and was thrown off the commission in 1437, moving on with his family to settle in Arezzo. The Franciscan commission was eventually taken over and completed by Sassetta.
c 1437-8 With the end of his work with Antonio d’Anghiari, it is thought that Piero travelled to or moved to Perugia where he came under the influence of Domenico Veneziano (Domenico di Bartolo) with whom he worked for the Baglioni family on now-lost frescoes and a triptych for Santa Giulia.
1439 Piero was in Florence working with Domenico on frescoes of the Life of Mary in the chapel of Sant’Egidio, for the hospital of Santa Maria Nuova, Work on these had begun early in 1439. The records of Santa Maria Novella provide the earliest precise date for Piero, as on Sept, 7th 1439 records of payment to Domenico include the words “Piero di Benedetto from Borgo San Sepolcro is with him.” However Piero’s involvement in the commission was replaced by the more established painter Bicci di Lorenzo. This date was a week before the end of the Council of Florence, so Piero would have seen the large contingent of Greek clerics in the city, perhaps even the Greek Patriarch Joseph and the Byzantine Emperor John VIII. Their costumes are found in several of Piero’s later pictures.
1440 Borgo San Sepolcro sided with the Milanese forces when they passed through the Upper Tiber Valley on the way to Florence and attacked the Florentine and papal forces near Anghiari. Their attack was routed (as represented in Leonardo’s lost Florentine mural of the Battle of Anghiari). After this Florence and the Pope became more suspicious of the town and opposed Borgo San Sepolcro. Its leaders were held as political prisoners. This began a commercial decline in the city after a prosperous period in the 1430s. This may be one reason why Piero moved north from Borgo San Sepolcro for large parts of his career during the next 15 years.
1441 The Pope gave Borgo San Sepolcro to Florence as part of his payment of 2,500 ducats for the Council of Florence. The town became a vassal of Florence.
1442 Piero was back in Borgo San Sepolcro, where he is recorded as a ‘citizen’, which meant that he was among three hundred men eligible to perform official tasks, sit on the town’s popular council or act as a civic magistrate.
1445 The contract for the Polyptych of the Misericordia was drawn up. This was Piero’s first dated major commission. It was a large altarpiece for the chapel of the Confraternity of the Misericordia of Borgo San Sepolcro. The contract was due to be finished by 1448, but it overran by about 17 years (to 1462) because Piero moved off to various commissions for important patrons elsewhere and left much of the work to assistants. This caused frustration for the Confraternity but the delay was also due to the patrons being notoriously slow in payment.
1445-50 Piero was working in Ferrara and the Marches.
1447 Piero he was working with Domenico Veneziano on the Sacristy of the Loreto Sanctuary Church but plague cut short the commission.
1448 He was called to Arezzo to help complete the frescos of the Legend of the True Cross in the Church of San Francesco as Bicci di Lorenzo had been taken ill. Bicci had been commissioned in 1447 to paint the frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross, perhaps to encourage pilgrimage to Arezzo in readiness for the Jubilee Year in 1450.
c1445-1448 Piero probably first developed links with Federico II da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino. Around this time his work was beginning to be known by courts around Italy, including Mantua, Ferrara, Urbino, Ferrara and Rimini.
Between 1448 and 1450 or soon after, he was working in Ferrara. Vasari claims that Piero worked on frescoes for Borso d’Este (Estense Castle) at Ferrara, but these had been demolished by the time Vasari wrote. The Ferrara court was in a period of change, with the rise of a new leader. In Ferrara Piero also received commissions for Sant’Antonio Church from Lionello d’Este. In Ferrara he may well have seen Rogier van der Weyden’s Deposition with its significant gestures and learned from the techniques of realism in Northern European art, which was beginning to be popular in Northern Italian collections. He would also have encountered the work of Alberti, Niccolò Baroncelli, Antonio di Christofano and the Sienese painter Andrea Maccagnino, even possibly Jacopo Bellini. Some critics believe that Leon Battista Alberti may have introduced the work of Piero to Federico II and may have been the artist’s guarantor. The scholarly atmosphere of the Ferrara court had influenced Alberti’s writing of his treatise on the art of building, so it may have also influenced Piero’s writing of his Treatise on the Abacus. The treatise was however dedicated to the Pici family of Borgo San Sepolcro, who commissioned the Polyptych of the Misericordia.
c1450 Piero produced his Treatise on the Abacus.
1450 Piero’s first definitely dateable painting, the small Berlin St Jerome in Penitence.
1450 was a Jubilee Year for the Church and it is thought that Piero may have visited Rome for the Jubilee, though probably not for work. There he would have encountered Ancient Roman statuary and architecture first hand, rather than through its copyists in Florence, Perugia and elsewhere
1451 He moved to Rimini to work for Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta. The Gothic church of San Francesco was being renovated to a more classical design following the fashionable aspirations of the Malatesta family. He painted the fresco of Sigismondo Malatesta Kneeling Before St. Sigismond and later a portrait panel of Sigismondo.
About the same year he may have been working on the central panel of the Baptism for a triptych.
1452 He returned to Arezzo to complete work on the frescoes of San Francesco and the choir ceiling decorations, as Bicci di Lorenzo’s illness, then death in 1452 had left it unfinished. Piero completed the frescos in about 1455. Piero at this time had almost completed the first stage of the Polyptych of the Misericordia and may have also been working on the Baptism.
1454 Commission for the Polyptych of St. Augustine, 4th October, on which Piero worked from c1460-69.
1455 Piero was recalled to Borgo San Sepolcro to complete work on the Polyptych of the Misericordia.
c1455 Flagellation of Christ.
c.Autumn 1458 to late 1459 Taking a break from his commissions in Arezzo and Borgo San Sepolchro, Piero travelled to Rome to work on frescoes in Santa Maria Maggiore and rooms for Pope Pius II. (Pius II was elected on 19th August 1458). By this time Piero had his most talented assistant working with him, Signorelli, and probably took him with him to Rome. Rome was now more stable after the return of the Papacy and was encouraging increased artistic patronage. The call to the papal court may have been influenced by Francesco da Borgo (also known as Francesco da Benedetto Bigi), Piero’s second cousin once removed who was a clerical scholar and architect working in the Vatican. (Later, in 1468, Francesco fell out of favour and was executed for stealing from the papacy). Also among the papal circle was member of the Bicci family, who sponsored the Arezzo frescoes. Pius II was a poet who supported humanist scholarship and promoted classical culture, including the translation of Greek scientific texts. We are unsure of Piero’s work in the Vatican as Pope Julius II had one room transformed into the Stanza d’Eliodoro, redecorated by Raphael sixty years later. In Santa Maria Maggiore Piero produced ceiling frescoes of the four evangelists, though only St. Luke survives. He experimented with an innovative harder and smoother form of plaster, made with a paste of pulverised marble, to help him paint in greater detail.
1459 Piero returned to San Sepolcro after hearing of his mother’s death on 6th November. He probably left assistants to complete his work in Rome, as he does not appear to have returned there.
On his return from Rome, and perhaps influenced by his movement in humanist circles there, Piero worked on his second treatise ‘On Perspective for Painting’ / ‘De Prospectiva Pigendi’.
c1460 or c.8 years earlier Portrait of Sigismondo Malatesta
1460ff Polyptych of St. Augustine
1464 Small payment from the Confraternity of the Misericordia, Borgo San Sepolcro.
1464 His father died and Piero and his brother Marco settled the family property.
1466 Contract for an Annunciation Banner for Arezzo.
1468 When Plague hit San Sepolcro Piero moved to the village of Bastia, five miles away, where his family owned property. It delayed some of his large projects but there he completed the banner of a supposed ‘plague saint’ commissioned for an Arezzo confraternity and probably completed the St. Augustine Polyptych,
1469 Final payment for St Augustine Polyptych.
1469 Piero lodged in Urbino with the painter Giovanni Santi, father of Raphael (born 14 years later in 1483). It is thought that Piero was originally called to work on an altarpiece that had been started by Paolo Uccello, who had only completed the predella panels, However the altarpiece was completed by the Flemish artist Justus of Ghent. Instead, Piero became involved in several projects for the ducal court of Federico da Montefeltro. From about 1468 the Palazzo Ducale underwent much architectural remodelling and redecoration to reflect Federico’s increasing status and aspirations. Piero may have been involved in advising on this with other intellectual members of the court. Piero was to remain in contact with the Montefeltro court for many years. In 1472, Piero was commissioned to paint the Uffizi Diptych, a oil double portrait of the duke, (in his 50s) and his wife Battista of the Milanese house of Sforza (age 29) who had recently died after giving birth to her 9th child Guidobaldo. He may have used as models her death-mask or a marble sculpture. Federico and Battista are painted in profile, partly to resemble ancient coins and renaissance medallions, but also because Frederico had lost an eye in a jousting tournament 22 years earlier. On the reverse of the panels he painted an allegorical Triumph procession, based on Petrarch. They are accompanied on their chariots by the Virtues. Federico rides with the four Cardinal Virtues: Justice, Prudence, Fortitude and Temperance; Battista is accompanied by the three Theological Virtues: Faith, Hope and Charity. Federico then commissioned the Montefeltro Altarpiece, which is thought to have been intended for the prince’s tomb.
c1469-4 Montefeltro Altarpiece.
c1470 Piero dedicated his Treatise on Perspective to Federico da Montefeltro.
c1472 Piero was back in Borgo, as he was a member of a commission appointing a doctor for the Borgo San Sepolcro commune.
c1472 Nativity for the Franceschi Chapel in Borgo San Sepolcro Duomo.
1474 Fresco for Madonna Contessina in a Badia chapel (now lost).
He was also a member of a committee responsible for the fortifications of Borgo San Sepolcro
1474 f. He and his brother Marco begin to purchase land, probably as a form of family security. Marco may have acted as an agent for Piero, perhaps taking over from his father.
1475 Polyptych of St. Anthony.
1475-8 Senegallia Madonna
1475 Piero was elected as a community councillor in Borgo San Sepolcro.
1478 Payment to Piero for an exterior fresco of the Misericordia (unknown)
.
1480. 1481, 1482 Piero was a member and prior of the Confraternity of the Priors of St. Bartholomew.
1482 Rented a house in Rimini.
After 1482 Sometime after the completion of the Montefeltro Altarpiece Piero had begun his third treatise: ‘The Little Book on Five Regular Solids’ / ‘Libellus de Quinque Corporibus Regularibus’, perhaps encouraged by the scholar Ottaviano Ubaldini and regent to Federico’s young son Guidobaldo. In 1482 Federico died and was succeeded by Guidobaldo, to whom the work was dedicated, with the request that it be places with his Treatise on Perspective in the Montefeltro library/.
1487 Piero’s will was signed and dated.
By the end of his life he may have lost his sight as Vasari and a few other documents suggest, though Vasari seems to have exaggerated the early onset of his blindness, as he was writing clearly at the age of seventy-five.
1493 Piero must have returned to Borgo San Sepolcro as he died there in 1493 on 12th October and was buried in the family chapel in the Badia.
1494 The Sansepolcro-born mathematician Luca Pacioli, who had worked on mathematics alongside Piero at the Montefeltro court, published large sections of Piero’s Treatise on the Abacus and the whole of Piero’s ‘Libellus de Quinque Corporibus Regularibus’ under his own name as ‘Summa arithmetica’. He did the same with Piero’s Treatise on Perspective as ‘Divina proportione’ in 1509. Leonardo da Vinci provided the drawings for some of the woodcut illustrations.
PIERO’S RELIGIOUS CONTACTS.
Although Piero produced much work for churches, his spiritual and philosophical ideas probably developed as much through his secular as his ecclesiastical patrons. Due to the divisions in the papacy early in his career, much of the development of theological and philosophical thought had developed within secular courts. As humanist learning advanced it was discussed and expanded through the scholars and advisors in the circles of nobles. Much advanced thinking occurred in these groups and secular court libraries collected significant ancient classical and recent manuscripts. The taste for collecting artworks, artefacts and literature also expanded, often through rivalry for prestige between different courts. Moving between the various families of Borgo San Sepolcro, Urbino, Rimini, Ferrara, Padua and Rome for commissions, Piero would have gleaned understanding of philosophy and theology from a broad range of thinkers and various perspectives, which became focused into his work.
Early in his career in Florence at the time of the Council of Florence in 1439 Piero would have seen a wide variety of clerics from different parts of Christendom, as well as encountering the many established religious houses and monasteries un the city which were commissioning artworks from a burgeoning number of artist’s workshops. (The Council of Florence is also sometimes known as the Council of Ferrara, as it began there but felt forced to move after military and political threats.) The Council’s negotiations were attempting to reconcile the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic Church. This ultimately failed in many of its aims, but it encouraged greater understanding of the theological viewpoints and discussion of the sources and traditions with divided them doctrinally and politically. Piero would have seen richly robed Greek clerics processing through the streets, particularly on religious feast days. Some believed that the style of the Greeks’ robes dated back to biblical times, hence Piero’s inclusion of them among the figures in the Baptism of Christ and the Flagellation. Florence underwent a revival of Greek cultural influence at the time and in the years that followed. The Florentine friar Ambrogio Traversari, head of the Camaldolese order, to which Piero’s brother belonged, had been creating the first translations of the works of the Greek Fathers. This greatly influenced the development of Renaissance theological thinking. (I have discussed his influence on Fra Angelico in my study of that artist on my website). At the time of the Council, Traversari guided several of the Greek visitors through the complexities of western liturgy and traditions, defending some from the bureaucracy and legalism of the authorities of Florence and Rome. Traversari also encouraged the growth of Platonist mysticism, which included Greek ideas about the mystical value of mathematics. While the geometry in Piero’s paintings reflects this esoteric and symbolic use of numbers, proportions and geometrical shapes, his treatises are more practical in their discussions and calculations. As well as Traversari, the scholar Giovanni Tortelli similarly enthused over secular Greek authors like newly discovered works by Sophocles, and discussed the relationship between nature and art in Plato and Aristotle. The contemporary historian Flavio Biondo, who was involved in the planning of the Council and its events, traced links between Greek members of the Council back to Constantine and the founding of the Church. (Piero appears to have adopted this assumption, as he included figures dressed in contemporary Greek robes in his Arezzo cycle of the Legend of the True Cross.)
Through the thinking of his time, Piero imbibed the humanist understanding which was developing among the religious institutions and humanist scholars at the courts for which he worked. (The term humanism as used in the Renaissance is different from the meaning of the term today. Our contemporary use of the word implies the centrality and prioritising of human thinking, secular reasoning and human life over spiritual issues. Renaissance humanism was concerned with the reconciliation of human and spiritual thinking and accepted the validity and links between thinking and religion.) Piero worked in a humanistic atmosphere influenced largely by Neoplatonism in which people were attempting to reconcile Christian theology and thought with Greek philosophy and ancient scientific principles. Plato’s ideas of the soul, transmigration of souls, the forms by which the world and cosmos were created and the spiritual world, were combined with the ideas of many other classical thinkers. Previously unknown ancient manuscripts were being discovered, translated, and applied to Christian belief in an attempt to deepen understanding of the material and spiritual world and the truths that undergirded creation.
The Papal court at the Council of Florence became keen on developing Greek ideas and from 1439 the influence of Platonism on Italian theology grew, as the scholarship devoted to them increased. Many newly discovered Ancient Greek manuscripts were imported into Italian libraries from the Byzantine Empire, and some Greek scholars moved to Italy to teach both the language and Greek thought. The world of reality was considered to consist of both the physical, which can be perceived, and the transcendent, which the senses cannot perceive but which is intelligible with the mind. In Ferrara Piero may have met the Platonist scholar and teacher of Greek Giovanni Aurispa, who collected ancient Greek manuscripts. In Ferrara Piero would also have seen the influence of classicism on the architecture of the city, which was not far from Padua, with its classical ruins. In Urbino, both in the Montefeltro court and the households of other collectors and scholars like Vespasiano da Bisticci, he may have had access to rich libraries of books, as well as meeting figures like Alberti and the architect Laurana,Donato Bramante. His extended stay in the city would have increased his contact with humanist learning.
Mathematics, which fascinated Piero, came to him through the Greek writings and ideas of Euclid, Pythagoras, Archimedes, Plato, Aristotle and others. For the Platonist-influenced theologians, mathematics was believed to be a way of exploring physical and spiritual forces within the complexity of the created world. Piero’s interest in mathematics would not have just been practical. Number was thought by Pythagoras to be a principle and ruler of all the forms and ideas created by the gods. Plato believed that the Creator used numerical proportion, including, the golden ratio, to order the cosmos and design the material world. All the elements of the world were thought to be composed of solid geometric shapes: pyramids, cubes, tetrahedrons, dodecahedrons etc. Certain proportions and geometric shapes were considered more beautiful, satisfying and appropriate. So mathematics was believed to contain mystical meanings, as well as being of practical use in daily life, for counting, calculating, surveying land, designing architecture, ordering materials, as well as laying out the design of buildings, sculptures, panels and paintings. In religious houses (particularly through the teaching of the Franciscans and Dominicans, mathematics was regarded as a ‘divine science’. The Dominican scholar and theologian Antonio Pierozzi who became archbishop of Florence preached about the morality and divine nature of optics. Through often working for Franciscan patrons Piero would have discussed commissions with the intellectual members of the order, as well as other patrons. For all of them the mathematics of his paintings would have increased a sense of the spiritual significance of his works. In the arts, the influence of Greek philosophy led to the belief that our imaginations and the creation of beauty developed from the interaction between the human finite mind and the infinite divine mind.
In Rome, working at the court of Pius II, Piero would have encountered eminent theologians who were significant in the revival of Greek philosophy. Piero’s second cousin once removed. Francesco da Borgo, clerical scholar and architect working in the Vatican was a trusted part of the scholarly court until executed for stealing from the papacy. Francesco had gathered a substantial personal library of classical texts and it may be through him that Piero obtained his copies of Archimedes’ texts. Before becoming a monk, Pius had been a poet laureate who modelled much of his work on classical literature. As Pope he supported humanist scholarship and paid for the translation of Greek scientific texts. He promoted Greek scholars like the German cleric Nicholas de Cusa (Cusanus) and the Greek cleric Basilius Bessarion. Cusanus, a cardinal since 1448, had already been involved in the classical revival in Padua. While Pius was away from Rome at the Council of Mantua, attempting to raise a crusade against the Ottoman Turks, Cusanus, already a leading theologian at the Vatican, was appointed vicar-general of the papal territories. Basilius Bessarion was appointed as dean of the College of Cardinals. Bessarion was appointed as protector of the Franciscan Order and had attempted to unite the Latin and Greek churches at the Council of Florence to combat the threat from the Ottoman Turks in the East. Bessarion also supported the Platonic Academy in Florence. Cusanus, by comparison was suspicious of drawing parallels or gradations between human ideas, imagination and beauty and the divine. He believed that the infinite was beyond such parallels, while recognising that we reflect divine ideas and beauty in our human dimension. He had a keen interest in the arts and spent time discussing with artists, so he may well have talked with Piero while he was working in Rome. Both Cusanus and Bessarion regularly gathered thinkers in various fields to discuss ideas, as well as influencing the stipulations for commissions. Although Piero was probably only an amateur in philosophical circles they seem to have strongly influenced his approach to his subjects and the composition and design of his paintings. Artistic harmony and geometric clarity were thought to be able to reflect or convey a sense of spiritual harmony and the divine principles within the creation of the cosmos.
Piero’s family’s contact with the spirituality of the Camaldolese Order would also have encouraged the intellectual meaning behind his work. Although they were a reforming order, who were inevitably suspicious of pagan aspects within the influence Greek philosophy on Christian theology, they encouraged an intellectual exploration of the world, scripture and spirituality. Traversari defended the truths which were to be found within non-Christian writings. Camaldolese thinking also encouraged Christians to look into nature and look for the presence of the Creator within Creation. This led to a greater emphasis on naturalism within the art commissioned for the order. This may have encouraged the greater naturalism that Piero put into his figures and the details of his landscape backgrounds, as it influenced Filippo Lippi in his ‘Madonna of the Forest.
ARTISTIC INFLUENCES ON PIERO
Bordo San Sepolcro cathedral’s Resurrection Altarpiece was by a Sienese artist, and Sienese art had influenced much of the development of art in the in the town up to Piero’s time. Piero may have visited Siena and seen the work of Lorenzetti, Simone Martini and Duccio. Perugia too was only 40 miles away or Assisi 50 miles south, but essentially the main initial influences on the early development of Piero’s work were probably those he encountered in or through Borgo San Sepolcro. The amount of influence of Antonio di Giovanni d’Anghiari, the first artist with whom Piero is recorded as working in 1431, is debated, as we cannot be sure whether he was apprenticed to him or working with him.
Domenico Veneziano, with whom Piero was working in Florence in 1439, was only a few years older than Piero, so Piero was most probably not his apprentice. He had been born in Venice and trained in Rome, so would have introduced Piero to ideas from wider artistic traditions. In Florence Domenico may have introduced Piero to his own teacher Pisanello who was also in Florence at the time of the Council of Florence. Piero certainly displays some of the realism, attention to detail and references to classical artefacts of Pisanello. In Florence he would also have seen the work of Fra Angelico, Masaccio, Donatello, Ghiberti, and others, including probably Alberti’s treatise on painting. Alberti was also at the Ferrara and Urbino courts during Piero’s time there. Ghiberti apparently introduced him to the names of painters of antiquity, which he later included in his treatise De Prospective Pingendi. Domenico gradually moved from a more International Gothic style to a greater realism, including direct observation from nature and experimentation with the effects of light and colour, which were to become strong in Piero’s work.
In Mathematics, Geometry, Optics and Perspective Piero obviously had contact with the writings of Euclid’s Optics, Alberti On Perspective, which was dedicated to Brunelleschi. He had also seen it in practical use in the works of Masaccio and Ghiberti’s reliefs for the bronze doors of Florence Baptistery, and could have met Alberti, in Florence, Ferrara or Urbino, as they were both there at the same time (1439; the 1440s and 1470 respectively). In Ferrara Alberti was writing his treatise on building: De Re Aedificatoria between 1444 and 1452 under the patronage of Lionello d’Este. He had already published his treatises on Painting and Perspective.
In Ferrara Piero may well have seen the northern work of Rogier van der Weyden whose work was collected in the court from the late 1440s. This may have influenced his use of landscape backgrounds as well as his turn to experiment with oil painting. A few critics even suggest that he may have met Rogier van der Weyden there and observed his techniques, or learned them in another northern workshop, but this seems unlikely. If he know a Northern European artist it is more likely to have been the Flemish artist Justus of Ghent, who worked for the Duke. The use of oil made Piero’s later works more luminous and glossier than his former works. He was early among Italian painters in experimenting with oil painting in the 1450s and 60s. It is found in the finishing of the Misericordia Polyptych and later in his career Piero combined oil with tempera and fresco paintings, using the oil paint to create greater brilliance and luminosity as the final layer of his works. Later in his career Piero used oil exclusively for his portraits and the majority of work on the Montefeltro Altarpiece is in oils. In Urbino Piero may also have seen the works by Jan van Eyck.
Piero’s interest in the use of light was probably influenced by a growing contemporary interest in optics. John Pecham’s Perspectiva Communis was available in Latin, if Piero had a facility in the language, or he could have known of its teaching from the intellectual circles in which he worked. It discussed the science of optics and the behaviour of rays of light. Alberti’s Treatise on Painting had also discussed the effects of light and its variations; it also advocated the depiction of figures in authentic architectural space, which Piero adopted. In his Flagellation, Arezzo frescoes and Montefeltro Altarpiece he developed this to the full, applying the theory of perspective and optics to the creation of settings based on the architecture of cities like Perugia and Ferrara. He also incorporated ideas of the ‘ideal city’ which were developing in both architecture and the art of creating a political and social utopia.
CHARACTERISTICS OF PIERO’S STYLE
Piero worked for a wide variety of different patrons, so the spiritual meaning in the works probably reflects the particular spirituality of the various people or institutions commissioning the works, rather than simply Piero’s own approach to his subjects. However, there is a harmony in his work and in the spirituality which the paintings evoke, which suggest that Piero had assimilated the requirements of the patrons with his own intellectual and spiritual understanding. The variety of his approaches to the patrons’ requirements is most apparent in private commissions like the frescoes for Sigismondo in Rimini, the Montefeltro Altarpiece, the Senegallia Madonna and probably the Flagellation as well as more institutional commissions like the Legend of the True Cross and his polyptyches. In each of these works the character or preoccupation of another seem to be influences on the new ways that Piero chose to represent traditional subjects. In his altarpieces the characteristics of the religious order commissioning the work undoubtedly influenced the choice of subjects, but also the ways in which they are represented. Franciscan politics and the local secular families financing the work influenced the frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross and the saints chosen for the Altarpiece of the Misericordia. The elaborate liturgical and teaching ideas of the Augustinians influenced the splendour of the St. Augustine Polyptych, though only a few panels survive. The love of nature of the Camaldolese, and their interest in the healing and spiritual qualities in plants probably influenced the naturalism of the detail in the plants of the Baptism of Christ. Piero combined understanding of these and many other characteristics with his own personal intellectual rigour and care of execution to create the peaceful monumentality and spiritual reflection in his works.
There is a quietness, harmony and confidence in Piero’s work, which links it to Alberti’s conception of beauty and harmony in the unity, variety and balance of elements in a picture. Part of this harmony is related to the geometrical arrangement and ideal proportions of his compositions. Plato believed that our recognition of beauty relates partly to our subconscious memory of the essences or ideal forms of the metaphysical or spiritual world, with which we compare our present perceptions. (The precise term ‘subconscious’ is however a more modern concept.)
There is an un-showy, almost detached spirituality in much of Piero’s work. Unlike the later works of the Counter-Reformation, he rarely if ever show figures in spiritual rapture, but the separateness of his religious figures implies that the devotion of heaven is different from human spiritual devotion. In his fresco of Mary Magdalene she stands confident and slightly aloof, but with a commitment to those for whom she is making intercession. The quietness and careful intervals between figures in most of his paintings (even the massed figures in the frescoes of Legend of the True Cross, make them feel deliberately arranged for harmony and reflection. It is also clear that behind the composition is a complex geometry, which for Piero probably contained a mystical meaning as well as satisfying his fascination with mathematics.
Significant gestures and poses are importance within Piero’s paintings. The hands of Mary Magdalene in the Noli Me Tangere or the predella of the Polyptych of the Misericordia convey her emotion. (Though probably painted by Piero’s assistant Giuliano Amadei, the predella paintings were probably designed by Piero). The gestured of John and Jesus in the Baptism of Christ convey blessing and spiritual confidence. The figure of Christ stepping from the tomb in the Resurrection shows confidence and offers the security of renewed life. The strong confident poses of the figures in the Legend of the True Cross offer assurance of faith and security in the concept of salvation offered by the story. There is a seriousness about his images emphasised by the composition, substance of the subjects, effects of light and gravity of his figures, which suggest the seriousness of the meaning and theology of the paintings
Piero learned from Domenico Veneziano the technique of gaining realism by drawing the naked figure before clothing it with drapery. Domenico had in turn learned this from Pisanello. Whereas late Gothic painting created a non-real world with gilded, tooled and patterned or stylised backgrounds. Piero created a more realist visual environment for his figures. This must have been partly influenced by his contact with Northern-European art, but also grew from the move towards greater naturalism in Florentine art especially.
We have no notebooks or witness statements which explain Piero’s methods, but from the evidence of the Baptism of Christ it appears that Piero quickly became a methodical artist, who planned his works meticulously and could continue projects over several years. From the pouncing visible in the figure of the angel, it appears that he used cartoons. The simplicity of his images belies the obvious complexity of his works.
Piero idealised the landscape in his paintings, yet rooted them in the Tuscan landscape. His landscape seems influenced by his knowledge of the works of Gentile da Fabriano and Lorenzetti in Sienese works. Mirroring a scene in water beneath excavated banks may have been learned from Bono da Ferrara. However, with his interest in optics Piero made his reflections much more precise, as in the St. Jerome in Penitence or the Baptism of Christ. The light in Piero’s paintings was probably influenced by the brightness of the Tuscan Valley. He explored the effects of light in different ways from Leonardo, seeming not to be as interested in the emotional effects of shadow as on the creation of the form of objects. He explored the effect of light on armour, glass or crystal, the hemispherical curve of an alcove, creating the form of an egg, shining through particles of dust,
Because Piero was intent on the correct perspective of his paintings, the relative proportions of figures in his works sometimes seem unusual. In former times the most important figures in a scene, particularly the most important religious figures, were rendered larger than less significant ones. In Piero this seems sometimes reversed, because of the cleverness of his compositions. In the Flagellation Jesus is far smaller than the onlookers in the foreground; in the Resurrection the soldiers are slightly larger than the risen Christ. An exception would seem to be the seated Mary in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. Federico Montefeltro in the foreground is the largest figure, but Mary, if she stood, would be far taller than John the Baptist and the evangelist who stand in the same plane. This reversal of old traditions of painting design may be deliberate. By making the focus of some of his compositions less deliberately on the main figure (usually of Christ or Mary), Piero managed (intentionally or unintentionally) to create a greater sense of mystery and mysticism in the scenes. He makes us think more about the meaning of the narrative, rather than presenting the viewer with a simple obvious image, which we might not contemplate in such great depth.
Piero’s figures and compositions are rigorously planned. He does not seem to have drawn much simply by chance or intuition, though it is unlikely that he drew most of his figures using the precise methods of construction that he demonstrated in his treatise of the leaning head in perspective. He often repeated figures in his paintings, sometimes using or reversing the cartoon prepared for another scene. The figures are not copied exactly; they often have variations of colouring or finished detailing. Perhaps once he had found a figure that suited his meaning he was happy to use it elsewhere. This implies that the cartoons used for certain works remained in his workshop for the use of both himself and his assistants.
It was common for Renaissance artists to have their subjects, symbolism, iconography, colours and compositions dictated in detail by patrons. The artist was the servant of the patron, even when admired for their genius or after the re-invention of ‘Academies’ brought them greater autonomy and prestige. For ecclesiastical and noble commissions individual vision was not as important as the overall philosophical idea intended by the advisors of the patron. However, Piero seems to have been intentionally trying to impress his patrons by taking the scene, ideas and compositions into more intellectual and complex ideas than might have been expected from other jobbing artists. He also painted with extreme skill and precision of technique. This is seen particularly in the precision with which people today are able to reconstruct the perspective in scenes like the Flagellation. Piero seems to have been as careful over his painting technique as he was over the preparation of his panels and his perspective. Apart from a few minor damages to the Montefeltro Altarpiece and an area of distortion that caused damage around the eyes, his oil-painting technique was long-lasting. His experimentation with plaster made from ground marble as a ground for frescoes also enabled him to paint in precise detail.
RELIGIOUS WORKS BY PIERO DELLA FRANCESCA
POLYPTYCH OF THE MISERICORDIA Sansepolcro, Pinacoteca Communale.
1445-47 then completed c1460 Tempera on panel. Overall dimension c.273 x c.323 cm.
Piero’s family connections may have helped him gain this commission for the chapel or meeting hall of the Hospital of the Confraternity of Santa Maria della Misericordia, Borgo San Sepolcro. The church itself was fairly small, administered by the Franciscans, though it was enlarged towards the end of the following century, certainly by 1620. The Confraternity of the Madonna of Mercy was a group of lay and clerical men devoted to local charitable work and religious devotion. Many historians believe that Piero may have been a member of the confraternity, to which his family certainly had close ties. For several generations members of his family had bequeathed money to the Confraternity and in the 1440s three of Piero’s brothers were recorded as actively involved members. This could account for such a major commission going to a newly emerging artist. The confraternity was composed largely of wealthy merchants, including the main patrons, the Picci/Pichi family, who were to provide the main funding for the commission. The confraternity had previously commissioned work on the altarpiece from other artists but encountered difficulties in developing the commission. This may partly be due to the patronal family’s delays in providing the promised finances, which was also to prove the case for Piero. In his will of 4th September 1422 Urbano di Meo Pichi bequeathed 60 gold florins for the creation of an altarpiece for the high altar of the church of the Misericordia. In February 1435 Guido di Nero Pichi left 50 florins for the chapel for an altarpiece for the confraternity. In 1428 a carpenter, Bartolomeo di Giovanni began to build a frame designed by Ottaviano Nelli for the altarpiece, which was delivered on July 15th 1430. It appears that Nelli himself began the panels, but his work may have been considered insufficient or left unfinished as the commission was transferred to Piero. The commission for Piero to paint the altarpiece was agreed on 11th June (or July) 1445. Vasari mentions that in 1478 the confraternity had commissioned a fresco of the Madonna of the Misericordia from Piero for a fee of 87 scudi on a wall between the church and the hospital. He was probably referring to a lost fresco but there is a possibility that his source was mistaken and he might have been referring to this commission for the polyptych.
We know that the majority of men of social standing in Borgo San Sepolcro belonged to religious confraternities. The inclusion of men and women beneath the robes of the Madonna suggests that pious women may also have been involved in the confraternity’s activities. The members’ commitment to faith motivated them to privately and communally give money and be actively involved in the support of the poor, sick and dying. Charitable activity could be done anonymously, as represented by the man beneath Mary’s cloak, who wears a black hood to shield his identity. It is known that some charitable work by prominent citizens was undertaken wearing such masks. Presumably this anonymity was encouraged by the biblical injunction that we should not let the right hand know what the left hand is doing’.
The confraternity members would have attended mass celebrated in the presence of this altarpiece. The Crucifixion at the pinnacle of the polyptych and the scenes of the entombment and resurrection in the predella give spiritual focus to Christ’s sacrifice. The confraternity’s insignia ‘MIA’ is represented in a roundel at the base of both end piers adorned with a crown with a cross surrounded by florettes.
We cannot be sure of the original arrangement of the panels or their number. The Polyptych was dismantled sometime in the 17th Century and reassembled in a heavy baroque frame. The Confraternity retained it until the institution was suppressed and dissolved in 1807, when the painting was removed to the church of San Rocco.
In 1901 it was transferred to the Pinacoteca Civica where it now hangs. It was restored several times between 1892, the early 1950s then 1959-60. Restoration in 1971 showed that the panel of the Madonna was originally taller, reaching the crucifixion panel above, the panels in the upper tier were also taller and wider and the panels in the piers have been cropped. At present the polyptych comprises 23 panels, with 32 figures excluding the large number of figures in the predella scenes. Some historians think that a whole tier of figures may have been removed. Unusually, not all the figures are painted on separate panels; John the Evangelist and St. Bernardino are painted on one large panel. The original composition may have been similar to the arrangement of Masaccio’s polyptych at Pisa.
The contract for the commission dictated that “the images, figures and adornment will be expressly detailed by the above Prior and Council.... gilded and coloured with fine colours, especially ultramarine azure.” This may perhaps indicate that the background was intended not be gilded in the late-Gothic manner, but have a more realist background. However the background of the saints was gilded, though more lightly patterned than in many altarpieces. The gilding, as with icons is often done before the painting of the figures, so the present gilding was undoubtedly intentional. As well as adding to the richness of the altarpiece, the gilding provides a contrast with the strongly modelled figures. The gold gives the effect of a uniform light around all the figures and allows the eye to contemplate each figure separately, in order, rather than just take in the whole.
Piero commission was agreed on 11th June (or July) 1445. Its detail stipulated that he should complete the paintings on his own, without assistance. Piero was given 3 years to complete the work and was responsible for checking it, maintaining and repairing it for a period of 10 years after its completion. However it was 17 years before he eventually completed the work, for which the final payment was made to his brother Marco in 1462. The details of the imagery for the commission were to be agreed later. The Pichi family possibly delayed payments. Piero certainly moved on to other commissions, as an injunction of 14th January 1454 demanded his return to Borgo San Sepolcro within 40 days to complete the work. It is probably that at this time the figure of St Bernardino was added to the commission, due to his recent canonisation.
The idea of a polyptych like this was probably to emphasise the spiritual protection on which the worshipper, intercessor or community could rely. The figure of Mary is dominant, surrounded by saints whose identities were relevant to the confraternity and the local community. They were augmented above and below by scenes from the life, death and resurrection of Christ, shoes saving work was the source and inspiration of the saints and the Church. Theologically, figures of Mary and the saints focus on the work of Christ in salvation, as represented in the Crucifixion panel and the predella scenes of Resurrection. The saints are witnesses, intercessors and focuses to Christ’s redemption being the source of our security. In an altarpiece they also represent the communion of the Church on earth with the company of heaven. They are ‘the saints triumphant’; we share communion on earth as ‘the saints militant’. Those who shared in the Eucharist before this altarpiece were being reminded that worshippers are united with all who worship and are blessed in earth and heaven.
In the Roman Canon, the Eucharistic rite most common in the 15th Century Church, the consecration was followed by a prayer naming a long list of saints, apostles and martyrs on whose behalf and in whose presence the congregation celebrated the Mass. The polyptych physically represented this. The emphasis on the number of locally relevant saints, particularly the Madonna implies that in praying before this altar, the intercessor is asking for the mediation and prayers of the host of saints represented here. It is not just a representation of any of the host of heaven, the ‘great cloud of witnesses’ which surrounds us [Heb.12:1], but particularly those related to the local worshipper’s condition. The Franciscan friar Bernardino had died in 1444 and was canonised in 1450, so his inclusion in the programme of the altarpiece was probably a later consideration in the commission. St. Bernardino, as the most recently canonised saint may perhaps have been included at the last minute because it was believed that he could offer extra strength as an intercessor, similar to the way that people request a blessing from a newly ordained priest. It is thought that he may have replaced an original intention of representing St. Francis as a main figure. Francis as a result was relegated to the side panels in the pillars.
The figure of Mary at the centre of the altarpiece is less usual. When the altarpiece was in place in the church, this ‘Mater Misericordia’ / ‘Mother of Mercy’ would have been positioned directly above the priest celebrating the Mass. She seems to be intentionally represented as an emblem of the Church offering bounty and protection to people, particularly her faithful devotees. The saints around her represent other pillars of the Church, teachers and martyrs,
The commission from the Compagnia della Misericordia demanded that no other artist was allowed to work on the panels other than Piero: “No other painter can put his hand to the brush except the said painter himself.” However the demands and delays in the commission may have caused a change in this expectation. The sixteen main panels of figures are by Piero. But the predella panels appear to be by another hand, possibly by a workshop assistant identified as Giuliano Amadei from Cimaldoli, who collaborated with Piero from either 1446 or 1456. Piero was allowed three years for the commission, but it took much longer and was not delivered until after 1455. Despite the length of time in completing the work, its style and particularly its iconography are unified. Piero was paid 150 florins of which 50 were paid in advance, as Piero was to be responsible for buying all the panels. This was a relatively low price for a master painter around the same time; the going-rate would have been between 500 and 1500 for such work. This may have been low because of the acknowledged miserliness of the patronal family. Piero probably accepted the commission on these terms because of the prestige of such an important work being offered to a young artist early in his career. (I did the same with the commission for the Lady Chapel Altarpiece for Gloucester Cathedral.) As Piero was in many ways very organised in his undertaking of commissions, he may have deliberately delayed completing this polyptych because the Pichi family delayed their payments. The delay in completing the polyptych frustrated the patrons, and in 1455 the Pichi family tried to sue him for its completion, demanding that he return to the town and completion of the work by Lent.
The polyptych panels include:
Crucifixion This and the scenes of the predella are relevant to the town of Borgo San Sepolcro’s name and dedication. This panel is one of Piero’s most emotional paintings and may have been influenced by Masaccio’s Pisa Crucifixion.
St. Sebastian The wounded saint was regarded as a protector from plague and other epidemics. He was invoked in the Laud Book / ‘Laudario’ of the Confraternity of the Misericordia. His naked figure is more realistic in anatomy than many contemporary figures. This saint is particularly related to the healing work of the hospital of the Misericordia. His wounds may also be related to the activity of the flagellants within the confraternity. Bernardino’s work as a healer, the Madonna of the Misericordia’s protection and the Church’s protection may also be related to St. Sebastian.
John the Baptist John was one of the patron saints of Borgo San Sepolcro. He was a key martyr, pointing to the salvation available to us through Christ’s self-sacrifice, depicted in the Crucifixion scene above.
Madonna of the Misericordia
The figure of Mary has a monumentality and emotional seriousness that reflects Piero’s later work. He obviously put much thought and concentrated effort into this central panel. Mary has the shaved forehead which was popular in sophisticated urban fashion at the time, forming a high forehead. This may be intended to suggest that her mind is focused on God, as in Orthodox icons. She wears the crown of the Queen of Heaven, surmounted by a halo, viewed in perspective. Her form is robust; elegant but strong, broad-hipped, with a heavy neck, more like a youthful peasant woman than elegant representations of refined Renaissance ladies. She is strong enough to carry the intercessions of God’s people, and in Roman Catholic theology, strong enough to be a mediator of salvation and support and example of the Church. Apart from her crown and brooch, she appears simply dressed. Her plain, knotted rope belt implies here virginity, yet is also in the form of a cross, reminding us of her son’s death, bringing the salvation of which Mary was believed to be a mediator. Though of the same size as the other saints on her tier of the altarpiece, Mary is almost double the size of the figures sheltering beneath her robe. This denotes her spiritual significance and influence. The discrepancy in proportions is far less than in many other extant depictions of the subject, perhaps demonstrating Piero’s move towards realism.
The image of Mary is iconographically similar to images on several Aretine Misericordia altarpieces, like that by Parri Spinelli in Santa Maria degli Angeli, Arezzo (1427), which Piero would probably have seen. Venetian ‘scuole’, which were similar confraternities to those of Borgo San Sepolcro, also displayed devotional images of the ‘Mother of Mercy’, either as paintings or reliefs. Piero could certainly have seen the 14th Century fresco of the same subject in the Florence Confraternity of the Misericordia [in the Bigallo, Florence]. The majority of such depictions contain far more figures sheltering beneath Mary’s cloak. By focusing on just eight devotees, Piero may have been deliberately or unintentionally encouraging a more intimate feeling of protection, where the viewer identifies with the characters included. With Mary they also add up to 9 figures - a sacred number composed of 3 x 3, perhaps indicating that the confraternity are attempting with Mary’s help to represent the Trinity authentically within their society.
The geometry of the panel is based on a square and a semicircle. In geometric symbolism these could represent the earthly realm surmounted by the circle of heaven, though of course we have no definite information that this was Piero’s intention. Mary’s shoulders meet at this intercession. Her brooch, which resembles a bishop’s morse, is at the apex of an equilateral triangle of the width of the square, with its base at Mary’s toes. Mary’s hands are on the line of a reverse equilateral triangle from the upper corners of the square to Mary’s toes. The geometry could be intended to suggest that Mary is a mediator or intercessor between the two realms of heaven and earth, or the meeting place where heaven and earth met in her Son. As with Piero’s Baptism of Christ, the rounded arch of the panel marks a transformation from the traditional pointed panels of Gothic altarpieces towards the revival of classical forms in Renaissance works. However, the gold background, which was probably a demand of the commissioners, shows this to be just a transitional phase on the move towards naturalism. As well as being a traditional echo of the gold in icons and mediaeval art, gold backgrounds accorded with Thomas Aquinas’ idea that the spiritual realm is one of eternal light.
Mary’s robe embraces the smaller figures below. This lack of naturalistic proportion is very different from Piero’s later work where figures are of the same size. Here the figure of Mary seems more monumental, probably to emphasise her iconic spiritual status. The figures kneel on a platform, drawn in perspective, which meets at a vanishing point just above the eye-level of the figures, perhaps at Mary’s womb. Unlike traditional Misericordia images, they gather in front of her body, facing her beneath the cloak, rather than beside and behind Mary, forming a circle with her. The imagery may represent the idea that, as she ‘tabernacled’ Christ in her womb, she can now aid in the protection of his followers. The figures may represent various symbolic types, implying that Mary can offer protection for the whole of humanity. They are grouped as four men on Mary’s right and four women on the left. The fact that they are represented against the gold background surrounding Mary implies that these ordinary human beings are raised in importance and significance by the divine setting. They share in the Communion of the Saints. Some critics have suggested that they were actual recognisable figures from the Confraternity of the Misericordia, as they are well-dressed and devotional. It is assumed by several critics that the worshipper beneath Mary’s cloak on the right, with his head thrown back and foreshortened is a self-portrait of Piero himself. This figure reoccurs as a soldier in the Resurrection. There is no proof of this, but it may be that he used himself as a model, although a famous drawing from his treatise on Geometry demonstrated how he managed to work out how to represent a very similar head in perspective. It is not unusual for Renaissance artists to occasionally represent themselves within scenes. Botticelli and Raphael certainly did, but here it seems rather immodest to represent oneself so clearly as a doer of good.
Most images of the Madonna of Misericordia do not include the figure of the Christ-child. Mary herself is seen as a protective figure, which would be heretical if she was not regarded as being one who focuses others towards Christ. She points to him having taken human form to bring about redemption. Mary was also partly regarded as a representative of the Church in protecting, illuminating and nurturing spirituality. This again would be heretical if the focus of our devotion is upon the Church rather than on God, as the role of the Church is to direct people away from itself towards the divine. If Mary, as a representation of the Church, is being shown as conceiving, nurturing and protecting believers, she and the surrounding saints are all present with the congregation as prime examples and models of true discipleship.
As the priest, in celebration of the Mass in the chapel, raised the wafer, he would be doing so beneath Mary’s robe, signifying the presence of the incarnate one in the bread, which represented his flesh. With the saints those partaking in the communion were part of the ‘body of Christ’. Mary is also the example to us, as she was to the charitable members of the confraternity, of one who carried the love of Christ to the world. They take the body of Christ in the Mass partly to proclaim the oneness of the confraternity in being the limbs of the body of Christ, active in the world and particularly in the local community. As the figures of the Confraternity gather beneath Mary’s cloak they celebrate more than their devotion to her and the intimacy of that relationship as ‘Mother of the Church’. She is their model, example and inspiration in their charitable, loving ministry and devotion to God through Christ.
John the Evangelist - This figure has been identified by some as St Andrew but comparisons with the iconography of other works and his pairing with John the Baptist on the other side of Mary, suggests the connection with John the Evangelist. A mediaeval tradition stated that John the Evangelist died on the anniversary of the birth of John the Baptist. The placement of the Virgin of the Annunciation above him also suggests his identity as the writer who emphasised that Christ was ‘the Word made flesh’, and whose chastity reflected that of the Virgin.
St. Bernardino - It seems strange that Bernardino is given more of a prominent position to St. Francis, above him, to whim his finger points, but Bernardino had only recently been canonised. He stands above the Resurrection scene in the predella below, which may relate to Bernardino’s belief that St Francis might himself have been resurrected directly, as was claimed in Ubaldino di Casale’s book ‘Arbor vitae Cruci... Jesu’, which Bernardino promoted.
Virgin & Angel of the Annunciation
The inclusion of the Annunciation was a common feature of many altarpieces. As well as depicting the theology of the Incarnation, it emphasised that Mary became to sheltering womb for the growth of Christ. This related to the Mass in which the elements too were believed to ‘contain’ the presence of Christ. As God became ‘enfleshed’ in Mary’s womb, a similar ‘mystery’ was believed to happen in the consecration of the bread and wine.
If the present arrangement of the altarpiece is correct, the positioning of the Annunciation beside the Crucifixion points to the sacrifice of Christ being in the divine plan from the beginning. Leo the Great had asserted that “the sole purpose of God’s Son in being born was to make the Crucifixion possible. For in the Virgin’s womb he assumed mortal flesh, and in this mortal flesh the unfolding of his purpose was accomplished.” [Tractatus 48:1].
St. Romuald? This identity of this figure above the figure of St Sebastian has been debated. He wears the white robe of the Camaldolese Order, which Romuald founded, but he carries a ‘Tau’ staff and a scourge or ‘disciplina’, which are not elements of the traditional iconography for Romauld. St. Benedict of Norcia was sometimes represented in white, and the Camaldolese Order was founded upon his rule. Other hermits and abbots were represented with the pastoral tau-shaped staff. The Benedictines were one of the earliest religious orders who settled in Borgo San Sepolcro, and, according to the Golden Legend, Benedict was a devotee of St. Sebastian, whose figure he is placed above.
St. Francis St Francis was the founding figure of the Order for whose church this polyptych was designed. He was devoted to the Passion of Christ and to Mary. He was seen as the closest example to a Christ-like figure and ministry to which a Christian could aspire. He was an example of charity towards the poor and needy for the confraternity to follow. His stigmata seemed to be evidence of his Christ-likeness and were similar to Zechariah’s prophecy to Mary that a sword would pierce her heart. He is painted in a humble way but with the dignity of their founder.
On the left pilaster: St. Jerome, St. Anthony of Padua, both examples of hermit mystics and examples of contemplatives who the Franciscan friars and members of the confraternity aimed to follow. (St. Arcanus? Founding saint of Borgo)
On the right pilaster: St. Augustine, St. Dominic, Doctors of the church and defenders of doctrine who were examples for the preaching friars to follow. (St. Egidius? Founding saint of Borgo)
On the predella: The pilaster and predella panels have been reduced in size at the sides and represent: Christ’s Agony in the Garden; Flagellation; Entombment; Noli Me Tangere; The Three Marys at the Sepulchre.
The Three Marys at the Sepulchre The gesture of Mary covering her eyes to see more clearly is similar to that of Fra Angelico’s Deposition (Four Mary’s at the Empty Tomb). in San Marco, Florence. The predella paintings, as well as showing the Passion and Resurrection of Christ, suggest the acts of mercy performed by the Franciscan friars: Support of and intercession for the needy, the relief of the suffering, burial of the Dead, visiting and bringing hope to the bereaved and proclamation of the Gospel of Salvation.
Placing the Entombment of Christ at the centre of the predella probably intentionally related it to the connection of the altar below with a tomb. The space below the altar top on which the bread and wine were place was known technically as the ‘tumba’ / ‘tomb’. This would be true of any Catholic altar, but it is particularly relevant in the case of Borgo San Sepolcro, which had its special identification with the sepulchre of Christ, a stone of which was the town’s most famous founding relic.
The Flagellation, like the scourge held by St. Sebastian above may be associated with the members of the confraternity who were ‘disciplinati’ or ‘flagellants’ and the practice of self-flagellation by other members of the Convent.
The inclusion of so many scenes representing Mary Magdalene may also have had contemporary relevance. On 22nd July 1456 The Franciscan John Capistran, who was devoted both to her and his mentor St. Bernardino, had won a significant victory over the Turks and attributed it to her intervention and his own raising of the Cross as Constantine had done at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge..
Piero seems to have been experimenting with oil painting at the time, so there are some technical weaknesses, which caused later cracking.
NATIVITY / ADORATION OF THE CHILD. National Gallery, London. Before 1482 /c1478-80?. 124.5 x 123 cm.
This painting may be Piero’s last painting. Critics differ over its dating between 1470 and 1485. It is likely to be before 1482, because two of the angels seem to have been copied by Laurentio d’Andrea in an altarpiece of that date (Museo Statale, Arezzo). Some theorists suggest that Piero may have intended it for his own grave or the family chapel in the Badia (now Sansepolcro Cathedral), where he wished to be buried. Piero’s family, the Franceschi were patrons of the Capella del Monacato chapel in the abbey church, and his father was also buried there. Another suggestion is that it may have been a wedding present for his nephew Francesco, who married in 1482. It could be the painting recorded as hanging in Francesco’s wife Laudamia’s chamber, in a document of 30th January 1550. Also a ‘painting of the Nativity’ passed to his nephew from Piero’s estate after his death. The painting remained in the ownership of the Franceschi family, for many centuries, though there was a dispute among Piero’s heirs over its ownership in 1515. It may have been lent out or used for religious purposes by the family, including use as a small private altarpiece, since it appears to have candle damage. Other works copied from it, including a Nativity by Durante Alberti in Sansepolcro Cathedral, suggest that at some time it was on public display. (Alberti’s Nativity painting includes the braying donkey, and the shepherd pointing to the sky, so it has been suggested that it may have been painted as a substitute for Piero’s painting when it was returned to the family.) Two of the angels appear to have been copied by Lorentino d’Andrea in an altarpiece dated 1482, now in the Pinacoteca, Arezzo. If so Piero’s Nativity must be before that date.
The painting was still in the family’s possession in 1826 when it was deposited with the Uffizi for sale in Florence, and appeared again in sales lists of 1848, 1858 and 1861. The family offered it for sale in 1859 to the dealer and intermediary John Charles Robinson for £70. He refused it as it was not in a good condition, and he was impatient to leave Italy due to the politically unstable situation. He later regretted failing to buy it, though described it as having peeling paint, abrasions, and losses visible beneath layers of oxidised varnish). (Robinson was also instrumental in the buying of Piero’s Baptism of Christ). The British collector Alexander Barker bought it in 1861 and had the painting badly restored. However at the recommendation of Benjamin Disraeli, the National Gallery bought it for £2,415 at the auction of Barker’s collection in 1874 and the bad restoration was removed before it was first displayed in 1888.
The areas of this painting which appear unfinished today may well have been in a far more finished state originally, as the picture appears to have been drastically over-cleaned. There are differences of critical opinion over whether Piero ever completed the work. (Other works bequeathed to Piero’s heirs are described as being unfinished,) The lower part of the painting has been damaged by candles at some time and by the movement of the wood in the panel. It was already in bad condition in 1826, since on writing to the Uffizi in a letter of 22nd July, Piero’s distant heir Marini Francesci described it as “maltreated by time and the lack of diligence of my forbears.”
We have no documentation of Piero’s personality, character or faith, so it wold be wrong to make assumptions about how the painting may have related to him. But if he designed it for his own use or for his grave, it may be the closest that we can get to a personal impression of his faith. As the painting appears in its present state it seems very quiet and thoughtful, despite the singing angels and braying donkey. It is rather an uncomfortable composition, with the figures divided in to groups, but this may be a deliberate mathematical Fibonacci progression: one - Christ; two - Christ and Mary and the ox and ass; three - Joseph and the shepherds; five - the angels.
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The figure of a shepherd pointing up to the sky resembles the pose of the small figure of the elder or priest beneath the arm of the disrobing man in Piero’s Baptism of Christ. His posture is probably intended to indicate the miraculous heavenly knowledge that he had received; he seems to be explaining to Joseph the angelic vision which directed them to the scene [Lk.2:8-20]. His arm gesture and the way he carries his staff, have been associated with the iconography of the Emperor Augustus, with pointing arm and imperial baton held by in the statue from the Empress Livia’s villa at Prima Porta (c20 B.C.E. in the Vatican Museum). If this connection with Augustus is intended, the pose may relate to the mediaeval tradition, recorded in the Golden Legend, of a vision seen by Augustus on the winter solstice (the original date given to Christmas). After a victory celebration Augustus had closed the gates of peace in Rome. Then on the Capitoline Hill Augustus had asked the Tiburtine Sibyl whether there would ever be a greater leader than he. In response the soothsayer pointed him vision in the sky of the Altar of Heaven (Ara Coeli), where they saw an image of the Madonna and Child in the clouds. The pose of Joseph beside the shepherd may corroborate this connection. The strange position of Joseph is very close to the pose of the Roman statue of the Spinario (Capitoline Museum, Rome). In Piero’s time this was mounted on the Capitoline Hill, where the Ara Coeli vision had supposedly taken place. Of course there is no proof of either of these iconographic connections, but it would seem to be more than a coincidence.
In the distance on the left is a view of Borgo San Sepolcro, with a large palatial building on the right. It was usual in contemporary iconography to show the Nativity in the ruins of an ancient building, representing the ruins of the Hebrew patriarch Abraham’s palace, indicating that Jesus was replacing the old dispensation. The Golden Legend claimed that at Jesus’ birth an earthquake had caused the building’s destruction. Here, however, the setting in Piero’s Nativity is far more humble, under lean-to roof erected against a simple ruined wall. This is probably an ‘aia’ or covered area open to the sun, which was used in Italian farms for drying wheat. If this identification is correct, it could refer to Christ as the ‘bread of life’ who would be threshed in order to bring salvation. Plants are growing on the thatch and a magpie looks down on the scene.
The magpie’s significance is uncertain; it may represent the devil looking on, waiting for his chance to disrupt God’s plans for the child. The black-and-white magpie, by contrast to the innocence of the song-birds feeding on the ground around the nativity, has an ugly song, reflected in its onomatopoeic Italian name ‘gazza’. It was regarded by ancient writers as a contrast to the muse of music. This may be why it is represented immediately above the group of singing angels and why its beak is so clearly shown as silent, while the more innocent donkey’s bray accompanies them. Magpies were connected to predation, slyness, robbery of valuable shiny things and slander, as it could imitate the human voice. It contrasts with Christ the bringer of the Word of truth and honesty, bringing the gift of life. Birds are often symbols of the human soul; their abilities to fly were used to represent the potential of the ascent of the soul to heaven. The many small birds feeding on the ground around Jesus may be intended to show that nature recognises the spiritual life that he is bringing. In the gospels Christ points to the value of the sparrow in God’s sight. The birds may represent our own ability to come to Christ for spiritual nourishment and the potential of abundant spiritual life. The emphasis on nature, gathered around Jesus in the painting probably refers to a passage in the Golden Legend, where the Nativity is described as being celebrated by “all creatures, the rocks of the earth, the trees, all growing things, animals, humankind and also the seraphim, the pinnacle of Creation.” This painting illustrates Creation celebrating the birth of the one who would liberate it from the bonds of decay [Rom.8:21].
The baby Jesus, lies on the ground, as described in the vision of Bridget of Sweden. He rests on a folded blue cloth, perhaps Mary’s mantle as she is unusually represented bare-headed, though with a pearl of puri9ty in her blonde hair, topped with a braided band . The blue probably represents the eternity from which he came and echoes the blue of Mary’s cloak. Around Jesus is a simple garden of plants populated by birds, all of which probably have some symbolic meanings, as in the foliage in the Baptism of Christ. Their identities are not easy to discern.
The angel choir serenading the child play lutes and viols. The three angels at the front of the group are dressed simply as the angel to the right in the Senegallia Madonna, while the two angels behind seem to be dressed more liturgically in embroidered garments. The furthermost angel has features which resemble the left hand angel in the Senigallia Madonna. Behind them the braying ass, which may be joining in their song, is a feature of some Northern European nativity illustrations. Perhaps Piero took the idea from one of these. It contrasts with the sense of beauty and harmony of the angels’ song, but implies that nature too is recognising and praising the presence of the Source of Salvation. The presence of an ox and ass in the stable reached back to ancient representations of the nativity, and probably derives from Isaiah 1:3 “The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand.”
Mary is shown in devotion before the child. Unlike many of Piero’s more matronly, peasant Madonnas, she is slim and elegant, with a simple beauty. If this is a personal painting for the benefit of Piero and his family alone, it may show a change in his reflection on spirituality towards the end of his life. She has taken off her mantle to use as a cushion on the ground for her infant who raises his arms to her, almost in a gesture of welcome or embrace.
Joseph behind her is represented as an old man with folded hands, listening to the account of the shepherd whose ‘Ara Coeli’-like gesture suggests that he is recounting the heavenly source of the vision which brought them to the scene. The strange realistic representation of Joseph’s defies all traditional iconography in his pose particularly. This may reflect Piero’s interest in finding meaningful new poses and gestures for his characters, as in the Resurrection. He neither watches over the child and his mother protectively nor looks on in similar devotion to that of Mary. Reflecting the pose of the ancient sculpture of the ancient Spinario statue, Piero represents Joseph sitting cross-legged on the unhitched saddle of the donkey, as though resting his bare foot after the long journey. The donkey on which Mary is traditionally shown as travelling to Bethlehem is not mentioned in the biblical story, but comes from apocryphal stories, which were included in mediaeval accounts. Perhaps Joseph is being suggested to have washed his foot, which might relate to the story of Moses and the burning bush, where Moses is told to remove his shoes for he is standing on holy ground in the presence of God. Less directly this has connections to Jesus washing his disciples’ feet in the upper room. Joseph, like the angels is barefooted in the presence of Christ. The feet of Mary and the shepherds are not visible.
In an otherwise rather formally posed painting, the figure of Joseph is by far the most realistic character. With the plants and birds he may be influenced by the Northern-European works which Piero had seen on his travels. There are several similarities with the naturalism, poses and content of Hugo van der Goes’ Nativity, the central panel of the Portinari Altarpiece [Uffizi Gallery, Rome], but that did not reach Florence until 1483, and records suggest that Piero’s painting was completed by that time. It is more likely that Piero was responding, like van der Goes to the descriptive vision of St. Bridget of Sweden. Though both paintings have similar natural details, include singing angels, a kneeling virgin and the figure of Christ on the ground, there is not enough similarity of composition to conclude that Piero had seen van der Goes picture. There are greater similarities with Alesso Baldovinetti’s Nativity for the Church of the Annunziata, Florence (1460-2), which Piero is more likely to have seen.
The setting is an interesting one. Unlike the valley landscapes in which Piero sets most of his religious scenes, Piero has set the crib on a hillside promontory. Perhaps it refers to the idea that Bethlehem was said to be in ‘the hill-country of Judea’. If the connection to the Emperor Augustus is intended, the raised position could also reflect the Capitoline Hill where the Ara Coeli vision took place. The stable setting has been greatly simplified from the often of classical architectural ruins popular in other nativity paintings. The simplicity of the propped-up roof over three simple stone walls may refer to the idea that the roughness of the setting helped to cover-up the true nature of Christ from his unbelieving enemies who wanted to destroy him. (The deceiving magpie could also be related to this).
The scene is based on the visions of the C14th mystic St Bridget of Sweden, which were widely read at the time and influenced Northern European nativity paintings particularly. Bridget described Mary as a beautiful, young, light-haired woman, kneeling in adoration of her child lying naked on the ground. She mentioned hearing the singing of angels “of miraculous sweetness and great beauty” which the harmony of the angels portrays.
BAPTISM OF CHRIST National Gallery, London. 167 x 116 cm.
Like most of Piero’s works the date, source and context of this panel is debated. Some regard the Baptism of Christ as an early work by Piero, but others suggest a similar date to the Flagellation (c1460) as it shares certain characteristics.
19th century sources claim that this was the central panel of an altarpiece which formed a triptych with large panels of St Peter and St. Paul on either side, and smaller panels by Matteo di Giovanni and assistants [in] who were working in Borgo San Sepolcro. This is not absolutely certain, as some believe that Matteo’s panels belonged to a different altarpiece, but it would seem more than coincidental that Piero’s Baptism panel is of the correct and size. However the figures in Piero’s painting are of a very different proportion to those of Matteo’s saints, who would have appeared much larger. The saints on the Matteo di Giovanni panels have gold backgrounds and are painted in a very different style to that of Piero, so the contrast in the altarpiece would have been striking, and may have contributed to the fact that the altarpiece was dismantled. (An altarpiece of 1387 for the Florentine church of Sta. Maria degli Angeli by Nocolò di Pietro Gerini also has images of Saints Peter and Paul flanking Christ’s baptism ). At some time, whether originally or more likely, later, the works are described as being formed into a polyptych. Above were smaller images of Mary with the Angel of the Annunciation (probably separated, as in the Polyptych of the Misericordia, and pillars with three saints on either side, representing St.Stephen, Mary Magdalene, St. Arcanus / Arcano, St. Benedict?, St. Catherine?, and St. Egidius / Egidio?. The predella was emblazoned with the arms of the Graziani family and scenes from the life of St. Benedict, or the life of John the Baptist, with representations of Four Doctors of the Church. Matteo di Giovanni is documented as working in Borgo San Sepolcro in the 1460s. The work on these panels is dated to between 1460 and 1465. This may suggest a date for Piero’s work, though equally Piero could have completed his panel earlier or later. (Some commentators suggest that Mateo’s central panels may have been badly damaged.) Piero is also said to have painted a roundel of God the Father above the Baptism.
The original setting for the altarpiece is contested. The fact that the frame had figures that were designed to be viewed from three sides implies that the altarpiece was intended for a high altar, rather than a side chapel. In the 19th Century it was claimed to have originally been for the altar of the Chapel of John the Baptist in the Camaldolese priory church of St. Giovanni d’Afra, Borgo San Sepolcro, which was renamed c.1496 as the church of San Giovanni Evangelista. (St. Giovanni d’Afra was originally a small church, where its prior Don Nocolò di Nicoloso Graziani amassed a large number of relics, including those of John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene and St. Stephen. The prior may have been the patron for this altarpiece, though he died c1455. As the figures on the pilasters of the frame represent the two saints, Egidio and Arcana, who legendarily founded Borgo San Sepolcro, some historians suggest that the work was commissioned for the Baptist’s Chapel in Badia, since the altar was also dedicated Egidio and Arcano. The patron has also been suggested to be the San Sepolcro financier Benedetto di Baldino. Other historians seek to identify it with the high altar of Sta, Maria Assunta, the parish church of San Sepolcro, though it would be a strange subject for a main altarpiece, despite the church being favoured for civic baptisms. The Augustinians had taken over the church in 1555 and replaced the altarpiece with a subject more suited to the priorities of their Order. Some suggest that the patronal family may have moved it at this time, others that it was moved c1583 to the Chapel of St. John the Baptist in the priory of San Giovanni Battista in the Badia at Borgo San Sepolcro, then transferred in 1807 to the cathedral (which the Camaldolese abbey had been transformed into in 1518.) The panel of the Baptism only remained in the Cathedral for 52 years, until 1859, when the cathedral chapter decided to sell it.
In the mid-19th Century Italy was in a state of political chaos and the cathedral of Sansepolcro, short of funds, was attempting to sell artefacts and furnishings to pay for the restoration of the interior. The Baptism panel was removed sometime between 1857 and 1859 with another circular panel by Piero which surmounted it, of ‘God the Father’ (now lost). The cathedral attempted to sell it to the Tuscan government, before the enterprising dealer John Charles Robinson bought it for £400 (23,000 lire) in April 1859 just before the major removal of artworks from Italy was officially halted. He had written in 1857 to the National Gallery asking whether they would want to buy the painting but on receiving no answer, he approached the wealthy collector, railway magnate and merchant Matthew Uzeilli to provide the money. Useilli was a member of the Burlington Fine Arts Club, which Robinson had founded. He allowed it to be displayed in the South Kensington Museum (now the V&A) for 2 years before offering his collection for sale at Christies in 1861, when it was bought for the National Gallery for a far higher price than it had originally been offered to them (£4,000). (Robinson became Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures for Victoria, but lost his job at the South Kensington Museum through buying works for himself and friends while travelling on purchasing business for the museum.)
The panel of the Baptism has unpainted borders at its arched top, which would have been hidden behind the architectural frame. Some believe the frame would have been designed by Piero himself. When bought by Robinson, the painting was recorded as being in relatively bad condition. It had a vertical split which went through the leaves of the tree and the head of the dove. Sadly however, in the process of its 19th Century cleaning, the paint surface was badly abraded, removing both the varnish and the surface of some of the tempera. This left the green underpainting more prominent than it would originally have appeared. The tempera itself has lost its surface layer of paint and some of the pigments have also faded, increasing their transparency. It is probable that the original appearance of Christ’s body as Piero completed it is very different from its present appearance, but it still has an hypnotic power. Some details have also been lost over time. Originally the dove emerged from a shower of gold lines and the wings of the angels were also picked out in gold, as was the embroidery of the hem of Christ’s loin-cloth. The water pouring from John’s shell was also gilded, perhaps adding to the sense of motionlessness. Knowing of this loss may help us appreciate how different Piero’s painting may once have originally appeared, yet is remains a wonderful and harmonic work.
Dating the painting is difficult. It is possible that Piero’s Baptism was already completed when Matteo produced the other panels. Various dates have been suggested for its painting, from 1440 to 1465. As it is in tempera, rather than oil on panel, it is likely to be fairly early in date, as Piero later moved to a mixture of the techniques then appears to have preferred the medium of oils. It appears to have been influenced by the Baptism scene in Sassetta’s polyptych for San Francesco in Borgo San Sepolcro, which was delivered in 1444. Stylistically Piero’s Baptism seems more advanced than his Berlin Jerome (1450). Its arrangement and the sculptural effect of light on the figures may be more stylistically linked to the Polyptych if the Misericordia (mid-1450s) or Piero’s earliest on the Arezzo frescoes. Others date it later to the time of the Flagellation (c1460 or 1465). The static feeling of the figures and their rigid geometry makes them feel more rigid than the naturalism of some of his later works, which suggests that it might be fairly early.
The painting combines several elements of the Biblical account of Jesus’ baptism: John preaching repentance and baptising in the Jordan, people from all walks of society including Temple representatives coming to listen, catechumens disrobing and receiving baptism, John recognising Christ as the Lamb of God who would away the sins of the world and baptising him, the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove revealing God’s message: “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.” But the addition of the three angels, the setting of the scene in the local Tuscan landscape, and the clear geometrical and mathematical arrangement of the scene transform the image into a more mysterious and intense representation than most, paintings of the same subject. The landscape itself was a rare innovation. Since the frescoes of antiquity, a landscape had rarely been represented on such a large scale. Piero would possibly have visited Siena and seen Lorenzetti’s murals of Good and Bad Government, which included panoramic landscapes. But otherwise, if landscape was represented at all in religious pictures, it had hitherto been mostly symbolic or a brief tree, bush or rock, not a fully realised topographic background. Masolino’s Baptism fresco in the Baptistery, Castiglione, Olona (c.1430) also shows a large landscape background with a mountainous river valley, three onlooking angels (holding Christ’s clothes) and four semi-naked baptism candidates, but the landscape is more generalised than that of Piero. Piero was definitely representing the Baptism of Christ as though in his local Tuscan setting, perhaps to emphasise its relevance to his contemporaries and to imply that the valley in which Borgo San Sepolcro was built was a holy place.
Although I analyse in detail many of the symbols and significant details within it, the picture was designed primarily for contemplation as a background for the Eucharist and to be prayed before in a chapel. The symbolic details would have been included, not primarily for intellectual interest, but as signs pointing to the significance of the subject, particularly nature and significance of the figure of Jesus, who is central and dominant. In being baptised he is devoting himself and his vision to God and identifying himself with humankind. In showing him in his semi-naked humanity the image presents the reality of the divine man who is giving himself for humankind in the elements of the Mass as well as in his earthly ministry, and now divinely interceding from heaven. It is significant that he is shown in an attitude of prayer, both in the process of devoting himself and interceding for us. The presence of the dove reminds us that this is the moment when Jesus is being declared by the voice of God from heaven as his ‘chosen one’, ‘the beloved Son in whom I am well pleased’ [Matt.3:17; Mk.1:11; Lk.3:22; Jn.1:33-4]. The image thus represents the whole Trinity: the Son, Spirit and the invisible presence of the Father. Mediaeval theologians considered the Baptism as the first earthly revelation of Christ’s divinity and ‘the first revelation of the Trinity’. They called it ‘the Descent of Divine Illumination’, which Piero showed literally in the rays of gold radiating from the dove onto Christ. God the Father, of course is invisible in the scene, but his presence is suggested by more than the space within the picture. The roundel of the altarpiece, which was positioned directly above the Baptism panel, was a representation of God the Father, probably leaning forwards in blessing over the scene below. We know that roundel was removed and offered for sale in 1859, but its whereabouts, if it still survives, is unknown.
The figure of Christ has wonderful luminosity and transparency of flesh, almost like alabaster. We cannot be entirely sure of how it appeared originally, since rubbing and cleaning over time, as well as the degradation of certain pigments and the greater dominance of the green underpainting have altered the effect. But it still remains a remarkable and quietly attractive figure. His proportions are idealised, following classical proportions, probably intending to represent not just the ideal human being but his divine nature. He wears the two-pointed beard that was associated in several other Piero paintings with Jews and other middle-eastern characters, as well as being a symbol of wisdom and insight. (Piero possibly adopted this shape from the beards of Eastern clerics who he had seen at the Council of Florence). Christ’s upright pose suggests his authority as he prays in dedication to his forthcoming ministry. The stance of prayer also assures the viewer that he is still praying for the world and interceding for us now before the Father on the throne of heaven.
John the Baptist was the patron saint of Borgo San Sepolchro, which is the town with high towers visible in the distance beside Christ’s waist. John is shown in the pose of stepping forward to baptise Jesus, but he seems almost static. He appears to be speaking or about to speak; the three angelic figures certainly seem to be on the point of making some form of declaration. His arm is raised to baptise Christ with a shell as was common in contemporary church liturgy of Piero’s time. This raised-arm pose is also similar to that of an orator, suggesting that the Baptist is revealing truths about Jesus as the Lamb and Son of God, as the dove and voice from heaven are doing..
The four figures in the middle distance, beneath the arched figure of the disrobing man and reflected in the river may be intended intentionally to contrast with the three ‘angelic’ figures in the foreground who are more static. Four is a human number, three a divine one. The four may be priests, patriarchs or elders, as was were fairly traditional in the iconography of paintings of Christ’s baptism. The Church Fathers referred to the Baptism of Christ as ‘the first manifestation to the Jews’ so these men may symbolically represent this. One watches the act of baptism and points towards the dove of the Spirit, in a gesture that is parallel to John’s arm. The others seem less obviously engaged with the scene. These figures are represented in untraditional ways, dressed in elaborate robes and tall headdresses and turbans of the Eastern costumes of Constantinople, similar to those which Piero would have seen worn by the senior Greek clerics at the Council of Florence. Some commentators suggest that as well as representing the religious authorities of Jesus’ day, or they may also be interpreted as church patriarchs pointing to the tradition of baptism that passed down from the origins of the Church. They have the beards of the Eastern clerics. Piero is one of only a few Italian artists to represent their tall cylindrical hats. Piero, like several contemporaries at the Council of Florence, may have considered that their tradition like their robes dated back to the church’s foundation, of which baptism was one of the founding acts.
They have also been associated by some commentators with the Magi, with one pointing to the star, but traditionally only three magi are usually represented in Renaissance art (though occasionally four were represented in Early Christian art. The number of magi is not specified in scripture, which just names their three gifts. In Psalm 72:10 (the Antiphon for the Epiphany) Kings of Tharsis, the Isles, Arabia and Saba are mentioned as, in future, bringing gifts to God, so the association of the Epiphany with Christ’s baptism could be appropriate, as Christ’s Baptism is a theme of the Epiphany season.
The angels are unusual in being represented as standing onlookers in the scene, not flying, praising or praying, as in much traditional baptism iconography. Neither do they hold Christ’s clothes, as in some more domestic representations of the subject. Their faces are quiet and empathetic; their inward expressions may be suggesting that we, the viewers should be contemplating the meaning of the scene as they are represented as doing. One looks out at us, as if to engage us in meditating on the scene. They are barefooted, as are the angels in Piero’s Nativity, and the central figure stands contrapposto, a posture associated with elegance of manner, which may also be the stance of the other angels. Two at least hold hands, the other reaches towards their grasped hands, pointing towards Christ at waist height. This is almost a relaxed, static, genderless interpretation of the iconography of the dance of the three graces, which was a symbol of the beauty of harmony. Are they here perhaps suggesting that harmony is coming to the world through Christ’s identifying with humankind in his incarnation and baptism? Some interpreters consider the angels might allude to or represent the Trinity. If so, they are more likely to be a reminder of the involvement of the entire Trinity in the scene than actually representing them. The Trinity were represented in the altarpiece anyway, in this panel and the roundel of God the father above. We are not considering here the sort of symbolism of Rublev’s Trinity Icon. If anything the angels would be considered the on-looking and appreciative servants of the Trinity. They are dressed in robes that share three colours, blue for eternity, white for purity, and a pink or magenta which could represent the human flesh of Christ’s incarnation or the angels’ nature as created beings. The way in which the angels are presented and posed I in relation to Christ is unusual. They do not venerate the figure of Jesus or pray or sing within the scene, but are represented in a sort of sacred conversation, in the form of ‘the three graces’ or an ‘allegory of friendship’. They look more like classical muses, Christianised by the addition of wings, which may relate to the classicising influences upon the church of Piero’s time and Renaissance platonically-influenced theology.
The angel on the extreme left watches the baptism with a look of quiet amazement and seems about to speak. He has a simple ribbon hair-band, with a trinity of pearls at his forehead, suggesting his origins in the divine realm of the Trinity. He wears a magenta dress, with a robe of blue about his waist. He is viewed almost from behind, as a lead into the composition, with his head in profile. This allows for the display of his iridescent wings that range through the colours of light, rather like those painted by Fra Angelico. This colouring probably relates to Thomas Aquinas’ description of the colours of angels. As he points towards Christ his palm is lowered in humility, which could be a sign that this man being baptised is the incarnate one who has lowered himself in coming to redeem humanity, and is submitting humbly to baptism {Phil.2:6].
The central angel is garlanded with flowers: red and white roses in a woven frame. He watches the baptism scene intently, with a serious expression and again appears about to speak. He wears a white classical gown, the ‘kiton’, with a simple blue, high waist-band and one shoulder bare. Grasping his neighbours hand he seems to be the one of the three angels to sense sorrow, perhaps recognising the spiritual significance of the scene and the opposition that Christ will encounter in his ministry. (I realise that I could be reading too much into his expression, but Piero’s art is full of significant gestures and expressions, which seem intentional,) The garland especially is similar to a wedding garland. With his grasp of his neighbour’s hand this may be an intentional reference to our spiritual marriage commitment to Christ and the covenant vows that Jesus was making in his baptism. This reference may be to another Epiphany theme, the Marriage at Cana, which was used, like the Song of Songs, by contemporary preachers and commentators as a type of the individual believer and the Church’s covenant commitment to God. Christ in baptism was committing himself to the world in love and self-giving.
The angel on the right looks out towards us. His face expresses less concern than the other two. He seems to be calling for our attention, asking the viewer to the significance and promise of security that this scene is offering: Christ’s identification with sinful human beings, which will lead to his future sacrifice will achieve salvation and assurance of God’s care. The angel’s head is garlanded with laurel or myrtle, which may be intended to link the scriptural subject of Christ’s baptism to the message of a classical muse. He is robed in the blue of heaven and the pink of human flesh, natures that were united in Christ. His gesture of resting his unclasped hand on the neighbouring angel’s shoulder may suggest that this scene offers peace, security and rest.
The tree behind Christ has a similar dominance of trees in Piero’s paintings of St. Jerome [Venice], The Resurrection, and the frescoes of The Death of Adam, The Queen of Sheba Adoring the Holy Wood, and The Exaltation of the Cross in Arezzo. Its presence beside the Jordan may be a reminder of the imagery of a dedicated believer as a tree planted besides flowing waters in Psalm 1:1-3. St. Augustine in commentating on the Psalms, related these verses to Wisdom deriving its nourishment from the Holy Spirit. Other interpreters commentating on the passage made direct connections between Christ and the tree growing from the nourishment of God, as in the Tree of Life in Rev.22. (Examples can be found in Jerome, Origen, Eusebius, Athanasius, Cassiodorus, Hilary and Ambrose.) The tree, like the Cross was also seen as a symbol of healing, as were the plants at the base of the composition. It is not clear what species of tree is represented, though it appears to be growing the shells of nuts. This may be an imagined generic tree, rather than a specific genus. It may have some intended connection with the eternal and healing properties of Tree of Life in Genesis 2:16-17 and Revelation 22:2. This too drew nourishment from the waters of life. It is also possible that the three major trees in the composition relate to the Trinity, and that the smaller tree in the distance signifies the presence of Mary or John the Baptist in the story of redemption. The Piero scholar Marilyn Aronberg Lavin suggests that the main tree is a Mediterranean Walnut, which grew in the Tiber Valley around Sansepolcro. She believes that, as walnuts were believed to foretell the future, it may be a balance to the figure of John, Christ’s forerunner. The angle of John’s arm is reflected in the branch of the tree as well as the bending back of the catechumen.
The Tree could also be intended as a reminder of Christ’s coming Crucifixion. If it is a walnut it chimes with the name of the valley in which Sansepolcro was built: ‘Val de Nocea’ (‘Valley of the Walnuts’). Lavin’s interpretation seems to ring true, as the two pilgrims Arcano and Aegidius, who in legend, rested in that clearing of the forest, were told in a dream to found the shrine for their relic of the Holy Sepulchre, which grew into the Camaldolese Convent for which this altarpiece was intended, and around which the town of Borgo San Sepolcro grew. Christ’s Baptism was the public start of his mission, which would eventually lead him to the Cross and to the Sepulchre from which the relic came.
At the foot of the panel the plants probably all have intentional symbolic meanings. Many to those that we can identify are associated with healing, thus could be associated with the salvation which Christ is bringing, both through his earthly ministry and act of Redemption: Clover by the tree was used to treat snakebites and scorpion stings. As these creatures were symbols of the devil, Clover was also used to ward off witchcraft and hostile spells. Its triple leaf was used as a sign of the Trinity, so here, leaning against the tree it may represent Christ’s divinity and his bringing of salvation and healing through the Cross. The roots of Plantain (shown growing by John’s back foot and beneath the angels) were pulverised to staunch bleeding and treat hard swellings. Because of its coagulating properties it was associated with Christ’s Passion, whipping, and the wounds of his crucifixion Plantain was also squeezed for its juice to treat pain in the gums; its seeds treated constipation. Its ancient name ‘Wegerich’ / ‘way-bread’ was a symbol of the path which believers take in seeking Christ, which may be why it is represented alongside both the angels who are witnesses to Christ’s divinity and incarnation, and John the Baptist, who prophetically pointed to him as Messiah. At the angels’ feet are also Buttercups (Ranunculus), which were used to cleanse the kidneys, treat lunacy, and avert toothache. Convolvulus in the foreground of the right bank was a diuretic. Liquorice (Glycyrrhiza) on the left riverbank was used as a laxative and emetic. The plant in the immediate foreground appears to be black bryony. All of these imply the removal of poisons or evil humours from the body, as Christ would deal with the evils on earth.
The riverbed approaches us straight on, as though we too are participants in the Baptism, which believers who prayed before this altar would have been. The Jordan as represented here is hardly the geographical river in which Jesus was baptised; it is represented as shallow stream. The flow of the water appears to stop at Christ’s feet. We see the robed clerics, sky and landscape reflected in the water. But this appears to end with curled lines of lapping wavelets, as it touches Jesus’ ankles. Jesus appears to stand on a dry river-bed of sand and pebbles. The water appears to stop as Jesus and John step into it, which may be a reminder of several biblical passages, particulalry the opening of the Red Sea in the Exodus and the crossing of the Jordan into Canaan. God’s people, crossing on dry land, are perhaps being seen as a prefiguration of the salvation and divine healing, which Christ is bringing. The Jordan was also supposed to have stopped as Joshua crossed with the Ark of the Covenant [Josh.3:15-17] and as Elisha and Elijah passed with his cloak [2Ki.2:8]. There was a mediaeval legend that at the moment of Christ’s baptism the waters themselves recognised Christ’s divinity and flowed backwards away from him, fulfilling Psalm 114, which had originally referred to the Exodus and entrance of God’s People into the Promised Land. Baptism was seen as a sign of that promise:
“The sea looked and fled;
Jordan turned back.
The Mountains skipped like rams,
the hills like lambs...
Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord,
at the presence of the God of Jacob,
who turns the rock into pools of water,
the flint into springs of water. [Ps.114:3, 5-8
This interpretation of the scene seems convincing. It may be intentionally representing the waters and nature generally retreating or stopping in reverence as it recognised the divinity of Jesus. Yet the small ripples round the ankles of Jesus and John the Baptist, as well as on the river-bank, could also suggest that the appearance of dry land may only be symbolic. It may suggest that the viewers themselves are in the water, experiencing the riverbed below them. In several earlier paintings of the Baptism, including icons and early mosaics, Christ’s full figure is seen as though through transparent water, sometimes with fish and other water creatures also visible within.
Jesus would probably have been submerged in baptism, but the baptism represented by Piero is more like that of the contemporary church of Piero’s day, though in a landscape rather than a church font. A tiny flow of water is all that emerges from the shell which John holds, but that was considered enough to confer the totality of God’s blessing. Jesus’ feet, though in the river, are not submerged in water, which means that the water does not reflect or refract his figure, though it reflects the landscape around it. The perfection if Christ’s divine figure not being distorted by the water might also be intended to suggest that he is of a higher nature than the world around him.
The figure removing his shirt behind the Baptist and the pointing patriarch or priest behind him add a sense of movement to a scene that seems otherwise frozen in a moment of time. The catechumen preparing to follow Christ in baptism appears to be disrobing, which may be a sign that we too should put off sin, allow ourselves to be cleansed by Christ, and freely receive faith. Some critics give the less likely interpretation that he has already been baptised and is putting on the white clothes. If this is intended, it is a sign that we should now robe ourselves in the purity of the new life that Christ offers. Spiritually both interpretations are true, though which interpretation was intended by Piero is uncertain. Some mediaeval commentators associated baptism robes with bridal garments, representing our commitment to Christ. He may be intended to represent all of us, who are dependent on Christ for salvation and the future life.
Despite its complexity, like many of Piero’s works this painting appears to have a strong but quiet sense of harmony. The arrangement of the figures may intentionally be in harmonic proportion to each other. Though Christ and the dove of the Holy Spirit are represented centrally, all the other figures have been calculated to have been arranged according to mathematical sequence. The whole composition certainly appears to have been carefully worked out and calculated. Pouncing has been identified in the under-drawing of the figure of the angel, so it appears that Piero probably used cartoons in the preparation of most of the figures in the painting. They would have been drawn separately and transferred to the composition as part of the geometrical arrangement.
The number of figures seem to follow a mathematical sequence:
1 – Christ
2 – Christ and John
3 – Three angels (and possibly Christ, John and the believer behind them who is about to be joined in fellowship with Christ in baptism).
4 – Four elders in the background.
These figures are also spaced carefully in their groupings, according to harmonic proportions.
Several different geometric schemes have been suggested as the basis of the composition, which conform to Piero’s interest in mathematics and geometry and add to the symbolic meaning of the painting. Some of the more complex mathematical suggestions may be inventions of the imagination of the theorist, but the picture was definitely composed using strongly geometric principles. Unlike the Flagellation, no obvious geometry or straight lines of perspective are visible in the landscape setting, though the lines of the riverbank point towards Christ’s knees and the hills converge at Christ’s shoulders. But behind this, Piero seems to have regulated and ordered the composition according to a geometric system. The most obvious geometry includes:
The proportion of the panel of the height of the panel to its width is 3:2.
The proportions of the painting are partly based on the Italian standard ‘braccio’ measurement (a length of 58.36 cm. based on the proportions of a long forearm). Christ is 1.5 braccia tall; the panel is 2 braccia wide, the space on either side of Christ is 1 braccio. The panel is made of two planks, rather than the usual three. Both of these are 1 braccio wide.
It is based on a circle (symbolic of the heavens) and a square (symbolic of the created earth.
Christ’s height is exactly half of the panel’s overall height.
A vertical line bisects the composition, though the dove, John’s hand, Christ’s face and his feet.
Christ’s figure stands exactly at the vertical centre of the panel, with the central line bisecting his face, hands, navel and running down the inside of his vertical leg. (his other leg, contraposto, leans out slightly towards John.
A circle from the top of the panel to Christ’s loincloth bisects the square of the main panel to the springing of the arch.
Two equilateral triangles can be formed from the dove and the top edges of the square to Christ’s feet, or the base of the panel to John’s hand.
The dove of the Holy Spirit is the fulcrum of a circle formed by the top of the panel, John’s lower arm and Christ’s loincloth.
Further underlying geometry includes a circle with its fulcrum in the centre of Christ’s praying hands, and its radius as the top points of the square. In this can be inscribed an equilateral triangle through the dove and 5 and 15 sided polygons, which define the positions of different parts of the composition. Christ is framed within an equilateral triangle and his hands are joined at the bisecting point of the triangle. Euclid’s diagram of an equilateral pentagon superimposed on a triangle may have influenced Piero’s planning of the proportions of the painting. These forms were part of Euclid’s Proposition 16, Book 4 and represented some of the basic geometry thought to be behind God’s creation.
It is also possible to point to other more complicated potential geometry. The main intention of the mathematics and geometry was not for the artist to show his intellect. Its intention seems to have been to signify that beneath the coming of Christ to bring salvation was an ordered divine plan. Circles represented heavenly realm, the square was the earth, and the equilateral triangle represented both the Trinity and human interaction with God. The equilateral pentagon was identified with the five wounds of Christ. The Euclidian shapes demonstrated that this was in an historic, intellectual order that was used by God in forming and sustaining the entire cosmos. For Christians all creation, the events of history, and all that was happening in the heavenly spheres were working together towards God’s cosmic gift of Salvation.
Lavin takes the geometry even further by linking the Euclidian construction to ancient astrology and suggesting that Piero is symbolising that Christ is the centre of the zodiac and the creative centre of the universe. This painting, with all its mathematical and symbolic potential is not esoteric mysticism, however. Although the geometry and other mathematical ideas may be behind the composition, its meaning is apparent on the surface: Christ was being baptised on behalf of humanity and was giving his life for our salvation; he still intercedes for us in heaven, and our own baptismal vows are made in dedication to following his way.
FLAGELLATION OF CHRIST Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, Urbino.
c1458-60? (58.4 cm. x 81.5cm.)
Much of this unusual work remains a mystery. Like most of Piero’s works, dating is uncertain. Some regard it as a youthful work, others as a mature painting. There are some similarities of perspective in the Arezzo frescoes, the Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon. Its purpose is also uncertain, as it is such an unusual picture. It has been speculated by some that this may have been a panel from an altar or a decorative chest. At 58.4 x 81.5 cm. it is too small for a main altarpiece and too large to have been a panel for a predella. It could potentially have been a small panel for a private or portable altar, but as such the Flagellation would have been an unusual subject. The work is so carefully planned and painted that it must have originally held some important significance. Due to its theme, its patron may perhaps have been a member of a flagellant or ‘disciplinati’ confraternity. Jesus’ flagellation was usually represented as part of a series of Passion paintings. It was not usually a separate image. The small size of the flagellation group in relation to the monumental representation of the three figures in the foreground suggest that the subject represented by the figures must have had a further significance, of which we can no longer be certain. The innovation of splitting the image into two halves so prominently also seems to indicate that it had greater meaning than simply representing the whipping of Christ as a scene from his Passion.
The panel was first recorded in the cathedral at the hill-top town of Urbino in the 18th Century in documents of Ubaldo Tosi, abbot of Urbino, dated 1743 and c.1740-50. In the mid-19th Century it hung in the cathedral sacristy, but it was probably not initially commissioned for a cathedral, but setting. Some believe it was part of a larger altarpiece: for the Capella del Perdono in the palace at Urbino, or even part of the predella for the Montefeltro Altarpiece. Yet its precision and the sense of particular significance of the scene imply that it was possibly intended to be a one-off work for a special purpose, with a specific intended meaning. It may have been painted in Urbino, though several scholars suggest that as mentions of it have not been found in previous inventories, it must have been formerly in a place where it was less viewed or known. Various private homes or chapels have been suggested as its original setting. These include: the Cappella del Perdone in the Palazzo Ducale; the Studiolo of Federico da Montefeltro; or that it was kept as a funerary memorial to Oddantonio da Montefeltro. As we do not know anything of its original purpose or setting, all these are only surmises. It may only be coincidence that it ended up in Urbino Cathedral, and may have been created for other patrons in another town, even though its style seems to point to a period around that in which Piero was working for the Urbino court. It was transferred to the Palazzo Ducale in 1916.
The 1743 mention of it includes a frame. Having been removed at some time from the frame’s protection, the panel had warped by the late 19th century, but attempts to stabilise and restore it, by adding butterfly wedges in 1930, caused further damage, including three horizontal cracks through the panel, which damaged Christ’s face and other figures. Other areas were damaged by vandals.
Urbino’s recently promoted ruler, Federico de Montefeltro was an enemy of Piero’s former patron in Rimini, Sigismondo Malatesta, both were illegitimate and rivalled each other militarily and in their humanist learning and cultural ambitions. Federico was a supporter of Pope Martin V who intervened politically in his rise to power and declared him legitimate. As Federico does not appear in the painting he may not have been the patron of this commission, since there were plenty of wealthy humanists at the Urbino court. Some critics suggest that the subject may be linked to the assassination of his brother Oddantonio, in July 1444, which brought Federico to power.
The intention of the theme of the painting is uncertain. Its present title is based on the small scene in the middle-distance, of Jesus being whipped before Pilate in the Praetorium. The three large figures on the right of the panel seem like portraits, but have not been certainly identified, though many suggestions have been made. They seem to be discussing the Flagellation or some related subject, just as the three angels in the Baptism of Christ appear to be discussing the relevance of the baptism scene. The youngest figure has a similar face to one of the three angels. The figure in dark silk decorated with pineapple patterns is in clothes fashionable in Italy at the time.
This work is signed on the step of the throne of Pilate: OPUS PETRI DEBURGO S[AN]C[T]I SEPULCRI. It is also recorded as having once borne the inscription ‘Convenerunt in unum’ beside the three foreground figures, but this was wrongly removed during restoration in the late C19th. The phrase relates to Psalm 2:2 “The kings of the earth set themselves and the rulers take council together against the Lord and his anointed....”
Though a relatively small panel it was particularly carefully prepared, drawn out and painted with special materials, including lapis lazuli, so it was obviously regarded as a significant painting. The perspective was worked out, drawn and painted with such extreme precision that analysts have been able to reconstruct in detail the depth of the architectural setting. This does not appear to be so complicated and intricate in any other painting by Piero, even the Montefeltro Altatrpiece, with its similarly precise perspective. The marble pavement may be a specific reference to John’s Gospel ‘the judgement seat in the palace that is called the Pavement... in Hebrew Gabbatha’ [Jn.19:13]. But Piero has made this into far more complicatedly symbolic logia. Jesus stands at the centre of a white circle surrounded by a wider black circle, which is itself surrounded by a complex black and white tiled pattern of squares, lozenges and stars. Symbolically this may be intended to show that he is the pure one at the centre of a dark world, about to bring salvation to a cosmos corrupted by sin. Piero even appears to have worked out carefully the way that the buildings would be lit by natural light and cast shadows. He further illuminated the interior by a hidden window or ‘magical light’ source (depending on which analytical critic you read). Was this just the intellectual play of an artist fascinated by geometry and optics, or did it have some special significance? While the bays around Christ cast shadows, the ceiling of the bay immediately above Jesus is brightly lit. This helps to focus attention on the small scene, but it is probably also intended to indicate that we are viewing the suffering of ‘the Light of the World’. Piero painted an aura of golden rays around his head and the statue of the ‘sol invictus’ above his pillar also indicates that one who is greater than even heavenly light is here, suffering on behalf of the world. The light on the piazza and the three large figures comes from the left but is strongly augmented in the praetorium by the other interior light source from the right illuminating Christ and the scene around him.
Perspectival paintings of ideal cities with classical architecture were produced by several artists of the time, showing off the mastery of newly promoted rules of perspective. But they were not populated by such significant figures and religious scenes as in this work. A major difference between this picture and almost all other Renaissance images is the strict division of the picture plane into two distinct scenes by the colonnade of the portico. Piero used a similar division in his fresco of the Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon in Arezzo. As with the Baptism of Christ all the proportions in the painting appear to relate to each other. Various lengths have been proposed as the module on which the whole composition has been arranged: the height of Christ (17.8cm.), the ratio of one in ten to the size of columns in St. John Lateran, or the length of one of the foreground blocks of stone. The proportions seem to have been planned using the length of the black stone tile in the foreground. The dimension of the panel are seven times this length in height and ten units in width. Such intriguing correspondences are all within Piero’s capabilities as a mathematical master, but nothing is certain.
Many attempts have been made to identify the three figures in the foreground. Tosi’s manuscript describes them as “our lords”; a 1775 names them as “Dukes Guidobaldo, Federico and Oddo Antonio da Montefeltro”, but it may only have been tradition which had handed down these names. None of the images resemble Federico. One later portrait of Oddantonio resembles the younger figure, but it is thought that that might have been copied from Piero’s work. The bald figure seems to recur in the Polyptych of the Misericordia, which was painted for Borgo San Sepolcro rather than Urbino.
Several paintings of Christ’s flagellation include groups of onlookers. The group in the background of the flagellation in Pietro Lorenzetti’s fresco cycle in the Lower Church at Assisi contains a similar selection of costumes from various cultures to those of Piero. Though there is no firm evidence that Piero visited Assisi, it is probable that he did so at some time in his career; in any event, the iconography is similar to other representations of the scene which he would have seen. The figures appear to be considering something intently. The man on the left seems to be talking and gesticulating, the man on the right is listening, perhaps about to speak, the younger man gazes out at the viewer as though both listening and asking us to contemplate the message with him. They could be simply discussing Christ’s flagellation, but their dominance in the composition implies further meaning and intent. It has been proposed by many that they represent recent events or tragedies at the time of painting, for which Christ’s Passion might be seen as a parallel, or on which his sufferings shed the light of hope. However, there is no documentary evidence to prove any of the identifications and suppositions.
Of a few religious interpretations of the work, the wealthily-dressed, balding, clean-shaven, noble figure on the right has been suggested by some to represent Joseph or Arimathea, contending with a Jewish leader. Other commentators identify him as to a wealthy contemporary aristocrat disputing over contemporary issues. He stands with his thumbs in his belt, robed sumptuously in Western dress, perhaps velvet, decorated with what appear to be gold pomegranates or large thistle forms. The figure on the left wears Greek clothes like those represented in images of visitors from Constantinople, similar to those Piero would have witnessed at the Council of Florence. He may be trying to convince those from the west to come to the aid of Christendom which was in danger of falling in the East, by liberating the Christians there from Islamic dominance. His eyes look up and seem to be focusing his mind thoughtfully. His two-pointed beard is very un-Italian. It has been suggested that this may relate to astrology as the Italian term ‘Barba Nera’ (’black bearded one’) is an Italian term for an astrologer or ‘wise one’. But it is a feature often used by Piero to identify figures as ‘Eastern’. The more youthful central figure of the three is more simply dressed and barefoot. He stands contraposto, echoing, probably deliberately, the pose of Christ at the pillar. In several ways he is similar to Piero’s representations of angels in the Baptism of Christ and other later paintings. He has similar golden curled hair which flares out at the edges. His sad, thoughtful expression seems to look directly out beyond the scene to the viewer, or beyond into space, as in the painting of right-hand angel in the Baptism. Behind him tall dark trees (laurels?), make his face stand out and focus attention on his expression.
There is a similar group of three, including a figure similar to Piero’s in Bellini’s drawing of the Flagellation, so it may relate to some specific iconography or to a contemporary issue that is lost to us or has yet to be discovered. None of the many suggestions made by different scholars about the identity and meaning of these three figures are entirely convincing, particularly as we do not know the precise date of the panel or its patron, setting, use or intention, so it is impossible to be sure to which of many contemporary events it might carry allusions or associations. What is undeniable is that the picture obviously had a particular significance when it was painted or commissioned.
One suggestion is that the scene is set in Urbino: The praetorium is suggested to have been the architecture of the earlier version of the Ducal Palace before its expansion, and the buildings beyond are theoretically identified as the town square, the Palazzo del Podestà and the campanile of the Romanesque cathedral. The barefoot youth has been suggested to be Oddantonio di Montifeltro, short-lived legitimate ruler of Urbino, who was assassinated after a plot on 22nd July 1444. The two other figures have been suggested to be Oddantonio’s false councillors Manfredo del Pio and Tommasso dell’Agnello, who were traitorous ministers. Others suggest that they could be Count Guidoantonio and John Palaeologus III the Emperor of Constantinople, who were part of the dynasty. Alternatively they have been suggested to be Oddantonio’s adversaries Serafini and Riccarelli. If any of these identifications are the case, the painting may be comparing the fate of Oddantonio to the sufferings of Christ.
Aronberg Lavin suggests the setting as Mantua and identifies the man with short receding hair is Ludovico Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua as this closely resembles his bust attributed to Donatallo (Staatliche Museum, Berlin-Dalheim). Ottavio Ubaldini della Carda has been suggested as the identity of the bearded man. He was Federico Montefeltro’s nephew and prime minister in Urbino, which had strong political, financial and personal links with Mantua at the time. Ludovico Gonzaga and Ottavio Ubaldini had trained together, corresponded throughout their lives and shared humanist scholarly aspirations. Ottavio’s fascination with astrology might be why he is robed as a sage or magus, suggesting his insight into the portentous events of the scene. Both had recently been bereaved: Ottavio of his son and heir in 1458. Ludovico’s favourite nephew had been crippled and disfigured by disease. It has been suggested that this panel represents their shared grief, and a search for consolation in Christ’s understanding of their sufferings. The idealised youth standing between them could be a representation of the youths they both had lost, made whole through Christ’s sufferings. The laurel tree behind his head might allude to this allegorically, just as the statue of the ‘sol invictus’ above the pillar of Christ alludes to his victory over sin, death and darkness.
The young man has been suggested by a few others to represent Guidobaldo Montefeltro, but he was only born in 1472. The painting could potentially be a celebration of the birth of Guidobaldo, but there seems little reason for connecting such a celebration with Christ’s flagellation. The young man resembles a figure in the Gonzaga court painted prominently by Mantegna c1464 in the frescoes of the Camera degli Sposi, Palazzo Ducale, Mantua. But he also feels idealised, with similar features and hair to angels painted by Piero in several paintings: the Baptism, Montefeltro Altarpiece, Senigallia Madonna, Nativity, perhaps even the angels in the Madonna del Parto.
Other commentators have attempted to identify the figures variously with King David, a doctor of the law, Cardinal Besarion (Giovanni Bacci), a Venetian senator or procurer/procurator being presented with their sash of honour, John VIII Palaeologus, Filippo Maria Visconti, Francesco Sforza, Mohammad II who had deposed the Palaeologus dynasty, Buonconte da Montefeltro, Jacopo degli Anastagi (also represented in the Polyptych of the Misericordia, the Legend of the True Cross and the Venice St. Jerome) . It may be dangerous therefore to try to interpret the painting’s political or personal connotations too precisely, as this may direct our understanding away from its true original intention.
Others read a spiritual narrative into the figures, without directly identifying them with contemporaries, though the outer two figures definitely appear to be portraits of specific people: One theory suggests that the three figures represent the conspiracy of the Sanhedrin against Christ, as they refused to enter the praetorium in order to remain ritually clean, [Jn.18:28]. Herod has been suggested to be the turbaned figure in the praetorium, watching Christ, with his back to us and the three figures were suggested to be (from left to right) a Gentile, a soldier and Joseph of Arimathea. Others relate the scene to the repentance of Judas returning the money to the conspirators, though no money-bag is represented as would be common in iconography of the scene. Other commentators suggested that the three figures are personifications of the heresies of those who have conspired together against Christ through time – Jews, Gentiles or pagans and princely leaders, or that the figures are the chief priest and a secular elder surrounding the young man, who is Christ. These two interpretations would make sense of the inscription ‘converunt in unum’, which had been wrongly removed from the panel during restoration. But the latter interpretation seems highly unlikely, as the figure is so unlike the bearded figure of Jesus being whipped in the distance. It has been suggested that this spiritual interpretation was intended as an encouragement to holiness in the Catholic Holy Year of 1450. It has further been related to a sermon by St. John Capistran, who was known as ‘the scourge of the Jews’. He maintained the Franciscan contemporary suspicion of the Jews, since the Franciscans were defenders of the sacred sites in the Holy Land.
Other commentators convincingly relate this group to Pope Pius II’s Council of Mantua called in 1459 to discuss preparations to protect Christendom and launch a crusade against the Turks who had conquered Constantinople in 1453. The rise of the Turkish Empire was threatening the Eastern Mediterranean. Further evidence for this more common interpretation seems to be offered by the figure of a turbaned man in Arab dress, with his back to us, before Pilate’s judgement seat and watching the flagellation. Kenneth Clark identified the figure of the enthroned Pilate watching over the flagellation as a portrait of John Paleologus III, the Emperor in the East and suggested that the bearded figure was his brother Thomas who had been a delegate at the 1459 Council of Mantua and visited Rome in 1461. The figures have been alternatively proposed to be Caterino Zeno and other Urbino politicians involved in the Mantua Council.
Whatever the specific interpretation of these three figures, their prominence in the composition demonstrates that they obviously have some contemporary relevance. They encourage us to consider the relevance of Christ’s sufferings to those of our present day, whether it be illness, loss, suffering or political or world events.
The setting is a Renaissance interpretation of ‘classical’ architecture, perhaps attempting to imagine the historical Roman architecture of Jerusalem. The division of the room where Christ is being punished is, however, very similar to the arrangement in many early 14th Century representations of the Flagellation, with pillars, panelled ceiling and a patterned pavement. Piero has classicised it, setting Christ’s passion in what he thought that the past might have looked like. The staircase in the background, behind Pilate’s throne, is an innovation. Compositionally it balances the angle of Pilate’s legs and hand; it leads the eye towards Christ. The staircase may relate to stairs that Jesus was said to have fallen down during the way of the Passion: the ‘Scala Santa’, a set of 28 steps in a building near San Giovanni in Lateran, which had been supposed in legend to have been rescued and brought to Rome from Pilate’s house by the Empress Helena. Christ’s trial, flagellation and sufferings are shown to be happening in the historic past yet are in some way being related to some suffering or theological or social debate in the artist’s contemporary time.
A few critics suggest that the flagellation may not be that of Christ at all, though I am not convinced by their arguments. Some relate it to the vision of St. Jerome, who represented his being flagellated as a metaphor for his intellectual struggle and being whipped before the throne of heaven for his dedication to pagan literature. According to this interpretation the three figures could be discussing philosophically the relative values and parallels between Christian, Latin and Greek thinking and literature, or the merits of different philosophical traditions. To my mind, this interpretation is unreasonable, as the iconography of the flagellation section of the panel is so close to the iconography of Christ’s Flagellation in many earlier Late-Mediaeval and Renaissance paintings. It is particularly close to image of Christ’s Flagellation on the predella of the Resurrection altarpiece from the main church in Sansepolcro (now in the Pinacoteca, Palazzo dei Priori, Sansepolcro). Piero must have known that painting well, though his own representation is more static and quiet. Only one soldier raises his hand. The other merely touches Christ’s back.
The main figures are painted in a variety of harmonious colours. Alberti’s treatise had discussed the harmony and ‘sympathy’ of colour combinations, so their robes may be intended to indicate more about the figures than we can now decipher. However the contemporary writer Lorenzo Valla had warned against giving too much meaning and dignity to the use of colour.
The golden classical statue of the ‘sol invictus’, surmounting the pillar to which Christ is bound, has also been related to the idea of the victory of right and truth, in preparation of a crusade. The flagellated Christ, the young man central to the three figures and the statue of the ‘sol invictus’ all stand contraposto, which might imply that they share significance.
Just looking at the surface 2-dimensional pattern of the rectangles that form the composition one recognises that there must be some mathematical relationship between them. In the Baptism of Christ the figures were arranged according to harmonic order, within sacred geometrical shapes. The grouping and spacing of figures throughout the Flagellation might accord with a similar harmonic progression. There may be some similar but more complex significance here. As the perspective of the painting is so carefully worked-out, the mathematical connections between the various rectangles of the composition may also be carefully arranged. In Piero’s treatises he used mathematical calculations to explain the intervals between elements as they recede in perspective. The scaling and arrangement of the architectural elements in this panel is most probably based on similar calculations. Amid the chaos of Christ’s flagellation and Passion, and the chaos of contemporary world events, the quietness of the painting may imply that God can bringing a perfect order, peace and beauty to difficult situations.
One might expect a painting of Christ’s Flagellation or any scene from the life of Jesus to focus primarily on the religious scene itself. However, the various interpretations of Piero’s painting remind us that the major aim of scripture is not to recall or relieve a scene. We are meant to be working out the relevance of scripture to our present lives so that we can apply its teachings and principles to contemporary needs.
LEGEND OF THE TRUE CROSS Chancel, San Francesco, Arezzo. 1452 -1466
Arezzo is twenty miles from Sansepolcro. Several important Italian cultural figures had originated there: Petrarch, Leonardo Bruni (the humanist Chancellor of Florence).
The main central chapel, ‘Capella Maggiore’, which these frescoes adorn, was added to the body of the Franciscan Church of San Francesco between 1366 and 1374, financed by donations from Bartolomeo do Pietramala and Pagno di Maffeo. However, within 30 years, the patronage of the chapel was taken over by another family. The rich spice merchant Baccio di Maso Bacci bought the patronage, though his family were buried in a crypt beneath the nave. He made stipulations in his will, dated 1408, for the chapel should be decorated. This was delayed partly through the Bacci family failing to begin the commission or provide for it, and in 1410, due to another rival patron, Lazzaro di Giovanni di Feo Bracchi, wishing to be buried in the chapel and dedicating a mural and glass window there. (‘Bracchi’ and ‘Bacci’ are separate families, though it is easy to confuse their names.) The Franciscans agreed to this, probably because Lazzaro was prior of a confraternity based in the church, but the Bacci family eventually consolidated their patronage and Baccio Bacci provided money for the glass window as well as the frescoes before he died in 1417. (Lazzaro, who died in 1425, was buried in Sta. Maria della Pieve in Arezzo instead.) In 1427 Bacci’s son Francesco estimated that his proportion of finance for the painting of the chapel would be 400 to 600 florins. By 1447 Baccio di Maso Bacci’s heirs Francesco Bacci and Agnolo di Girolamo Bacci and Andrea di Tomasso raised the money for the decoration through the sale of a vineyard. Vasari was himself married into the Bacci family, so one might have expected his information about it to be fairly accurate, but his account of the commission includes several mistakes, including the name of the patron of the frescoes. The importance assigned to the frescoes may be judged by the fact that a tomb in the chapel of the Blessed Sergondi was moved, to make room for Piero’s fresco of the Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes.
The Florentine painter Bicci di Lorenzo had been commissioned to begin the paintings though his style was fairly traditional and old-fashioned. He and his workshop assistants had begun work on the frescoes in 1448 and completed the Last Judgement on the exterior arch which faced Baccio di Maso Bacci’s tomb, as well as frescoes of saints and doctors of the Church on part of the arch at the entrance to the chapel and the Four Evangelists in the vaults. The Last Judgement was probably completed early, as the scaffolding for it must have made access to the chapel difficult for celebration of the daily Mass. Bicci di Lorenzo seems to have fallen seriously ill soon afterwards. He was already over 60 years and returned to Florence to recuperate, but died there in 1452. Bicci had assisted Domenico Veneziano in Florence, on the frescoes for St. Egidio at the same time as Piero, so it may have been through this connection that Piero was considered to complete the commission. Domenico himself had been working in Arezzo in 1450.
We do not know exactly when Piero was first called in to work on the frescoes, as no commissioning documents survive. He may have been already called to assist shortly after Bicci had fallen ill, or after the older painter’s departure for Florence. We know that Piero’s work on the frescoes was in phases, before and after his visit to Rome in 1458-9 and it was completed by 1466. Most of the painting was probably done from 1459, after Agnolo di Girolamo Bacci, nephew of the patron and one of the heirs who had raised the money for the work, had been elected prior of San Francesco in 1458. The family seems to have continued to default on payment, as Piero sued the heirs for payment as late as 1473 and 1486, nine then twenty years after the completion of the frescoes.
The cycle of paintings is arranged over three storeys, with each of the main scenes about 11ft. high by 27ft. wide. The theme follows the legendary stories of the wood of Christ’s Cross from the time of Adam to the power of the Cross at work in the military victories of the Byzantine Empire. Surprisingly no altarpiece is mentioned as a focus in the chapel, until later in the 16th Century, but the frescoes may have been considered sufficient focus for the devout. Their themes are, in chronological order:
The Death of Adam (Upper tier, right lunette)
The Adoration of the Holy Wood & Solomon Receiving the Queen of Sheba (2nd tier right)
The Annunciation (1st tier, left of the altar)
The Burial of the Holy Wood (2nd tier right of the altar)
The Vision of Constantine (1st tier, right of the altar)
The Victory of Constantine over Maxentius (1st tier, right)
The Torture of Judas the Jew (2nd tier, left of the altar)
The Discovery and Proof of the True Cross (2nd tier, left)
Veneration of the True Cross (Upper tier, left)
The Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes II (1st tier)
In addition Piero and his assistants also added single figures of saints within the chapel, adding to a programme of saints begun by Bicci di Lorenzo and his workshop: Newly painted saints included: Augustine, Ambrose, John the Evangelist, Bernardino and St. Louis.
The story follows the narrative of the supposed history of the wood, which formed the Cross on which Christ was to die, to the early miracles performed by the wood after the discovery of the buried Cross. Whether one believes the tales of the finding of the Cross and the miracles that accompanied it, or not, (I believe that it to be a complete invention), it is an important subject in the development of late Byzantine and medieval spirituality. It represents a vision of the triumph of faith through time towards a universal Christianity.
The link between Christ’s Cross and all Christians is significant, but perhaps was considered especially so to the Franciscans for whom these images were painted, due to their founder’s conversion through the Cross of San Damiano and his devotion to the crucifix. Francis was said to have received the stigmata on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, Sept. 14th, 1224, which gave extra emphasis to the penultimate scene in the series. The Franciscans were both caretakers of the relics and holy sites of the Holy Land and custodians of many of the chronicles, myths and anecdotes associated with the area and of the Cross. The Golden Legend, which had been compiled by the Dominican, Jacobus de Voragine, was widely known across all religious orders. It was one of the most popular volumes in the late middle ages and became the source for the majority of paintings of holy subjects and the lives of saints. The stories included in Piero’s series of images from the Legend of the True Cross all appear to be sourced from the Golden Legend.
The Franciscan community in Arezzo was believed, according to Franciscan traditions, to have been founded in 1211 after St Francis expelled demons that he saw battling in the sky above the town. The recently canonised Franciscan, St Bernardino of Siena, was also supposed to have destroyed pagan ritual at a local well, the Fonte Tecta, dating back to Roman times. The community venerated the local 13th Century friar, evangelist and missionary Benedetto Singardi (c1190-1282) who was interred in the Church. He had taken his monastic vows under Francis himself and his virtues and holiness were said to be comparable to those of Francis. Benedetto had been appointed Provincial Minister in the Marches of Ancona in 1217, then Provincial Masters in the Holy Land from 1221. He had then been based in Antioch and Constantinople and had been involved in papal negotiations for the uniting of the Greek and Latin Church between 1232-4. This was a prefiguration of the deliberations of the Council of Florence, which Piero had witnessed. This veneration of Benedetto Singardi may well have helped in the choice of the Legend, with Eastern connections as the theme for the frescoes. It also emphasised the importance of keeping the Holy Land in Christian hands, since it was under threat from the Turks and Islamic domination at this time. Benedetto Singardi was known to have regularly emphasised the role of the Cross in his preaching and was reputed to have worked miracles under its sign. According to local legends, included in Nanni d’Arezzo’s Life and Miracles of Blessed Sinigardi, he had been associated with miracles like the healing and conversion of a noble Saracen woman through the sign of a cross, was supposedly protected by an angel in the form of a dragon while on pilgrimage to Babylon to visit the tomb of the Prophet Daniel and his body was claimed to have calmed the seas on his posthumous return to Arezzo. He was also said to have been responsible for the investiture of John of Brienne as King of Jerusalem and later the Emperor of Constantinople, giving spiritual advice and counsel. All these stories linked him with the sites of scenes in the Legend of the Cross. His reverence of the Virgin Mary may also have contributed to the inclusion of the theme of the Annunciation in Piero’s frescoes. In 1441, the Benedictines had attempted to gain control of the religious sites in Holy Land, but the Franciscan’s administration had been reinforced. The focus of the frescoes on the sites and legends of the Holy Land must have reiterated the link with the Franciscans, and celebrated their continued responsibilities.
This Franciscan church in Arezzo may have commissioned the series of frescoes to emulate the famous fresco cycles in its mother- basilica at Assisi. Like Assisi it had an upper and lower church and the same dedications for its various altars: Mary, St Michael, St Francis, and the Crucifixion. The representation of the Legend of the True Cross as a pictorial cycle is rare. It is represented in a few illuminated manuscripts and fresco cycles. Cenni di Francesco painted a series in the Franciscan church in Voltera (1410), Masolino in the Augustinian church of St. Stefano in Empoli (1427) and a fragment of Parri di Spinello’s frescoes of the subject survive in the Pinacoteca in Arezzo, which Piero would no doubt have seen in the church there. Most famously, Piero may have known the fresco cycle by Agnolo Gaddi, painted between 1388-93 in the Chancel of the Franciscan church of Santa Croce in Florence, or those frescoes may have inspired delegates from Arezzo to the Franciscan General Chapter, which met in Santa Croce in 1449. There had been long-term rivalry between Florence and Arezzo for several centuries and although the Franciscan friars should have been more united, there was still rivalry between different groups of the Order. Feelings between Florence and Arezzo were particularly strained at the time since as, after a French invasion, Florence had purchased Arezzo from the victorious French in 1385 and Arezzo had lost its autonomy of rule. The city was still ruled by a Florentine governor until more than a century after Piero’s frescoes.
Piero’s frescoes surpassed those in Florence by Gaddi, which are brilliant, though more disordered in arrangement and contain far more figures. The probability that Piero had seen them is confirmed by his own images reflecting some details in Gaddi’s works. But Piero managed to give greater unity to the disordered narratives of the legend. He omitted certain scenes, particularly the Conversion of Judas the Jew, The Healing of the Sick by Contact with the Sacred Wood, and The Fabrication of the Cross, though he refers to them in parts of his work. He also simplified the format from the separate framed scenes of Gaddi’s representation , by dividing the tiers with heavy architectural mouldings painted in trompe-l’oeil, and not vertically framing each individual scene. He reduced the number of figures from those of Gaddi to create more ordered individual scenes as well as creating a sense that they all form a compositional whole. He created the idea of a coherent perspective in the scenes. Whatever tier the image is on, the scene is represented as though we are viewing it on eye level. This makes all the scenes feel at one within the space of the chapel. Mostly the scenic depth and perspective is relatively shallow, with the figures arranged in a similar way to a sculpted frieze. It is primarily the aerial perspective created by cooler colours, which creates the sense of depth. Within the space Piero also arranged the colours of robes and scenic elements to create a coherent balance and patterning around the walls. The repeated use of several figures in various guises, partly by reusing cartoons in drawing them, also adds to the sense of unity through the fresco cycle. Similarly some vertical elements in the compositions appear to run vertically into other vertical elements in the scenes above or below, visually connecting them.
The scenes are not represented on the walls in strictly chronological order, nor can they be read simply from left to right. The story reads from right of the top lunette downwards, then from left to right of the middle tier on the left hand wall down to the lower tier, before finishing in the upper lunette of the left-hand wall. Scenes with similar themes are paralleled or paired on the left and right walls of the chapel: In the 2nd tier are represented scenes where the sacredness of the wood of the Cross was recognised. The upper tier illustrates the origin of the holy wood and its veneration. In the 1st tier, nearest the level of the viewer, are the Annunciation with Constantine’s vision. The 1st tier frescoes on the side walls represent scenes of victory over paganism which were achieved by God’s power through the Cross. In addition to these scenes are the ‘cloud of witnesses’ to the power of the Cross: figures of saints in the jambs of the entrance arch, which were part of Bicci di Lorenzo’s initial plan: Fathers of the Church in niches, the figure of the Christian virtue of ‘Love’. Peter Martyr and the Archangel Michael represent the need for fighting against the enemies of Christianity. (The Archangel Michael was traditionally associated with Constantine, who was in legend reputed to have founded the monastery of Mont-San Michel.) Two prophets, thought to be Jeremiah and Ezekiel are also represented in the on the altar wall. The Annunciation scene is not usually included in the themes of the Legend of the True Cross, nor is the actual crucifixion of Christ. The latter is not present in the frescoes, but is represented on the monumental Cross hanging within the chancel arch and encountered in the Mass commemorated daily at the altar in the chapel.
An essential unity is created by the linking or paralleling of subjects: The promise of future salvation is revealed after Adam’s death to the family / the Cross where Salvation was won is revealed to the people of Jerusalem who kneel in veneration at the bringing of the gift of eternal life. The Queen of Sheba bows to the wood and reveres Solomon / the Empress Helena reveres the advice of the Jew Judas and bows before the true Cross. Constantine defeats Maxentius / Heraclius is victorious over Chosroes. On the altar wall the wood is buried / Judas is raised from a well. Constantine receives the sign of the Cross in an annunciation from an angel / Mary receives the annunciation of the coming of Christ. There are also vertical pairings or symmetries, which are not perhaps so obvious: On the right wall the size of Cross diminishes as one’s eye moves downward from a tree and branch to a beam of wood, to a small hand-held object, all containing the same miraculous power. On the right wall we move downward from the Cross held upright in triumph, behind which is the Tree of Life, to a thinner Cross, held out diagonally and bringing healing and reviving life, to a smaller form of the same Cross positioned directly below the healing Cross, proclaiming judgement and death on the infidel, Another white cross as a symbol is raised victoriously on a banner. These crosses bring both death and life. Some commentaries suggest that the three tiers may represent three phases of human history: the Patriarchs, royal and civic life and military activity. Less convincingly the scenes on the right have been suggested to refer to people and events under grace, those on the left to those under the law. Piero had probably not devised this pairing alone: the intellectual decisions over subjects would have been part of the patrons’ commissioning process and later changes made by the institution. The parallels or reflections of subjects are not just about drawing parallels between similar subjects. They imply the idea that God’s working can be seen in patterns through time. The inclusion of the final battle scene may not have been decided unti1 1456, the year of the Battle of Belgrade, which also took place on the Danube, where Heraclius had defeated Chosroes II.
The frescoes are mostly in ‘fresco buon’ (true fresco painted into wet plaster, though ‘fresco seco’ (painting over dry plaster) was used in places, especially where Piero was adding touches or detail to his work. Chemical analysis during restoration shows that Piero innovated by mixing his pigments with oils, casein or egg. The false marble ‘sockle’ or band dividing the panels was painted after the panels were completed.
The commission for a series of paintings recounting the legend of the True Cross could be regarded for the Franciscan church as much as a political statement or propaganda as being for religious or devotional purposes. In many ways the themes of the frescoes promoted the importance of maintaining the influence of the community at Arezzo, the Franciscans, and their political importance within the Christian Church. The theme emphasised the Byzantine discovery of the Cross and was politically as well as spiritually significant at the time: Constantine’s mother Helena had reputedly discovered the burial place of Christ’s Cross while on pilgrimage, searching for relics of Christ. Constantinople had been founded and built upon a Christian heritage and the survival of its Christian communities and the maintenance of the faith was seen as a priority. Constantinople had recently fallen to the Ottoman Turks in 1453, and they were in danger of moving West towards the Baltic area and Italy, threatening Venice particularly. Popes Eugenius IV and Pius II attempted to launch defensive crusades between 1448 -1464 and the banners of these crusades may be alluded to in the banners represented in the battle scenes in the frescoes. Since their early foundation the Franciscans, for whose church in Arezzo the frescoes commissioned, were the official protectors of the Holy Land, by papal decree. Francis himself had visited Antioch in 1219, and encouraged mission to the Holy Land. He had preached Christianity to the Saracens and won conversions. Arezzo felt a close connection to St. Francis. Their legends included Francis battling with demons flying above Arezzo. The recently canonised Franciscan saint Bernardino had conquered suspicion through the sign of the Cross and the local Franciscan saint Benedetto Sinigardi had converted Saracens through preaching about the Cross.
All these past Franciscan references encouraged the drawing of parallels between the contemporary vulnerable situation in the Middle East and ancient battles and struggles for the defence and promotion of Christendom which were included in the frescoes. Though Francis had become a man of peace after his military youth, many 15th Century Franciscans supported crusades and promoted the military defence of Christendom through their preaching. The Bacci family who paid for the commission gained their wealth through the spice and pharmaceutical trade. Much of their spice was sourced through the East, and freedom of trade was endangered and made more expensive by the discord. So the frescoes’ themes, which included both Eastern scenes and miraculous healing, were appropriate to the patrons’ commercial interests and aspirations, as well as the threat to their trade. The theme was also particularly relevant as Arezzo claimed that it had been the first city to convert to Christianity in 325 C.E. after Constantine declared Christianity as the official religion of the Empire. The scene of the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in which, under the sign of the Cross, Constantine won control of the Empire led to him acknowledging Christianity as the Imperial religion. This scene emphasised the importance of fighting to maintain truth. The scene of the Battle of Heraclius against the Persians reinforced the importance of the Christian fight against heresy and was seen as a parallel for the present threat from the spread of the Ottoman Empire. At the time of the planning of the frescoes (around 1446), the Florentine consul at Constantinople was a citizen of Arezzo, Giovanni Marsuppini.
The great cycles of paintings by Giotto in the order’s headquarters at Assisi may have influenced the Franciscans to commission this cycle. Francis himself was legendarily supposed to have received a vision outside the city of Arezzo. So perhaps the Franciscans of Arezzo were reinforcing their significance as a community by commissioning a cycle to complement (or rival) those of Assisi. In the 1440s, at the time of the first commissioning of the Arezzo frescoes there was much internal political rivalry within the Franciscan Order between the ‘Observants’, who, like St. Bernardino of Siena, followed Francis’s original ascetic and peripatetic aims for the Order, and the ‘Conventuals’ who followed a rule that had been amended over time, and did not demand strict poverty. The Observants took over the Franciscan church of Borgo San Sepolcro through a papal bill of 1445. The friars of Arezzo belonged to the Conventuals as did the friars at Santa Croce, Florence, who had commissioned the earlier Franciscan cycle of the Legend of the True Cross by Agnolo Gaddi. Discord between the two interpretations of the Order had disturbed the General Chapter when they met in Padua in 1443. So when the General Chapter met again in 1449 it was deliberately divided: The Conventuals met in Santa Croce and the Observants’ meeting was held in nearby Mugello. It may have been at this Chapter of Conventuals that the friars of Arezzo had time to particularly study Gaddi’s recently completed cycle of paintings of the Legend of the True Cross and consolidated the programme for the Arezzo cycle.
The emphasis on the Cross was something which both the Conventuals and Observants shared, so there is a possibility that the friars of Arezzo, who traced their foundation to the time of St Francis and his disciple Beato Benedetto, intended the theme to be a unifying factor. Contemporary popes had attempted to promote Franciscan unity, through emphasising the traditional subject of Franciscan mission and preaching. Francis had particularly encouraged his brothers to promote the Cross and convert non-believers to faith in Christ through it.
The themes of the cycle were largely found in the Dominican Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend, with its stories of the lives of the saints. On two feast days in May and September this popular mediaeval book described the history of the wood of the Cross from the death of Adam to the miracles performed after its rediscovery by Helena, mother of Constantine. The Golden Legend does not describe the scenes in exactly chronological order, which may account for the strange ordering of the scenes upon the walls of the chapel. Gaddi’s frescoes in Santa Croce, Florence, are even more disordered; while Piero formed them into a visually reasonable arrangement.
When working in Rimini, Piero may have seen the two large Flemish tapestries of the Life of Charlemagne in the collection of the Malatestas, which are possibly a source for some of the imagery in the cycle. An architect working on the chapel in Arezzo, Agostino di Duccio, had earlier worked in Ravenna. (He had been involved in Sigismondo di Malatesta’s stripping of marble from the church of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe). Agostino’s memories of the Procession of the Empress Theodora in the Ravenna frescoes may have influenced Piero’s depiction of the Procession of the Queen of Sheba, though Piero will not have seen these, so did not know of the frontality of the Ravenna figures.
For many years the scenes of the Legend were in bad condition. It had been damaged and repaired after an earthquake in 1483. Metal stays and cramps which had been used to stabilise the walls corroded, causing areas of lost plaster; salts, rust and fugitive pigments have damaged some areas of colour as well as altering the pigmentation and tonal contrasts. Prior to more recent restoration much of the damage to these frescoes was caused by Napoleon’s troops, who used the figures for target practice after invading the town. Their destructivity may have been encouraged by the size or nature of the figures, which were considered ‘primitive’, or just military disdain and high spirits. In Franz Kruger’s Handbook of the History of Painting (1837) the Arezzo frescoes were described as “now almost ruined”. It is therefore thanks to the sensitivity of restorers and stabilisers that so much of the images are now able to be appreciated.
The Death of Adam
The depiction of this subject is rare in art. It is set in a grove of palms and fruit trees, reminding us of borders of the Edenic garden which Adam and Eve legendarily lost through sin. Adam is represented as an old and emaciated naked man, reclining in front of his clothed wife, who supports his head. His pose reflects a common iconographic pose for the Creation of Adam. He seems to be giving instructions to three of his semi-clad offspring who look on deep in thought. The oldest son, bending forward to hear his father’s words, probably represents Seth, the elder son after Abel and Cain. In the Golden Legend, Adam was said to have instructed Seth to return to Eden and request ‘a few drops of oil from the Tree of Mercy’ that would bring an end to human punishment for sin and from which the gift of eternal life could grow. This is probably the scene depicted in the middle distance, where the elderly man is speaking to the Archangel Michael who guards the entrance to Eden. The expression of the angel is stern as he was telling Seth in the legend that the time for reconciliation through salvation had not yet come. However, he offered Seth a branch of sacred wood from the Tree of Mercy in the garden, which would be the source of salvation. Another version of the Legend, related in Honorius’ Imagine Mundi’, tells that the archangel gave Seth a kernel or seed, but this would not have been as visually effective as the branch. By the time Seth returned his father had died so he planted the branch over Adam’s grave. One aspect of the story, not in the Golden Legend, claims that the branch was planted in Adam’s mouth, which had been the cause of the curse of sin, when he ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
In the second half of the mural Seth plants the source of eternal life, which will grow to form the wood which is the subject of the narrative in the cycle of frescoes. The future promise of life in that wood seems to be symbolised by the enormous tree in the background of the two scenes.
In front of the dying Adam a young naked man, seen from behind, leans on a staff, which may relate to this branch. The prominence of his branch helps to focus emphasis upon the wood from which the Cross will come, as well as providing a linear emphasis to the composition. His pose may derive from the iconography of mourning figures in classical statuary and ceramics. This is also similar to mediaeval iconography of the figure of the younger Adam resting on his spade. A female descendent is clad in a black animal skin. This hides her nakedness, but the black skin and the apprehension on her face as she looks out at us, suggests that she recognises that she has inherited Original Sin through Adam and Eve.
The Burial of Adam
The linked, more damaged scene on the upper tier represents Adam’s burial, surrounded by Adam’s large family. Seth plants the branch over Adam’s grave. The whole composition of the two scenes is dominated by a huge tree which fills the arch of the lunette. This tree, which balances the emphasis on the form of the Cross in the opposite lunette, originally must have appeared more full of life than is visible today. Infra-red lighting reveals that it was formerly covered with coloured leaves and sprouting buds, which have degenerated over time. The legend relates that at the point of Adam and Eve’s Fall, the Tree of Life withered and blackened. However when the Archangel Michael promised future salvation to Seth, the tree was said to have regenerated and bloomed. The huge tree possibly represents this aspect of the legend, as well as future promise of the Tree of Life in Revelation 22, which will offer healing to the nations. It also suggests a family tree of enormous generations that will arise from Adam’s seed and share in the blessings of the promise in the wood, as well as disseminating the curse of Original Sin. This was an allegorical feature that was used by Franciscans in their preaching of the message of Original Sin and the way of redemption.
Although the figure of Eve dramatically stretches her hands in expressive grief, there are several signs of hope in this painting. Her arms reflect the stretch of the branches of the enormous tree. Sin will in time be resolved to bring about the promise of salvation. On the extreme left a youthful figure dressed in white speaks to a man robed in black. They seem posed to suggest that they have heard the promise of salvation and recognise the presence of hope. In the foreground, watching the scene, is the only figure in brightly coloured robes of blue and red, the colours of heaven and human flesh. This may represent Christ, though he is unbearded, or a significant saint recognising the promise of salvation in the stories.
The scenes of Adam’s death are partly linked with the theme of the Annunciation fresco: The date of the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25th, was believed in legend to be the date on which Adam was born and also the date on which he died. It was also considered to have been the date of Christ’s Crucifixion. In the Annunciation scene, Mary is being offered a palm branch by the archangel, which was, again according to popular legend, a gift brought from the Garden of Eden, from which humanity had so far been exiled, but which Mary’s ‘Immaculate Conception’ allowed her to receive. Her son’s birth would reopen the promise of Paradise to the believer and regain eternal life, symbolised by the evergreen leaf of the palm and the tree of life dominating the Adam fresco.
Adoration of the Holy Wood
The Queen of Sheba is represented in blue, the colour of Mary, of whom she may be intended to be a type of the wise woman. Representative of the gentile world she came in humility to seek further wisdom. Her pose in praying before the Holy Wood at the centre of the scene, is almost the iconographic pose of the angel of the Annunciation.
According to the legend, the tree growing from Adam’ grave grew so profusely and beautifully that Solomon ordered that it should be felled for his majestic palace. The wood was found to have supernatural properties. In whatever way the planks were cut, they continued to alter in size. In frustration, King Solomon had them formed into a bridge across the Pool of Siloam over which The Queen of Sheba was to cross as she came seeking the wisdom of Solomon. As she approached, she recognised the sanctity of the wood of the bridge and knelt in veneration. In Piero’s fresco the beam of wood is positioned directly below the burial of Adam, visually linking the two subjects The queen prophesied to Solomon in a letter that “upon this tree would be hanged the man whose death would put an end to the Kingdom of the Jews.”
The queen’s retinue include grooms with horses and several women in brightly coloured, high-fashion robes. They all have serious expressions on their faces, as they approach, seeking truth and wisdom. All the figures have elegant proportions, presenting them as perfect representatives of human beings. In this section of the fresco the queen is robed in brown, with a blue cloak lined with white. It indicates that this is her woollen travelling dress, which is replaced in the adjacent scene with her royal white robe. The two grooms accompanying the queen wear broad brimmed hats of travellers.
Solomon Receives the Queen of Sheba
To the right of the approach of Sheba Piero depicted Solomon receiving her in his palace. The story originated in 2Chron.9:3.] This scene is hardly mentioned in detail in the Golden Legend, nor is it represented in Agnolo Gaddi’s cycle in Santa Croce, but is significant in terms of Christ’s mention of it in the Gospels [Matt.12:42; Lk.11:31]. The theme of their meeting was also seen as a parallel with the Adoration of the Magi. It was seen as a prefiguration of the acceptance of Christ’s Gospel by the Gentiles. Though she approaches the beam of the bridge from the left in the first half of the fresco, she enters Solomon’s palace from the right, distinguishing the one scene form the other. For the figures in the court Piero reused the cartoons for several of the women in the queen’s retinue in reverse. The classical pillars of the court form the frame for the scene and create depth by their recession in perspective. The walls and ceiling are lined with red and green marble. The main central pillar is directly in line with the enormous tree in the lunette above, adding to the sense of compositional unity, but also providing a visual link between the two scenes. Just as Adam died, the old dispensation, represented here by Solomon would die.
The queen bows in homage to Solomon, recognising the superiority of his knowledge. It is significant that her bow is not as great as that with which she acknowledged the holiness of the holy wood of the bridge. As in the former scene, the women in the Queen’s retinue look on in silent seriousness, recognising the significance of this meeting.
The white cloth decorated with gold, worn by both the Queen of Sheba and Solomon represents their opulence and regal status. The colour, patterning and particularly the quality of material which people wore signified their status. This ‘white cloth of gold’ is patterned with a stylised flora, in a thistle or pine-cone motif. In Piero’s time, wearing white cloth-of gold was regarded as the dress of rulers and their immediate family. It is worn by Sigismondo Malatesta and St. Sigismondo in Piero’s Rimini fresco. Mary was sometimes represented as ‘Queen of Heaven’ in a cloak of white cloth-of-gold.
The scene in the legend probably became so significant because Jesus himself referred to coming of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon as an image of the wise coming to himself in search of wisdom and truth: “The queen of the south... came from the extremities of the earth to listen to the wisdom of Solomon; and, behold, a greater than Solomon is here” [Matt.12:42; Lk.11:31]. Mediaeval and Renaissance commentators sometimes related this meeting of Solomon and Sheba to the marriage of Christ with his church, echoing their interpretation of the Song of Solomon as a love song between Christ and his bride.
However, in the legend, the recognition of the holiness of the wood by the Queen of Sheba led to a prediction that the wood would cause the destruction of Solomon’s kingdom, so he ordered that it be buried (or drowned according to a different legendary source). Solomon does not appear to his best in this aspect of the story, in attempting to destroy the power of the wood.
Solomon is represented in the robes of a Renaissance prince, and his wisdom was often related to the search for intellectual knowledge by contemporary noble courts. Nobles, princes, kings and emperors were often accorded or praised as having the wisdom of Solomon. It has been suggested that Piero’s image of Solomon could be a portrait of Cardinal Bessaroin, who in September 1458 had been appointed protector of the Franciscan Order. The scarlet robe and cap of the man on the left of the scene indicate that he is a doctor of the law. This may be intended to depict the learning of Solomon’s court, but it also contains a specifically Christian symbolism – that the rule of the grace of Christ will replace the rule of Law, as argued in the Book of Romans. Reading the stories in the light of modern understanding, there are uncomfortable aspects of the Legend of the True Cross. Western feelings were hostile to about Jews and Muslims at this time and the bias against both is prominent in the frescoes. This is not to imply that Piero or the Franciscans were themselves anti-Semitic; yet Jews were popularly distrusted as they were regarded as responsible for attempting to destroy the threat to their monopoly on faith by killing Christ, just as Solomon attempted to reject or destroy the Holy Wood. It seems significant to the invention of the story and its expansion in mediaeval times, that the wisest of Jewish kings was represented as not recognising or accepting the importance of the sacred promise in the wood, while a gentile queen was represented as having spiritual insight into its universal significance.
Annunciation
This theme seems out of place within the legend of the True Cross, but Christ’s incarnation stands at the pivotal point between the Old and New Covenants. It is probable that its inclusion was at the request of the patrons, not the invention of Piero himself. Its justification may be related to Nanni d’Arezzo’s Life and Miracles of Blessed Sinigardi, who was buried within the church. Sinigardi composed the Angelus prayer, which evoked the Annunciation and was sung or said after every evening service of Compline in the Church. The Annunciation therefore had particular links with the Franciscan saint buried within the church. It also evoked the involvement of the Holy Trinity in Christ’s Incarnation, which was particularly relevant to the blasphemy against the Trinity which was represented as being punished in the adjacent fresco of Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes II. The pious devotion of the Franciscans to Mary was a characteristic of their Order.
From the late 13th Century, indulgences had been granted to worshippers who attended church on the feast-days of three Franciscan saints who were depicted on the jams of the chapel and on the feast-days of Mary. It is therefore possible that the inclusion of the Annunciation painting may have partly related to this devotion. The fresco is divided vertically and horizontally into four key segments and it is probable that they deliberately form a cross, which compositionally relates the picture to the theme of the Legend depicted in the series.
Mary stands in a dramatic classical architectural setting. Its splendour suggests that this is not intended to be her simple home, but the Temple where, according to some legends, she was a handmaiden and wove the veil of the Temple which was torn apart at the moment of Christ’s death. The angel, traditionally represented in profile, genuflects before Mary, with a gesture of blessing. He carries a small palm frond ( a symbol of the eternal promise of paradise which the coming Christ will achieve). Above the angel God the Father, concealed from Mary’s view behind a cloud directs the scene, releasing golden rays that stream towards Mary’s womb. Behind the angel is an elaborately carved and decorated door. This may be a reference to Mary’s virginity, related by mediaeval commentators to the prophetic door of the sanctuary, in Ezekiel, which none could enter but the Lord: “... the outer gate of the sanctuary, which faces east was shut. The Lord said to me “This gate shall remain shut; it shall not be opened, and no one shall enter by it, for the Lord, the God of Israel, has entered by it; therefore it shall remain shut. Only the prince, because he is a prince, may sit in it to eat food before the Lord; he shall enter by way of the vestibule of the gate and shall go out by the same way.” [Ezek.44:1-3]. The Angel Gabriel seems to be literally at the one-storey ‘vestibule of the gate’, stepping towards the colonnade in which Mary stands.
Mary herself is a robust figure, with broad hips, not the slight young woman of Fra Angelico’s Annunciations. She fills the portico. Unusually the Composite style columns are not fluted, which Piero and his contemporaries would have known well was a requirement of the architectural order. As thy draw attention to themselves for this anomaly, and may be a reference to Mary’s simple virginity. Mary seems out of proportion to the architecture, but this may be deliberate. She is the same height as the column, which may be a reference to Mary as being a pillar of the Church. She carries a bible, as though she has just been interrupted in her reading and holds the page open with her finger. The gesture of her other raised hand is unusual for Annunciation pictures. She seems to be accepting, questioning and defending her position at the same time. Piero was careful in the gestures he chose; this gesture was probably a deliberate innovation, drawn from life to obtain the greatest meaning through the movement of the hand.
Above Mary, the window with its shutter open is a common symbol of Mary’s virginity being open to God. She had been the closed window of the Song of Songs [2:9] and Ezekiel [44:1-3], who only God was allowed to enter. Yet beside the window is a curious, meticulously painted, architectural detail. The bar, perhaps designed to hold an awning, is supported on a hooked strut from which a ring hangs. This is like the rings which held lines of washing, carpets for beating or displayed banners on feast-days. The shadow of the bar on the wall deliberately passes through this ring, which is probably a deliberate reference to Christ entering the womb of Mary. In many earlier Annunciation paintings the stream of light from heaven, bringing the Christ-child is shown entering at Mary’s ear, representing the belief that at the Annunciation, Mary’s pregnancy came through hearing the message of the angel, leaving her virginity unmolested. However Piero directed the focus of the beams of golden light coming from the figure of God towards Mary’s womb.
Behind Mary the wall is decorated with a complex trompe-l’oeil pattern rather like some of the marquetry patterns of Urbino. This probably also has some symbolic connotation, relating to the meeting of different dimensions within Mary, as well as representing Piero’s love of geometry.
The Transportation and Burial of the Wood
This panel is a much lighter treatment of the subject than most of the scenes. It does not represent Solomon rejecting the wood, but simply three dishevelled men, stripped to their shifts, straining to upend and bury the heavy knotty beam of the sacred wood of the Cross. Solomon aimed to prevent it from veneration and destroy its power. Their postures resemble that of Christ in scenes of Jesus carrying the cross on the route to Calvary and Simon of Cyrene helping him. For a religious setting, so close to the altar, on the altar-wall, there seem comic, or almost sacrilegious aspects to the representation of the scene. Despite being simple workmen, the attention given to them and the detail of their faces and poses is carefully observed. This implies the importance of the attempted rejection of the wood to the whole narrative. Like the story of Judas the Jew which it balances, this does not represent Hebrew figures in the most honest light. The back figure is garlanded with leaves, rather like depictions of the drunken Silenus or Bacchus. The central figure hoisting the plank with a pole appears to be straining with the effort, but also not quite sober. The foremost figure, with falling stockings, shamelessly seems unaware that his genitals are exposed beneath his undergarments.
The hole in which they attempt to bury the beam is hardly visible, while the plank itself is given the most significant emphasis. It may be intended to relate to the altar below, to which it points, as the place where the benefits of the blessing obtained on the Cross would be shared in the Mass.
The Torture of Judas the Jew
In the Legend, this Judas, by contrast with Judas Iscariot, was supposed to have been the grandson of the brother of St. Stephen. In some versions of the Legend the brother had remained a secret Christian during the time of persecution. In other accounts Judas himself was a secret Christian, or had remained a Jew and was converted after the finding of the True Cross. Judas was supposedly the only man left who knew where the Holy Cross had been buried after Christ’s crucifixion at Golgotha. (This is of course another false aspect of the story since we know that the Romans reused their crosses and crossbeams many times.) When questioned by the Empress Helena’s officials he refused to tell his secret so was thrown into a dry well for several hours until he recanted and revealed its whereabouts. Here we see him being pulled by a rope and pulley from imprisonment. He is raised by hair and figure dressed in the rich blue robe and headdress of a contemporary Constantinople official or member of a Renaissance court. This man’s hat is labelled with the word ‘prudence’, suggesting that Judas does not yet realise that the confession is being forced out of him for his own good and the good of the world. In revealing his secret to the Empress Helena, Judas would become her spiritual confidant, and was to be later consecrated as Bishop of Jerusalem. In some ways the theme reflects the torture of people by inquisition, which was also considered to be for their own eternal good. The theme of the raising of Judas has been likened by some to the resurrection of Christ, a parallel with the Burial of the Wood as Christ carrying his Cross.
The lack of emotion on the faces to the men torturing of the Jew reflects the lack of sentiment towards the Jews and Muslims in the contemporary Italy of Piero, as well as the distrust of Judaism and Islam in the time of Constantine. Visually the wooden tripod by whose pulley Judas is being raised, balances the wooden plank being buried, represented in the fresco on the opposite side of the altar wall. The three figures raising the Jew also balance the three figures raising and attempting to bury the Holy Wood. As the fresco of the Burial of the Wood was linked to the adjoining fresco of the Queen of Sheba recognising the wood and visiting Solomon, this fresco of the discovery of its whereabouts is linked in theme and visually to the adjoining fresco on the right hand wall of the chapel, representing the Empress Helena discovering and proving the True Cross.
That fresco represented the ignorance of the Jewish wise king in attempting to destroy the sacred promise. The fresco of the torture of Judas represented a scene that would lead to Christian enlightenment and healing. The contrast of the two cultures might also be suggested by the dishevelled appearance of the Jewish labourers burying the wood and the neat, elegant dress of the Christian labourers raising Judas.
The Discovery of the True Cross
The scenes of the finding of the True Cross are commemorated in the ‘Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross’ (3rd May). Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, is representing instructing the workmen to dig in the place identified by Judas, near the temple of Venus, built by the Emperor Hadrian in Jerusalem. The figure in white robes with a maroon hat and short blonde hair is probably intended to be Judas, re-clothed and far smarter now that he has been converted. (In other versions of the legend he revealed openly that he has been a secret Christian. In the Legend he became a member of Helena’s retinue, her spiritual advisor and later Bishop of Jerusalem. The white robe may be intended to represent the fact that his faith is no longer kept secret.
Piero’s composition is similar to that represented in several illustrations of the scene in manuscripts and a few larger paintings. However Piero’s representation includes innovations. In front of the Bishop of Jerusalem standing beside Helena (his head is damaged and no longer visible) stands a bearded court dwarf. The workmen wear turbans and short white tunics, like those in the Burial of the Holy Wood, identifying them as locals. Their supervisors wear white caps and longer red robes. One workman, half emerging from the pit which he has dug, helps a supervisor in green to raise a cross from its burial place, while the two supervisors to the right support another of the three crosses upright. As in the composition of the Death of Adam, all the figures are arranged in a semicircle around and the central event of the two figures raising the cross. All are intent on watching the event, though Judas looks away, gesturing to Helena.
As in the Baptism of Christ, the scene is framed by two hills in the background. The town of Arezzo is strongly visible between them, being deliberately identified with Jerusalem as a holy city. This may relate to a story from the life of St. Francis, which would have been significant to the Franciscan Order in Arezzo. Constantine had designated a Saint Sylvester as Pope. Francis had been travelling with a priest companion, named Sylvester after the saint. Outside the walls of Arezzo, Sylvester had begun to doubt his faith but was re-convinced and converted through being granted a vision: He has seen Francis with a golden cross emerging from his mouth, reaching to heaven, with its arms embracing the earth. Sylvester joined Francis’s Order and became one of their most trusted friars.
Visually the Empress and her retinue of women in this fresco parallel the women in the retinue of the Queen of Sheba, again demonstrating Piero’s aim to unify the scenes in the cycle and draw parallels between various elements of the story.
The Proof of the True Cross
This scene is linked by the background landscape to the scene of the Discovery of the Cross. In the first half of the fresco two of the three crosses supposedly dug up by Helena were shown. Here is the third. Piero did not confuse the composition by showing the three crosses twice. One of Helena’s officials holds the third cross over the body of a young man whose coffin was being carried to a funeral. As he emerges alive from his coffin, an old man behind the cross, presumably the young man’s father, kneels in prayer and thanksgiving, looking up at the crossbeam in devotion. In response to the miracle the Empress and her ladies also kneel in reverence. In a significant compositional detail, her praying hands are positioned exactly in front of the wood of the cross. This makes it appear that she is tentatively touching the sacred wood, while she in not in fact doing so out of reverence. As in the first part of the fresco, all the figures gaze intently at the Cross and the miracle. In the exact centre of the group, just as in the Discovery of the Cross, is a figure seen from the back leading our line of vision into the most important feature of the scene. This time it is in green, like the central figure in the first section who raised the Cross, but she is one of the Empress’s court.
To the right are a group of three on-lookers, men in the robes of Jerusalem, wearing the elaborate headgear that Piero associated with Constantinople and the Near-Eastern Church.
Piero’s representation of Helena is very similar to that of the Queen of Sheba in the same position on the opposite wall. The two frescoes of the recognition of the Holy Wood are very similar in theme. Both contain a retinue of women; both have one scene set against a landscape and the other dominated by architecture painted as if panelled in coloured marble; both show a miracle of revelation and spiritual understanding turning a pagan into a believer.
The basilica-like building behind the figures is probably intended to represent the Temple of Venus, built by Hadrian, which Helena ordered to be demolished. On the site of the Temple, Helena commissioned a new Christian basilica to be built, covering the spot where the Cross had been buried, so the building may be intended to represent either. This form of Renaissance architecture was not of course known at the time of Constantine, , but it adds a significant parallel between the ancient world and Piero’s contemporary Italy. The domed building on the extreme right is a fictional representation of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, known primarily from representations on souvenirs brought back by pilgrims. This was among the sacred places protected and administered by the Franciscan friars in the Holy Land.
Though the buildings seem out of proportion to the large figures, they are actually correct. As in the Flagellation, the perspective of the architecture is represented in true relationship to the size of the figures and could probably be accurately reconstructed. As the architecture is so similar to the classical-revival architecture of Piero’s contemporary Italy a spiritual as well as architectural link may be being suggested between the early Imperial Church and the new churches of Renaissance Italy, particularly as Arezzo is represented in the first half to the fresco. At the time Pope Pius II was planning a similar-looking church for a new city which he was building at Pienza. The buildings to the extreme right are certainly those of a Renaissance city, including a grey stone palace and a domed cathedral in the background which looks less like the Temple in Jerusalem than an Italian Renaissance ‘duomo’.
The Vision of Constantine.
The Emperor Constantine had links with Arezzo. They were proud that their first bishop had been appointed Pope by Constantine. There are varying early accounts of the Emperor Constantine’s vision of the Cross, which encouraged him to adopt the Christian faith and proclaim it as the official faith of his Empire. An angel was said to have appeared to him at night on the eve of battle (represented on the adjacent wall) and revealed the sign of the Cross. The visitor did not explain its meaning, but told the Emperor that he would achieve victory through this sign: “In hoc signo vinces”/ “By this sign you will conquer”. The emperor is shown asleep in his tent, with the doorway drawn apart to reveal the scene within. His raised chest and head suggest that he is responding to the message of the angel. He is guarded by two soldiers, armed with a spear and sceptre-like cudgel. The gesture of one implies that he may recognise intuitively that something mysterious is occurring, which he cannot see. The spear of the other soldier points the viewer’s attention visually towards the angel above. Constantine’s servant, meanwhile, rests awake against his bed, seemingly unaware of what is happening within. He mournfully rests his head on his hands and looks melancholy. The (sadly damaged) angel streaks in, dramatically lighting the night scene from above and making the whole image appear like a vision. I am not sure whether the position of the pole of the emperor’s tent as if rising from his bed is intentional, but it resembles the tree rising from the loins of Jesse, which could be a sign of the holy realm that will arise from Constantine’s conversion. In some representations of the Crucifixion we see the dead Adam beneath the Cross. As mentioned earlier the pillar in the scene of Solomon’s palace rises visually to the Tree of Life in the fresco of the Burial of Adam above. Here the mournful bodyguard beside the sleeping emperor could be a sign of the imminent death of paganism and the awakening of Christianity as a world religion.
The angel’s pose and lighting is dramatic. He is foreshortened and upside-down. His outstretched arm points to the emperor with one finger, while holding out a small golden Cross. This Cross is perhaps less powerfully seen today, as it has lost most of its original gilding, but even when it was painted, it can hardly have been clear from a distance. It probably drew attention through reflecting the light of candles in the chapel. In other paintings of the scene by other artists the cross often appears huge in the sky above, but here its message is conveyed by the dramatic light which illuminates the scene and renders the wing of the angel transparent. It is almost as if the Cross itself is the source of light, like a brilliant torch irradiating the scene. Although it creates strong highlights and shadows on the tent and figures, unusually, the guards and servant do not cast shadows on the ground themselves, which may be an intentional inventive idea of Piero’s, to indicate that this light is the Emperor’s vision and not witnessed by those surrounding him. The powerful light and smallness of the Cross seems to indicate that the Cross itself is not necessarily the most significant feature of the theme of the Legend, but the power of God behind it. This would have been particularly significant for a church holding a fragment of the True Cross as a relic, as this Franciscan community did. Most of the supposed fragments dispersed around Christendom were tiny. Their power was considered to lie in the presence of the power of God within them and through them, independent of their relative size. God’s power and the salvation achieved through the Cross had lit the world.
Though night scenes had been represented in mediaeval manuscripts, this was an innovation in monumental art. Leonardo da Vinci developed the importance of chiaroscuro, but the drama of Piero’s light effect in this fresco would not be rivalled until Caravaggio and his followers. Few of them managed to rival the sense of mystery created in Piero’s image, which draws one’s attention as one enters the chapel. It is to the right of the altar, just above the height of the viewer, while the Annunciation balances it on the left. Both scenes represent the vision of an angel bringing a significant divine message. The beginnings of the life of Christ, and the beginnings of worldwide Christendom flank the altar on which the sacrifice of Christ is commemorated.
The Victory of Constantine over Maxentius
The Battle at the Milvian Bridge, where Constantine defeated Maxentius, his rival for the leadership of the Empire, is pivotal for the transformation of the Roman Empire from paganism to Christianity. Eusebius, in his ancient ‘Life of Constantine’ compared the significance of Constantine’s battle against the pagans to Moses’ triumph over the Egyptians at the crossing of the Red Sea. He called Constantine ‘The New Moses’, leading his people into the promise of Christianity. Here Constantine holds out the tiny gold Cross towards the Tiber and the retreating army, rather as Moses was represented as commanding the opening and closing of the Red Sea by raising his staff. St. Francis, the patron of the order who commissioned the frescoes, was also called ‘the New Moses’ by his followers, which may be why so much emphasis is placed upon Constantine, and why this scene is so prominent in the chapel fresco.
The two armies are separated by a valley with a peaceful river which looks more like the quiet Tiber of the Alte Valle Tiberina near Arezzo than the area of the Milvian Bridge, nearer Rome. Far more dominance is given to Constantine’s army than the fleeing army. The soldiers are more powerfully armoured; even the horses are stronger, with brows forcefully facing the fleeing army. The enemy soldiers are mostly helmetless and look backwards in fear as they flee. One is semi-naked, riding an emaciated white horse. The representation of the battle scenes may be influenced by the works of Pisanello, which Piero may have seen in Pisa or in Mantua, where Pisanello painted jousting scenes in the Ducal Palace. They also resemble some of the battle reliefs on the Arch of Constantine, but we cannot be sure that Piero had seen these.
The various elements of the battle are represented as one progressive scene across the whole length of the wall. Unfortunately over time the right side of the panel has been more comprehensively damaged, but we know a little more of what it looked like from copies made in the early 19th Century. The legend tells that Constantine prayed that he would win the battle without incurring Roman deaths, so Piero does not depict any actual fighting. Maxentius had sabotaged the bridges round Rome and in retreat temporarily forgot this, causing the defeat of his own retreating army when the weakened bridge collapsed. The emphasis of the story on a bridge, may be intentionally connected to the theme of the bridge of holy timber above, through which the Queen of Sheba recognised the significance and sacredness of the wood. As in the Vision of Constantine, the emphasis on the Cross is subtle. In neither the Battle scene, nor the angel revealing the sign of the Cross to the sleeping Emperor was the Cross dominant, just a small golden cross being held out towards the scene. This may be intentional, to show the spiritual power exerted by redemption through the Cross, rather than emphasising its visual dominance. As the distributed relics of the supposed True Cross were often tiny, perhaps it might be again stressing to those venerating the local relic, that a small fragment contained as much spiritual power as the whole.
Piero created the effect of a crowd of soldiers through the massed lances behind the few horsemen who are represented. The march of Constantine’s army is represented quite calmly and confidently. The soldiers are in both contemporary Milanese armour and an interpretation of ancient Roman armour. The bearded Constantine in a peaked or visored hat or imperial helmet is visible, riding a white horse, beyond the armoured soldier on a chestnut horse. The style of his headgear clearly resembles that of Pilate in the Piero’s painting of the Flagellation of Christ. It is likely therefore that it was a form of headgear that Piero he knew and regarded as a symbol of authority. (It is also worn by Maxentius and the emperor in the other battle scene opposite.) Constantine holds before him a small, originally-gilded Cross, similar to that which the angel holds out in the Vision of Constantine. On the dome of his hat is a small pointed crown, which is probably Piero’s way of indicating that his victory is assured. On the extreme left, a captain on a white rearing horse leads the charge, heralded by a trumpeter behind him. Before the Cross the enemy army flees, but in their chaos they fall into the trap that they themselves have laid within the river. Maxentius, wearing the same style of headdress as Constantine, but without a crown, is represented on the left bank, beneath the flag displaying a basilisk. Some historians believe that his features are based on images of Mohammad II who had proclaimed himself Emperor over the Romans in 1462, but we cannot be certain that this date accords with the painting of the fresco. Behind him a soldier struggles in the water, while another soldier flees naked on a white horse. There are similarities here with Michelangelo’s later battle scene of soldiers struggling in the waters.
Several art-historians point to the resemblance between the representation of Constantine and the head of the former Emperor of Byzantium, John III Palaeologus, who had recently died in 1448. The Emperor had attended the Council of Florence, where Piero may have seen him, or the image may be based on Pisanello’s 1439 medal, made at the time of the Council, where he wears the same style of hat with a crown as Constantine and Maxentius and Herod in the Flagellation. (Piero had already used a medal by Pisanello as the model for his portrayal of St. Sigismondo in the fresco in Rimini). As Palaeologus had sought support at the Council against the threat to his empire from the advance of the Turks, this association with Constantine and his enemies seems relevant and appropriate. Constantinople fell to the Mamluk Turks in 1453, during the time that Piero was working on the chapel frescoes, and the Pope was attempting to rally support for a crusade against the Turkish advance.
There are obvious links between Constantine’s battle for the control of Rome, the Franciscan struggle in the Holy Land and the threat to the survival of Christendom against the rise of the Turks. This had even more local significance through the connection of the Franciscan Benedetto Sinigardi, interred in the church, who had been Provincial Master in the Holy Land, had installed John of Brienne both as ruler of Jerusalem and Constantinople and attempted with Pope Innocent IV to unify the Eastern and Western Church..
The Battle of Heraclius and Chosroes II
This battle is represented on the opposite side wall to the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, in the same tier, comparing the winning of the Empire with the Victory of the Cross. The Byzantine Emperor Heraclius fought against the Sassanian Persian King Chosroes II in the summer of 628 C.E. Three centuries after Helena’s supposed discovery of the Cross the relic was stolen by the Persians, reputedly for its magical powers. The legend claims that Chosroes set it up to the right of his throne, in a gold and silver tower, from which he aimed to rule the world, and as a necromancer, to rule the cosmos. His main heresy was to try to form an unholy Trinity between himself as a God, the power of the Cross and his own version of the Holy Spirit, set on the left side of his throne, which is represented by the black cockerel on the pillar beside his throne in Piero’s fresco. The Cross was won back at this battle and the heretic deposed and executed. Heraclius returned the Cross to Jerusalem on 14th Sept. 628, the day commemorated by the Church as ‘The Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross’. Unlike the battle of Constantine, which had been bloodless, the Battle of Heraclius was one of force.
Former representations of this theme had often simply shown the two emperors or their two sons in hand-to-hand combat on a bridge, as recounted in the legend. Piero is perhaps the first artist to have represented the mass battle itself. The artist combined several aspects of the event in one image: the battle, the retrieval of the Cross and the trial, judgement and execution of Chosroes. He shows a combination of various soldiers: foot soldiers, mercenaries, slaves, a trumpeter, officers and cavalry with several horses. As with the representation of the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, these are clothed both in leather classical armour and the metal armour of Piero’s time. Piero massed them tightly, showing a large number of details behind each other within a fairly shallow depth, close to the picture plane. As with Constantine’s battle, he created the sense of masses and movement through the angles of lances various weapons in the background.
The Persian king is seen kneeling awaiting execution, in front of his empty throne beneath the arched canopy decorated with stars to suggest his universal pretentions. The large wooden Cross is being held up to him as he is flanked by two soldiers. To reinforce the suggestion of his blasphemy, his face is an evil version of the face of God seen on the same tier in the Annunciation fresco. Three witnesses to his execution stand behind him, wearing 15th Century costume which makes them seem more obviously to be portraits of Piero’s contemporaries. It has been surmised that these are three members of the Bacci family, the patrons of the chapel frescoes. This would demonstrate their political and spiritual support for the contemporary call to defend Christendom against the threat from the Turks after the fall of Constantinople. Vasari identified two as Agnolo di Girolamo Bacci and Carlo Bacci; the other may be Francesco di Baccio.
This linking of our present day experiences with historic events is an important aspect of spiritual contemplation. History, scripture and spiritual traditions can provide models to guide our present activities. But we should not always act in the same ways as past examples might suggest. The Legend of the True Cross was used too politically in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, to justify distrust and torture of the Jews and crusades against Isalm. Today, hopefully, understandings of Christian principles encourage us to develop a more inclusive and peaceful response to diversity of belief. Yet we also need to be aware that not all actions and beliefs are equally true and we should challenge any individuals, institutions or systems which, in similar ways to Chosroes, place themselves in the position of gods. Our challenge, however, needs to be aware of the wrongs, violence and horrors of past recriminations. The inclusion of certain other figures of saints in the chapel were also designed to show the relevance of the struggle for truth: The strong figure of St. Peter Martyr, a Dominican, not a Franciscan saint indicates the importance of being prepared to give one’s life in the struggle against heresy. The Archangel Michael was seen as both a military and spiritual protector. He was also linked to Constantine who in legend was supposed to have founded Mont-Saint Michel.
There are similarities in Piero’s two battle scenes with Uccello’s Battle of San Romano (Uffizi Gallery) in the solidity of the horses and the grouping of figures as well as comparisons with Roman battle reliefs found on ancient sarcophagi and Trajan’s column. The contemporary relevance of the battle is reinforced by the banners flying above the scene: a white cross upon a red field, the imperial eagle and the papal lion rampant of Paul I (Pietro Barbo). The lion rampant was also a symbol of Mathias Corvinus and the Hunyadi. These contrast with the pagan Saracen banner and the Islamic banner of a moon and star flying over the enemy camp. Beneath the banner a figure in green and bronze armour slays a pagan with a sword. He may represent Heraclius himself.
The battle is represented next to the fresco of the Annunciation. It is closest to the area of the battle fresco depicting Chosroes’ blasphemous misrepresentation of the Trinity. In the Golden Legend the whole Holy Trinity are described as involved in and receiving glory through the Annunciation. In the Battle scene against Chosroes II, the false ‘Trinity’ is defeated by the True Cross and the power of God working through it.
Exaltation of the True Cross
The final fresco of the series is positioned in the lunette opposite the first fresco. It balances the gift of the branch at death of Adam, which would become the wood of the Cross, on which salvation would be won. Here the relic of the Cross is raised, exalted and venerated on its triumphant return to Jerusalem. The scene itself is in an important position, raised high in the chapel of the church, closest to heaven. The Legend tells of a triumphant procession of Heraclius being turned back by an angel at the walled-up gate of Jerusalem. He had arrived in full military regalia and ceremonial cloak. Zacharius, Bishop of Jerusalem reprimanded the emperor for not imitating Christ more closely and coming in humility. When Heraclius removed his costly ceremonial robes, clothed himself in the garments of a poor man and approached barefoot and chastened, he found no physical or spiritual opposition and entered the city, returning the relic to its place in the church built on Calvary. The legend relates that the inhabitants then welcomed him ecstatically, as Christ was welcomed on Palm Sunday.
In most texts of the legend this counselling of humility is given by an angel rather than Bishop Zacharius. To have represented an angel would have made a significant parallel to the figure of the Archangel Michael in the fresco in the opposite lunette. However, it has been suggested that the inclusion of a bishop might have drawn a Franciscan parallel with St. Francis disrobing and arriving naked before the Bishop of Assisi. Francis too had renounced his social reputation and worldly goods. His imitation of Christ in humility, poverty and suffering was an example to his Brothers. The association of with the Archangel is not lost however, since Francis’ vision of the Cross through which he received the Stigmata was supposed to have occurred after a 40 day fast in dedication to the Archangel Michael, on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross.
This event, with the other parts of the legend, used to be read as part of the liturgy for the commemoration of its return, in the Breviary for 14th September. The emphasis on poverty and humility of course also related to the Franciscans, who valued the discalced nature of their Order, though of course the splendour of these frescoes and the financial backing of the Bacci family, rather call the simplicity, poverty and mendicant mission of the Arezzo Franciscans to question. However, in most other representations of the Legend to the True Cross, including Gaddi’s frescoes in Florence and Cenni’s in Voltera, Heraclius is not shown at all in the scene of the Cross returning to Jerusalem. The emphasis is there upon the jubilation and triumph of the Cross returning to sacred hands. Piero may have included the emperor to continue the sense of unity in the frescoes, linking the upper fresco in the lunette with the scene of Heraclius’ battle in the lower tier.
In other representations of this scene in manuscripts, the gate of Jerusalem is often a major compositional focus. Piero places this to the side and sets the scene outside the walls of the city, with Cross as the main focus, and a group of inhabitants of Jerusalem kneeling before it. This might intentionally refer to an ancient tradition of welcoming important visitors to a city by meeting them at a distance and accompanying them on their approach. Here the distinction is afforded to the relic, which is considered even more important than the Emperor and is represented as such. This protocol was known as ‘adventus’, which could also be another reason for including the Annunciation (‘Advent’) in the series. It is perhaps significant that the Cross in this fresco is positioned between two trees. These may intentionally represent the Old and New Covenants, the Hebrew and the Christian world, which the legend of the Holy Wood of the Cross linked, spanned and fulfilled. The weaker of the trees is positioned closest to Jerusalem, so may be intended to represent the Old Dispensation of Judaism, the stronger grows directly behind the bishop’s mitre, so probably is intended to represent the New Testament and the Christian Church of which the Franciscan Order was a key representative in Jerusalem as official protectors of the holy sites in the city.
Most of upper half the figure of the barefoot Heraclius is missing, but he stands in front of the Bishop, who wears a tall pointed mitre, accompanied by a robed man in a cushioned hat. The crowd echoes the depiction of St Helena and her retinue kneeling in the fresco of the Proving of the True Cross, which is depicted directly below this scene. Witnessing this on the left are three of Piero’s mysterious onlookers in the tall hats of Constantinople, also worn by the man in white behind the kneeling figures. They are probably intended to represent Jewish clerics as they do not kneel, but the figure in the white hat seems about to doff it in acknowledgement of the holiness of the returning relic before him. Perhaps Piero is suggesting that this revelation of the Cross is his moment of conversion. Within the composition the trio of onlookers seem like the on-looking angels in the Baptism and the three large figures in the Flagellation, the witnesses to Chosroes’ execution and several other triplets of figures in Piero’s other works. Balancing the small figures of Seth and the angel represented in the distance in The Death of Adam, a small robed figure with a white beard approaches from the distance in the shadow of the city walls
RESURRECTION OF CHRIST Pinacoteca Civica, Sansepolcro. (formerly the Palazzo dei Priori or Palazzo Comunale. c1463-5. 225 x 200 cm.
This was painted on a wall in the Palazzo Communale (Town Hall) of Borgo San Sepolcro; it was also called ‘Palazzo dei Priori’ or ‘Palazzo del Conservatori’ and the ‘Residenza’. This is now the Municipal Art Gallery. After the Battle of Anghiari in 1440 Pope Eugenius had sold Borgo San Sepolcro to Florence, who set up a Florentine governor, but on 1st Feb. 1459 the Palazzo was officially returned to the citizens of the town and was regarded as a symbol of the renewal of their civic autonomy. Not long after this, the authorities decided to restore the building as a symbol of their re-gained relative independence. The commission for the fresco of the Resurrection was part of this, as the theme was spiritually so relevant to the town. This was a prestigious commission for any artist to receive, especially for his own home-town, almost on par with the Lorenzetti’s larger frescoes of Good and Bad Government in Siena Town Hall, which like Piero’s Resurrection represented the local landscape behind the scene.
Most civic buildings in Italian cities and large towns would have contained murals depicting significant local historic events like military victories, or allegories of government. It was rare, if not unknown to depict a specifically religious theme. The link of the name of the town with its relic of the Holy Sepulchre probably explains why such a religious subject was chosen even though this was for a secular building. The emphasis on the tomb in the painting, and the stone in the immediate right foreground relates to the foundation of the town with its relic brought from the tomb of Christ. The theme of Christ’s Resurrection is thought to have been represented on the town’s insignia, seal and civic law documents from about 1000. Following the tradition that had lasted for about 450 years of having Christ’s Resurrection as its official emblem, the town later adopted Piero’s image of the Resurrection as its modified emblem and depicted it on the official town seal, with the motto: ‘SUB UMBRA ALARUM TUARUM PROTEGE NOS’. It was seen as a symbol of divine influence on their political leadership and divine protection of the town. With Piero’s Nativity panel, I find this fresco perhaps the most spiritually meaningful of all Piero’s paintings. That this should be the case with a picture which was largely designed for a secular setting. and had political intentions, shows the depth of content within Piero’s work.
No documentation has been found to confirm the date of its commissioning. Taking into consideration the dating of events in the history of the building and the style of the work, it is thought that Piero most probably worked on this mural sometime after his visit to Rome (1458-9), probably before the Montefeltro Altarpiece (begun 1469). The first clear record of the fresco is from 1474, though the mural had probably been in place several years before that. At the time of painting the Residenza was divided into two long chambers, with communicating doors between. The first was an entrance hall, the second was used as the meeting room for the town council. Piero’s mural was set high up in the entrance-hall wall that separated the two chambers, directly opposite the main entrance so it would be seen prominently by all entering the building.
This seven foot high fresco would be immediately confront all who entered by the main entrance door, as it was immediately before them. It was framed by a painted architectural surround in the form of a Corinthian portico with fluted columns. Unfortunately within about a decade of its completion a decision was made to partition and vault the room and the adjacent room, to support the weight of the new vaults in the room above. (This probably occurred sometime between 1470 & 1480). The use of the rooms in the Palazzo was being altered, with the boardroom being transferred from one floor to the other. It was recorded in the late 15th or early 16th Century document that the actual wall on which the Resurrection was painted was moved about this time, but this has been questioned by several modern historians; perhaps the wall was just lowered and restored, as a 1480 manuscript suggested. The alterations meant that the pilasters of its painted frame lost their architectural, illusionistic effect as the top halves are cut off to fit within the spandrels of the arch within which the painting was situated. Enough of the architectural frame remains to be able to imagine its original effect. (Piero’s Mary Magdalene and Leonardo’s Last Supper suffered similarly from architectural changes made around them.) The light on the fluted columns of the frame intentionally corresponds to the light from the windows of the room. There is also another imaginary light (as in the Flagellation and the Annunciation in the Polyptych of St. Anthony) which Piero used to light the scene from higher on the left, creating the shadows of the soldier on the tomb and the sword of the soldier. In the 17th Century an altar was placed in front of the mural, but the original idea does not appear to have been that it should have a liturgical function in the civic hall after the improvement of the building. Sadly in 1770 the fresco was covered-over with whitewash, contributing to its deterioration. The fresco was also damaged by a chimney behind the wall, which over-dried and altered the chemical composition of the binding agents of the plaster and tempera. This particularly affected the painted armour of the soldiers. Some of the colours, contrasting tones and effects of luminosity have altered over time, yet enough details remain to show Piero’s technique. He painted the armour with the precision of detail that he applied to his oil and tempera paintings on panel.
In this work Piero experimented with the use of two different angles of perspective in one painting. The sarcophagus is represented from below with the same perspective as the architectural frame, as though we are observing the perspective from the true angle at which we view the mural, looking up at the underside of the tomb’s lintel. The vanishing point is below the plinth with its damaged inscription. However the risen figure of Christ is emphasised as no longer belonging wholly to this world, and is painted from a different point of vision, as though we are raised from the ground and seeing his body directly straight ahead. These two different points of perspective may be attempting to emphasise the differences between the physical and spiritual world. There may actually be a third angle of perspective in the work: the ground on which the soldiers rest appears to have a low point of perspective, receding behind the sarcophagus.
The figure of Christ is unusual, particularly his features. His musculature is strong and idealised as befits the perfect example of a man, but his visage is not particularly attractive, though it confronts us with a haunting expression. It has been suggested that this appearance relates to the Italian concept of toughness: ‘brutto-bello’ / ‘beautiful ugliness’. More specifically his haunting stare, with his eyes appearing sunken within his skull, might suggest that this man has travelled through, and experienced, the haunting realm of the dead. It could also relate to the description of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah: “He had no form or majesty that we should look on him; nothing in his appearance that we should desire him” [Isa, 53:2]. Christ’s face is hypnotic; it is hard to discern his emotion, but like his stance he appears magisterial. His left hand seems equally magisterial as he lifts the hem of his robe. His right arm is sturdy and appears trustworthy as it confidently holds the Resurrection pennant in triumph;. The whole face is strongly lit from above, forming strong shadows around the eyes and long, strong nose. The lips are thick, asymmetrical and prominent. He stares out with dark, almost highlight-less eyes, a rather impassive, serious expression, and no smile. His dark beard is straggly and double-pointed, a feature used regularly by Piero as a sign of the character being Middle-Eastern, though Jesus appears to have been given blonde, western hair. He gazes out at us with dark eye sockets and prominent eyes of one who has come through the darkness of death after experiencing torture and sleeplessness. This expression is absorbing, almost hypnotic in its confrontation of the viewer.
In his right hand Christ holds the ‘labarum’, a standard denoting victory. Its red cross indicates that the victory over death has been won through the sacrifice of the Cross and Resurrection. His left hand holds up his pink, flesh-coloured mantle. The colour is probably symbolic of the belief that this resurrection was physically ‘in the flesh’.
Jesus appears to be watching and ready to judge, as well as offering new life. This judgemental focus is a suitable depiction for a civic building where leadership and decisions are open to corruption. Like the murals of Good and Bad Government in the Town Hall in Siena, this painting in the Council-Hall was designed to encourage the righteous organisation of civic life, to overcome dishonesty, abuses of power, and the effect of Original Sin. Civil government was supposed to be a continuation of the divine ordering of heaven. This was a reminder of their moral, civic and religious duties to councillors, judges, advocates, traders, the innocent and guilty who were confronted by the image as they entered the building daily. Its effect, high up, looking down on the entrance room, the effect was considered so powerful that about 50 years later a small altar was installed in front of the painting. (Whether it actually did anything to purify the morals of Italian politics is probably questionable!)
The representation of the risen Christ is not entirely different from resurrection iconography in mediaeval art since the late 10th Century: Jesus is stepping from the tomb, with sleeping soldiers nearby. The tomb is represented not as the rock-cut cave suggested in scripture, but as a stone sarcophagus. It may be coincidental that it resembles the altar by Alberti in the temple of the Holy Sepulchre in the Rucellai Chapel, Florence, the tomb in Andrea del Castagno’s Resurrection in the Cenacolo di San Apollonia, Florence, and the Resurrection in Siena Cathedral, which has been attributed to Francesco da Siena (c1458-65) but there may be some common source. Jesus in rising from the tomb was often depicted with one leg over the ledge of the sarcophagus and one still in the grave. Sometimes, especially in contemporary Northern European Resurrection paintings he seems to have a rather delicate step as though Jesus has no weight, even floating. Piero used a different pose, with Jesus physically stepping up from the sarcophagus, with his foot on the edge. This is the pose in the Sienese painting (c1340-50) attributed to Nicola di Segna, in the Resurrection panel of the Polyptych of St. Clare in the Cathedral of Borgo San Sepolcro. It now hangs in the same museum as Piero’s mural of the Resurrection and shows Christ in a very similar stance to that of Piero, which was obviously based upon it. In the Sienese painting Jesus is surrounded by angels. He carries no labarum, but his leg is raised onto the ledge of the tomb and he holds his robe in the same way as Roman statues were shown holding their toga as a sign of control.
Compositionally in Piero’s painting the line of the lifted fold in the toga echoes the line of the soldier’s lance, directing our eyes towards the living tree beyond. This adds to the sense of movement and a life-force to the otherwise static poses. The landscape background is fairly shadowed or silhouetted, as though the sun is just rising, behind Christ. Yet the highlights on his body and the soldiers and the shadows cast by them imply that a light from the viewer’s upper left is shining onto them. This direction of light is consistent with the light on the columns framing the fresco and corresponds to the windows of the room in which the fresco is painted. While strongly influenced by the iconography of the Sienese Resurrection and other resurrection symbolism, Piero’s representation seems to have greater solidity, majesty and confidence than most resurrection paintings up to this date. The raised foot is strong, as if able to take the whole weight of his body, emphasising that this is bodily resurrection, not a vision. It is carefully observed as a study in perspective, like the head in his treatise illustration. Jesus is physical, not an idealised or particularly beautiful figure, though he is well-proportioned and muscled, as one would expect from a Platonic figure. He appears physically strong enough to achieve salvation. His face appears careworn and serious, perhaps severe, with deep-set eyes, as though he has experienced the place of the dead. He confronts us straight-on as though asking for or even commanding our allegiance, as his pose appears commanding as well as victorious. Only a few letters of the inscription on the tomb remain, which may spell: HVMAN (s)ORTE or ‘HVMAN... (m)ORTE’. Its original meaning is debated.
The sleeping soldiers are realistically painted, wearing pseudo-Roman armour’ rather like to processional armour used in Renaissance tableaux or official parades in Constantinople. Their armour is fictional, perhaps borrowed from Byzantine designs resembling the fantasy antique armour invented by Renaissance designers, including Leonardo. The knee-plate of one soldier, directly below Christ’s figure has been likened to a scorpion fish. But it is more likely to be intended to resemble the wings of a demon, implying that Christ is treading the devil and death beneath his feet. Piero was obviously trying to seem historically correct, as was Mantegna in the armour of his soldiers.
The soldiers’ slumber contrasts with the vitality of the figure of Christ. Their bodies take various angles, which compositionally form the base of an equilateral triangle with the head of Christ at its apex. Their varied faces, complexions and physiques suggest that they may represent different types (perhaps the Melancholic, Sanguine, Phlegmatic and Choleric) while Christ represents the perfect man with all humours in balance. A tradition (without evidence) suggests that Piero painted himself in the position of the soldier whose head leans back and is viewed in perspective. We cannot be sure of this, though a figure with his head in a similar position, below Mary’s mantle in the Misericordia Altarpiece and a figure in the Legend of the True Cross appear to have similar physiognomy. The angle of his head forms a counterpoint with the angle of Christ’s knee and the spear of the soldier, which leads the eye up to the living trees on the right. This spear appears to rest lazily, as opposed to the vertical pole of the banner of resurrection in the hand of Christ, which shows the Lord’s alertness. The figures of the soldiers create a rhythmic flow below the static and stable upright figure of Christ. Only the two central soldiers are obviously asleep, it may be that the two others are intended to be witnesses. One may be shielding his face from the vision or refusing to accept it, one may be looking up in astonishment. The line through his eye and the helmet of the soldier with the red shield creates the right edge of the equilateral triangle with Christ at its pinnacle.
Unusually for a painting of this time, the soldiers are larger than Jesus, because they are in front of him in the perspective of the scene. Showing four soldiers is fairly traditional in Gothic and early Renaissance representations of the scene, perhaps to balance the four Marys who witnessed the empty tomb. Here the guards do not tumble away at the earthquake, or shrink back in amazement. Instead one covers his eyes and the others appear oblivious or blind to the momentous event happening beside them. Christ’s stare, by contrast, is all-seeing, perhaps to encourage justice and honesty in the civic setting.
The whole effect of the painting is far quieter and more awe-inspiring than most contemporary or later pictures of Christ’s resurrection. As in the colours of the frescoes the Legend of the True Cross, the colours of the soldier’s uniforms create a rhythm across the base of the composition. The angle of the ‘V-shape’ between the red legs and green leg and spear of the front soldiers continues in line with the three green trees receding on the right. The head the soldier with the green helmet decorated with scrollwork is very similar to soldier the Battle of Heraclius riding the bolting horse, with a dagger at his throat, just below the Cross.
This is not just a picture about the Salvation of the human race, or a locally relevant religious theme. The scene resembles the local landscape of Tuscany but there seems to be a cosmic element to the scene. Though the fresco is damaged, the landscape appears to be beginning to be suffused with light as the dawn breaks beyond the hills and the trees and is reflected in the clouds. Piero appears to have made a slight mistake in his optical observation, showing the shadow caused by the rising sun beneath the clouds, rather than above them with the highlight below. Christ himself may be being identified with the rising sun. If the hill behind him is meant to be the peak of the Trabaria pass, he is arising from the East.
The trees to the left of the Risen Christ, behind the leg that is still in the tomb, are thick, dry and leafless, arising from almost barren ground. Those on the right, beyond his raised leg, are lean, green and in flower, with more bushes and smaller trees around them, suggesting new life or Christ’s promise of renewed life to us. This duality may suggest not just the resurrection of the Saviour, but also the relative barrenness or death of those who reject the offer of Salvation, by contrast to the abundance of life offered to those who accept what Christ achieved. Piero used a similar theme of a dead tree in the Arezzo mural of the Death of Adam. The clouds are gentle, suggesting that Christ brings a spring of refreshment to nourish the earth, not storm-clouds or the darkness that covered the earth at Christ’s death. While this reading of the meaning of the landscape seems spiritually relevant and close to the intellectual symbolism employed by Piero and theologians and commentators of his time, it also has to be admitted that not all critics agree with this interpretation. Some believe that Piero may have painted leaves on the barren trees after the fresco was completed, in oil paint, in the same way as he touched up some of his other works. Over time, especially after the mural was whitewashed, the oil leaves could have become detached from the fresco. I personally prefer to believe the earlier interpretation, as both Giovanni Bellini and later Caravaggio used a similar natural metaphor for the resurrection, contrasting green vegetation with barren landscape in Bellini’s Berlin Resurrection and Caravaggio’s Vatican ‘Deposition’.
The interpretation of the trees on the right as representing the awakening of spring is convincing. Yet their foliage resembles evergreen cypresses, which might imply that, not being deciduous, they could be intended as symbols of the permanence of eternal life. In the Hebrew Bible cypresses are used as symbols of the eternal strength of God’s care [Hos.14:5-7]. It may seem strange that the three trees on the right are more spindly than the deciduous trees on the left. But the thin trunks of the trees could represent the youth and vigour of the Church that emerged from Christ’s resurrection, ascension and Pentecost, while the old dispensation of the law and prophets, though apparently strong, was spiritually deadening, as St. Paul emphasised in the Epistle to the Romans. Though the surrounding landscape is not topographically exact, it certainly resembles that near Borgo San Sepolcro, with its rounded hills. Behind the dormant or dead trees is a steep mound that might be intended to represent Calvary, as well as the local hills, and behind the living trees is a tower that closely resembles the Malatesta Tower. Sadly the green paint used in the landscape has oxidised over the centuries, leaving them far browner than their original hue.
The positioning or the trees appears unusual. Two-dimensionally the varied spaces between each of them, including the figure of Christ, may be arranged according to mathematical harmony and the mathematics of perspective. They all reflect the upright line of labarum held by Christ yet their recession towards the sides of the mural make the landscape behind Christ appear not to converge but diverge in perspective as the trees reach out towards the edges of the composition. The labarum flying the pennant with a resurrection Cross and the very evident wound on Christ’s body emphasise that his sacrifice has achieve salvation and protection. To stand on the right side of a figure of importance was considered the position of most honour. Yet in this fresco the bare trees occupy that position. The line of three verdant, vigorous, blooming but more immature trees is represented on the left, which was a slightly less prestigious position, (unless they are intentionally on Jesus’ right as the view sees them). The two bare trees could represent ‘the Law and the Prophets’ while the less mature but living and flowering trees represent the hopeful beginnings of the Christian Church. The dead or leafless trees in a relatively barren landscape, lead towards the taller hill, perhaps the Place of the Skull. Christ’s Crucifixion fulfilling the requirements of the dead Law and Prophets was a strong element of St. Paul’s teaching, especially in the Epistle to the Romans. The tree closest to the hill has spiky branches, almost like large thorns, which has been interpreted occasionally to relate to Christ’s Crown of Thorns. By contrast the younger living trees lead into a green valley of living plants, growing around a local palace. The spiritual life encouraged by the town of Borgo San Sepolcro seems alive by comparison with the Old Law.
The labarum with its pennant of as red cross on a white background indicating the victory in Christ’s Resurrection, could also be related to the landscape. The probable symbolism of the landscape background takes the argument further: Christ’s resurrection was both a victory over the dead word caused by the Law and the Prophets, passing judgement upon them. Yet it also promised a new life through resurrection to the emerging church , and in this secular setting to the righteous in society. The diagonals of the composition radiate out emphasising the verticality of Christ’s movement as he rises from the tomb. The recession of the trees may also reflect the sending out into the world of the message of resurrection and salvation.
Symbolically the Risen Christ may be intended to be seen as the protector of the city and state, whether sleeping or rising. The stone on which the soldier on the right rests is most probably be intended to be represent the relic of the stone from the Holy Sepulchre, brought to the area by Arcano and Egidio, upon which the town of Borgo San Sepolcro was reputedly founded. Its prominent position nearest the viewer, emphasises the political and religious priorities of the town and its civic counsellors should remain based on the principles and the integrity by which the community was founded and which Christ taught and would eventually judge.
ST. JEROME IN PENITENCE Gemaldegalerie, Staatliche Museen, Berlin. 1450 (signed & dated) 51 x 38 cm.
This small panel is Piero’s first dated work: ‘PETRI DE BVRGO OPUS MCCCL’ is written on the painted label on the tree trunk in the lower left hand corner. Some critics believe that the style is closer to the artist’s work of c1440, so question the authenticity of the dating, yet what remains of the original painting is almost entirely underpainting, so it is almost impossible to date it stylistically. The panel had been largely over-painted until restored between 1968 and 1972, when little was found to be left of its original colour and surface except the underpainting. This nevertheless shows the care and sensitivity in Piero’s design and preparation. The panel may have be one of the paintings recorded as remaining with Piero’s family after his death. If so, it may have been left unfinished or more likely, was an image of which the artist was fond or dissatisfied. It is painted on a chestnut panel, which curved to be slightly convex. This resemblance to the form of an icon is thought by some to be intentional, but the distortion is more likely to be accidental, which may be why it never sold.
The scene is set in a landscape very similar to the upper Tiber valley near Sansepolcro. The landscape background may be linked to the young Piero having seen the work of Rogier van der Weyden in Ferrara. It is not too far a step from this landscape to the background of the National Gallery Baptism of Christ. There are also similarities to landscapes in the work of Jacopo Bellini. Piero’s interest in optics may already be apparent in the way that he portrayed reflections in the river, particularly the tree stump to the left of the panel, the height of which is exactly reflected in the water. It is not clear whether the three felled trees are intentionally symbolic.
The usual iconography for St. Jerome represented him either in his cardinal’s hat, as a scholar in a library, or as a penitent hermit in the desert, beating his breast with a stone. Renaissance Humanist collectors tended to prefer the representations of him as a scholar. Unusually Piero combines the two forms of imagery, showing Jerome in a desert-setting similar to the local Tiber valley, but with his books in an alcove cut into the rocks. He carries a rosary in his left hand which has lost the detail of its fingers after the extensive restoration. In his right hand is a stone to beat himself in penitence. He looks up at a crucifix set on a sawn tree trunk, as in Piero’s other painting of Jerome in Venice.
As we know little of the painting’s origins it is very hard to analyse Piero’s intent. It is a simple image, probably intended for contemplation, as the penitential and scholarly imagery implies. Its small size suggests that it would be designed for private domestic use, rather than for contemplation at a distance. It’s vertical format suggests that it was not intended to be part of a predella to an altarpiece, though this could be possible.
The image is quiet and thoughtful, very similar to the contemplative art of Bellini, though there is no evidence that Piero know his work. The position of Jerome’s arms seem to imply that he is opening himself up before God and allowing his Lord to know him thoroughly, as in Psalm 139. His semi-nakedness carries the same suggestion. His few books represent his knowledge and scholarship, but these have been laid aside as he comes before the crucifix. It resembles St. Paul’s insistence that he counted his scholarship and human qualifications as nothing, and he “determined to know nothing but Christ crucified”.
ST. JEROME AND A WORSHIPPER Galleria del Accademia, Venice. Early 1450s ? 49 – 42cm.
Like the earlier St. Jerome in Berlin, this is a small devotional panel, but its precise intention is similarly unsure. It was perhaps designed as portable altarpiece. It was painted primarily in tempera, though there is some use of oil in the green of the landscape, which may have been retouched later. It too is signed on a painted parchment attached to the trunk of the tree holding the Crucifix, but this inscription does not contain a date. The inscription below the devotee, presumably identifying him, is HIER. AMADI AUG. E and the words on the base of the trunk supporting the Cross identify the painter as: PETRI DI BU[R]GO S[AN]C[T]I SEPULCRI OPUS (‘Peter [Piero] of Burgo San Sepolcro’). Some believe these inscriptions to be later additions.
Like so many of Piero’s paintings, the date is debated. Some believe that its style is closer to the dates of the Flagellation or Baptism, perhaps 1465-6. Others believe that it was earlier, particularly if Piero was in Venice shortly or after 1450 after his work at Ferrara or from his earlier time in Urbino c1445. Some relate the background to the landscape backgrounds of Domenico Veneziano. Yet other historians date the work later to c.1470-75. So, in the absence of consensus of opinion on it, it could be wiser to consider what the devotional work is saying and encouraging, rather than trying to identify its details too precisely.
A few commentators question whether the saint is Jerome as he is not accompanied by any of the normal attributes of Jerome, except his books. There is no lion, scorpions or other beasts or desert setting, as described in the Golden Legend; no cardinal’s robes or hat, study or library. The cave behind him and his books, could be attributes of several hermits, though the Golden Legend describes Jerome as constantly reading or writing. However this lack of obvious common symbolism is not unusual in Piero’s depiction of saints. The depiction of Jerome as a hermit is more true to the saint than his representation as a cardinal, as that attribute was only given to him long after his death in 420 C.E. He had been secretary to Pope Damascus I and was considered alongside Augustine as one of the great ‘doctors’ or teachers of the Church. If it is Jerome, as seems reasonable, the man might be praying before him in recognition that Jerome’s lifestyle, teaching, focus on prayer and scholarship, as a guide to Christ and example for his own life and that of the Christian community. Jerome may be directing the praying man by his own example, as he wrote in the introduction to his Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Isaiah: ‘I fulfil my duty, obeying Christ’s command to ‘search the scriptures’ [Jn5:39]... ‘If, as St. Paul says, Christ is the power and wisdom of God [1Cor.1:24], then anyone who does not know the scriptures does not know God’s power or his wisdom. To be ignorant of the scriptures is to be ignorant of Christ.” ... This Christological focus of Jerome’s life and scholarship is emphasised by the presence of the crucifix.
Jerome sits holding an open book beneath a crucifix. Presumably the books are the scriptures, which he translated, and commentaries. He is shown turning towards the donor or patron, gesturing with his right hand as though he is explaining something or encouraging him to focus on the Bible’s its teaching or example. Beside him on his simple bench are two other elegantly bound books, one open. These may represent the Law and the Prophets, as Jerome wrote that in reading their testimony he “contemplated Christ alone.” The emphasis on books in the painting may be an indication that the praying man, like all true disciples, is being encouraged to study scripture to strengthen his faith in Christ and follow the knowledge that he would obtain through scholarship. It seems an appropriate message for the intellectual circles of Renaissance patrons for whom Piero worked, as it was for Piero himself.
Jerome’s humble dress demonstrates that he had given up possessions and worldly ambition, for the sake of following Christ and eventually reaching the heavenly Jerusalem. The obvious wealth of the patron’s clothes and the background setting of the Renaissance city with its towers and palaces suggest all that the praying man should be willing to discount in focusing on faith. Jerome became a popular theme for private works of art in the second half of the 15th Century, particularly in wealthy merchant areas like Venice and its surroundings, which may be how this small devotional panel found its way to Venice. Many wealthy laymen took Jerome’s teachings and model as an example. Some abandoned the noble life for prayer and study, others used his example as a focus of their own penitence. Jerome’s abandonment of his fascination with pagan literature and his love of Greek and Roman authors was also regarded a warning to those caught up in the Renaissance revival of classical scholarship, as Piero and many of his patrons were. Jerome had taught that the ‘foolishness’ of Plato and his followers and the ‘reasoning’ of Aristotle could not bring one to salvation, whereas charitable acts like the exultation of the illiterate and support of the poor demonstrate our adherence to Christ’s way. Christ needed to be the main focus of their devotion, and they had to find him within their learning. ‘Human learning’, which ‘puffs one up’, was contrasted by Jerome to ‘celestial wisdom’, which ‘delights, opens mysteries, teaches the thing s of heaven, fills the spirit with faith and raises up the lowly to the region of heaven.’ This attitude seems to be what the picture aims to encourage in the devotional viewer.
The identity of the wealthy layman has been debated. He wears either a stole or a hood over his far shoulder, which could help to identify him, if it relates to a distinction which he acquired. The inscription appears to identify him as ‘Hieronymus’ / Gerolamo Amadi, son of Agostino Amadi, a wealthy Venetian patrician.
Tthe inscription seems to have been added by another hand than that of Piero; it is very different from his signature inscription on the work. Whether it was added by Amadi or after his death is uncertain. He also resembles one of the figures sheltering beneath the robe of the Madonna della Misericordia, but this similarity may be coincidental. Other historians potentially identify him as Gerolamo Piscina or Girolamo di Carlo Malatesta, son-in-law of Federico de Montefeltro. If the panel was painted by Piero in or for Venice, it is uncertain why Borgo San Sepolcro should have been painted in the distant landscape, if the background does represent that town. Perhaps the patron was a devotee of the relic of the Holy Sepulchre, or had personal connections with the town. Some describe the architecture as being more northern, towards the area of Venice. The artist’s signature identifies him closely with the Borgo San Sepolcro. The background landscape certainly appears to include the town of Borgo al Santo Sepulchro, showing certain clear features, particularly the Rocca Malatestiana beyond its walls. It shares similarities with the background of the Berlin St. Jerome and the Baptism of Christ.
Behind the layman, a flourishing tree rises up, as though reflecting the growth of faith. Sampling of the paint has shown that the green of the landscape has deteriorated over time to brown. The tree and the verdant landscape may be an intentional reference to the Tree of Life or the ‘Lignum Christi’. Beside Jerome the crucifix is attached to a trunk that has been sawn through. This might seem to symbolise that Christ arose out of the old dispensation, which his death fulfilled, but had now been replaced by the new covenant, sealed by his death, and which brings new flourishing life to the Christian worshipper. The angle of the crucifix seems to point to this, as the arm of the Cross reflects the angle of the branch of the tree above the patron’s head and the angle of the donor’s praying hands. The angle of Jerome’s bent leg also points our view upward to the man’s praying hands and his heart, while the angle of Jerome’s right arm and the rock of the cave behind his shoulder, direct the eye to Christ on the Cross. The intense look of Jerome towards the man focuses concentration on a directional line connecting the three figures, emphasising the relationship between the praying man, Jerome and Christ. The crucifix is also facing the town, suggesting that Christ is appealing to and relating his message of Salvation to the people of the town as well as the individual devotees depicted. .
The cut tree may have several scriptural references. “Let us cut down the tree while the sap is in it. Let us destroy him out of the land of the living, that his name will be forgotten” [Jer.11:19] was regarded as prophetic of the plot to kill Christ. The flourishing tree also reminds one of many scriptural passages. Psalm I speaks of those with faith as a flourishing tree planted by water (the lake is prominent in the background of the painting). Christ is described in Zechariah and Isaiah and several prophets as the fruitful branch of the Lord [Isa.4:2; Jer.23:5; Zech.3:8-9; 6:12]. Zech.6:12 was also interpreted in the light of Jn.2:18-22 as a reference to Christ’s resurrection from death and the rebuilding of faith and the promise of new life, all of which have relevance to the believer.
SIGISMONDO PANDOLFO MALATESTA KNELLING BEFORE ST. SIGISMONDO
Tempio Maletestiano ‘Chapel of the Relics’, San Francisco, Rimini: Signed and dated 1451.
This is Piero’s earliest surviving fresco and is signed and inscribed with two dates. The first is on the lower band at the left: PIERO DEBURGO MCCCCLI, which is the date of the work. The other date inscribed around the roundel is MCCCCLVI, but this 1446 date relates to the building of Sigismondo’s castle, which the roundel depicts. The work is painted in ‘true fresco’ (on wet plaster), though it seems that Piero added details after it was complete in oil paint. These oil details have not survived over time as well as the fresco beneath, but traces remain. It was commissioned by Sigismondo for the Church of San Francesco, the traditional burial place of the Malatesta family for generations. Sigismondo had initiated the rebuilding of the Gothic church in a more classical style to suit his humanist aspirations and make the family church more contemporary and intellectual in fashion. It was re-consecrated in 1452. Sigismondo claimed that he was motivated by the wish to build a thank-offering for his successful involvement in the 1447 war between Florence allied with Venice, against the Papal States allied with Milan and Naples. The inscription on the façade of the newly classicised church hailed him as ‘bringer of victory won through prayer.” This fresco, showing him at prayer, was intended to be near the site of his tomb, in the first of three new chapels being built into the South side of the building, and dedicated to his namesake, St. Sigismund. Another chapel was the burial place of his mistress Isotta. This fresco was above the entrance door of the chapel and Sigismondo is positioned as though facing both the saint in the fresco and the sculpture of the saint above the altar in the chapel. In 1943 the fresco was detached for conservation reasons, transferred to canvas and cleaned
Unusually, the young prince is placed centrally in the composition, with his head in at the vanishing point of the perspective, a position which would usually be reserved for Christ, Mary or a saint. He is also represented the same size as his patron saint. This somewhat belies the humility of the prince’s pose. He wears the fashionable half-length coat or ‘giornea’ and short boots. Despite his military prowess, Sigismondo had himself represented as a devout noble. Behind him two elegant muscular hunting hounds lay ‘couchant’ and alert, they may be symbolic of his fidelity and devotion as well as his domesticity, wealth and love of hunting after a life of military victory. One white, one dark, they face in two directions, as guardians of their master, and perhaps implying that he is a defender of the faith. In Christian iconography such dogs can represent both fidelity and faith, so here they can carry both the idea of the prince’s religious faith and his loyalty. The white dog looks forward, devotionally; its partner looks out, to the world beyond, perhaps intending to suggest their master’s religious and political outlook, his devotion and dominion as well as his watchfulness. As greyhounds were identified as kingly dogs, these probably also reflect their master’s noble aspirations. In Dante’s Divine Comedy a political saviour of Italy is given the title of ‘The Greyhound’ /‘Veltro’, and the symbol of the dogs here may have a similar source, origin and intention.
Around Sigismondo, the painted classical architecture reflects the Malatesta prince’s taste, regarding himself as a fashionable innovator, reintroducing classical architecture and scholarship, and aiming to restore his city’s gothic church to fashionable Renaissance/classical forms. The roundel provides a window onto the city of Rimini, dominated by Sigismondo’s citadel, the Castellum Sismundum, redesigned reputedly by Ghiberti from 1437. It is identified by the inscription and the date of 1446 indicates when the castle was ready for occupation. The same view was sculpted on the reverse of Sigismondo’s portrait medals. The Latinising of Sigismondo’s name to ‘Sismundum’ in the inscription of both the fresco and the medals shows another aspect of his aspirations; it means ‘If you will... the world!” or alternatively “as it were the world”... suggesting that his castle and his rule reflected God’s perfect ordering of the cosmos. This also relates to Sigismondo’s second name ‘Pandolfo’, which can mean ‘the cosmic hero’. The symbolism of a circle for the frame in which the castle is represented, could itself suggest that it is the perfect Renaissance city, ruled by one whose lordship reflected God’s kingdom. Unfortunately this was hardly true of Sigismondo’s rather bullish and arrogant character and rule.
The interior where Sigismono kneels is decorated for celebration; hung with tapestries, a long, bunched garland and decorated with roses and cornucopia. The painted border is decorated with symbols of the Malatesta: roses and cornucopia, in imitation of its marble base. We are looking into a fictional corridor or audience room, where the prince kneels before his patronal saint. Its blue background seems to represent a tapestry, elaborately decorated with green foliage and red flowers which were originally painted in dry pigment. Much of this has since been lost as the fresco is in a poor state of conservation. It must have originally been rich with decoration, both in the background and the damask patterns of the clothes, reflecting the splendour of Sigismondo’s palace. This decoration was appropriate for the colours and forms of the heraldry in the chapel.
Unusually St. Sigismond is relegated to the side, painted in the robes of a patriarch which may be similar to some Piero witnessed at the Council of Florence and included in the Legend of the True Cross. The real saint was an Hungarian Vandal, the first Christian Burgundian king. He was only king for a year and was knighted and crowned as Holy Roman Emperor by Pope Eugenius IV in 1433. His coronation as Emperor is represented in a bronze relief on the doors of St. Peter’s, Rome. There he is represented kneeling before the Pope in a similar pose to that adopted by Sigismondo in Piero’s fresco, though it is unlikely that Piero would have known of this. Piero could have known several representations of Sigismund; Pisanello painted a portrait on vellum, but he was usually represented as an armoured knight. In Pisanello’s portrait he wears a fur hat, similar in form to that in Piero’s fresco, but much higher. It appears that Piero simplified and lowered height of the hat during the painting process. However, Sigismondo died at a relatively young. The features in Piero’s painting are very similar to Pisanello’s portrait, but Piero represented the saint as much older than he ever was. Piero also gave him a forked beard, like the eastern beards he often represented to show the foreign origins of figures, whereas Sigismund’s beard in portraits was simply long. Regarded as a martyr, St. Sigismund’s character does not at first appear to have been particularly different from the scheming Sigismondo Malatesta, so the prince may have been appropriately matched and named. Sigismund had ordered one of his sons to be strangled for rebuking his stepmother, but sought to atone for this by generous patronage of the church and support of the poor. He built the Abbey of Agaunum, where he later hid, disguised as a monk, after being defeated in battle. He was discovered and executed by his enemies. His feast day was May 1st.
Sigismondo apparently had met his namesake when he was just 15 and the Emperor had visited Rimini on his return from his coronation, and the Emperor had knighted Sigismondo on 3rd. Sept. 1433. This event may be what Piero’s fresco is referring to , though none of the normal trappings of investiture are represented and Sigismondo is portrayed as he was at the time of the fresco, not as a youth. Sigismondo used his name and his association with the Hungarian King and Emperor politically, when promoting himself over the rulers of other city states. His father had possibly originally named him deliberately to emphasise the Malatesta’s links with the powerful Balkan states, with whose leaders the Malatesta’s made military alliances. The name, derived from mediaeval German ‘sigis’ and ‘munt’ meant ‘Victory’ and ‘Protection’ or ‘Victorious Protection’. Sigismondo had this translated into Latin for use as his motto.
This fresco can only just be called a ‘religious work’; the only sign of spirituality are Sigismondo’s praying hands. It is more a propagandist celebration of the young man, designed to go over his tomb to announce his social position. At the time of the fresco, and Piero’s almost contemporary portrait of the prince (Louvre, Paris), Sigismondo was rising in authority. He had recently been victorious in a military battle at Piombino (though he switched allegiances to obtain it). He saw himself on a politically upward trajectory. This fresco was part of the deliberate development of an architectural and artistic campaign to magnify the church where his family was buried. The Architect Alberti was involved in the project of turning the mediaeval gothic church into a classical temple, the ‘Tempio Malatestiano’, faced in marble, some of which was looted from other churches. This classicism, however, earned Sigismondo a reputation for being more pagan than pious in his tastes. He had aspirations to be a keen scholar as well as being a ruthless soldier. Sigismondo’s character and activities later antagonised the papacy and brought about the decline of the Malatesta family. Both Pius II and Paul II condemned and excommunicated him. Sigismondo reputedly travelled to Rome in late 1468 with an intention of trying to murder the Pope, but died after his return to Rimini late in the year.
The fresco is quite a contrast to Piero’s Baptism of Christ. The Baptism was designed for a secular setting, yet it radiates spiritual truth and religious significance. Sigismondo’s fresco was designed for a religious setting but displays secular arrogance and worldly ambition. It is very easy for commissions for churches to betray a very different spirit from the spiritual intention that should be in a work for a religious building. Too many Mediaeval, Renaissance, Baroque, Victorian and Contemporary church commissions proclaim the worldly aspirations of the patron or the institution, rather than pointing worshippers towards God ‘in Spirit and in Truth, as Christ intended our devotion to do [Jn.4:23].
ST. MARY MAGDALENE Duomo, Arezzo. Late 1450s to 1466? Fresco. 190 x 80 cm.
From its style, this fresco, on the left wall of the cathedral, next to the sacristy door, was probably painted around the same time or immediately after the Legend of the True Cross cycle in St. Francesco, Arezzo, but it may date to later. Mary may have been considered particularly relevant in the late 1450s and early 1460s, as John Capistran had attributed to her the victory at the Battle of Belgrade over the advancing Turks in 1456, (three years after the fall of Constantinople). The battle had taken place on 22nd. July, the feast day of Mary Magdalene. Piero is also recorded as being in Arezzo again in December 1466, when he was commissioned to paint a banner of the Annunciation for the Nunziata confraternity proclaiming their dedication, like that of John Capistran, to the name of Christ. It may be that the fresco was painted at this time to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Capistran’s victory. The architecture around the painting was altered in 1783, when the gothic tomb of Bishop Guido Tarlati was moved to its present position beside the fresco, requiring the trimming of Mary Magdalene’s painted architectural frame. Its painted marble lintel, over which the saint’s robe flows, was damaged further at a later date.
The saint is set within a painted arch, just above the head of the viewer, and the perspective is constructed with this viewpoint, making the life-size figure appear as though she is looking down towards us and reflecting. She appears to be observing us from above, as an example and intercessor for us. As with many of Piero’s images of holy figures, there is a certain detachment, as though their minds are on faith, truth and holiness, rather than empathising emotionally with the viewer. Piero has lit her with the same angle of light as the architecture and its reliefs, thus emphasising the reality of her presence. Behind her the background, now faded, was a blue sky, against which the strong colours of her robes make her stand out luminously. It must have originally that she was standing in an open arch on the wall, observing the worshipper below.
Mary is not represented in her usual iconography as a penitent sinner. She looks down on us with a confidence, serenity and care, as though she is considering us and will intercede for those of whom she approves. As with many of Piero’s saints with haloes, Mary’s halo is shown in perspective. It was originally gilded, as were her sleeve and belt. These would have reflected the light from windows and flickering candles. She wears a green robe over which is a voluminous red cloak with a white lining. These colours possibly relate symbolically to the three cardinal virtues: Faith (white), Hope (green) and Charity (red), emphasising that she had been clothed in virtue by Christ. White represents the purity of her Faith, green represents her Hope in salvation and red was associated with the Caritas love which she felt for Christ. The red of Mary’s cloak was also probably intended to represent her former sinful life, made pure by Christ’s intervention. (Mary Magdalene was associated confusedly with the woman taken in adultery, conflated with Mary of Bethany and regarded as a former prostitute. None of these are true to the biblical account of the Magdalene and one who Jesus exorcised, but they have persisted in common understanding through many centuries.)
Piero’s interest in optics and light is shown in the way that the light on the figure is consistent with the light effects painted on the architecture and the light in the building. The light is especially strong on her oil-jar and the white satin-like lining of her cloak, the colour of which may be intended to suggest, not just her faith, but the strength of purity which salvation has brought to her, and which her intercession with Christ might bring to the viewer. Her red hair is loose and Piero paints it flowing finely over her shoulders, suggesting the length of the tresses with which she would dry Christ’s feet. This was another commonly-confused conflation of Magdalene with both the woman in the house of the Pharisee and Mary of Bethany. Her halo, cuffs and belt were probably originally gilded, like the water and rays of light in the Baptism and the halo in the St. Julian. According to the Golden Legend, Mary lived as a hermit after Christ’s death. During this time Mary’s clothes fell to tatters but God enabled here hair to grow to cover any shame of her nakedness. Donatello’s expressive sculpture of Mary represents that legend. Here Piero represents her as a still young woman, elegantly robed by God, but the emphatic focus on her spreading hair may suggest the beginning of this miraculous growth.
Mary holds a crystal and gold container of the oil with which she was to anoint the entombed body of Jesus, (just as she had anointed his feet in her identification with Mary of Bethany and the forgiven sinner). It may also be intended to imply that she can heal our own wounds and be a balm to our sufferings. The container is painted with precision and careful observation of the effects of light on glass and reflected through oil. It shows Piero’s interest in conveying varieties of textures, as was particularly evident in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. This is probably influenced by the Netherlandish paintings he had seen in Urbino, and perhaps Antonello da Messina’s work, seen in Rome. The precision and clarity of painting was possible because he was using smoother and harder plaster for his base than most former fresco painters; in some cases he incorporated finely ground marble into the ground. Mary’s oil has also sometimes been associated with the jars of unguent scent sometimes shown in art as a sign of a prostitute. However, here the jar is more obviously associated with purity, being held next to her heart and embraced by the lines of her cloak, rather like a veil. The shape of the jar also feels rather like the form of a traditional pyx, holding the consecrated host. According to legend, in later life as a hermit, Mary spent long periods of time meditating upon the sacrament. She holds the jar with a gentle gesture of her fingers, which was associated with elegance, grace and beauty, as shown in several Renaissance portraits.
ST. JULIAN? Pinacoteca Civica, Sansepolcro. Fresco fragment 135 x 105 cm. c1455-60?
This fragment of fresco was painted within the apse of Sant’ Agostino in Sansepolcro ( a church later re-consecrated to St. Clare), and was only discovered on 23rd December 1954 before being detached and removed in 1957. It was originally painted in both fresco buono and secco, and the underpainting of the flesh was primed with terra verde. Sadly many of the details painted in fresco secco have crumbled away over time. The elliptical halo was tinned then gilded; the tin presumably made the gold appear more luminous. The figure has now lost its architectural context, in which, like the Magdalene fresco in Arezzo, it would probably have seemed to be realistically set and lit within the architectural framework, though here the surround was rectangular. The head was between three and a half and four metres from the ground, so the figure would probably have had a presence somewhat like that of the Magdalene. Now only showing the head shoulder and part of the chest of the saint, it was probably originally a full-length figure. Julian stands against a painted panel representing black marble with a green stone surround, making the red, green and white of his clothes and the lightness of his head stand out in relief. The three dimensional effect must have been heightened by the highlights in his hair and the way it cast shadows on his face. Stylistically it is usually dated to sometime in the 1450s, around the time of the Arezzo frescoes, before or after Piero’s visits to Rome. It is presumed that he made a visit c1455; he certainly was there for documented work in 1458-9).
There are many St. Julians in the Catholic Church, this is probably Julian the Hospitaller, a popular saint in the middle ages, whose story is told in the Golden Legend, which we know Piero consulted in painting the frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross. Julian is represented in the legend as having killed his parents in error, and travelled to Rome in penance, with his young wife, where they received absolution. During their journey home they reached a river, on the banks of which they built a hospice where they cared for the sick and the poor. They also ferried travellers over the river. As well as being revered as ‘Julian the Poor’ and ‘Julian the Hospitaller’, Julian also became known as the patron saint of innkeepers, travellers and boatmen. His saints day is February 12th. He and his wife are probably fictional characters, though they were possibly variants of the story of Julian and Basilissa, (also possibly fictional, whose saints’ day January 9th), who reputedly turned their house into a hospital for the poor and travellers. This Julian was supposedly martyred under Diocletian, alongside a priest Anthony, his recent convert Anastasius, a married woman Marcionilla and her young son Celsus in Antioch c.302C.E.
The identification of this figure as St. Julian is based on contemporary images of the saint like those by Masolino and Andrea del Castagno. Julian the Poor’ / ‘Julian the Hospitaller’ is represented traditionally as a youth: he was often represented as a young hero or a romantic cavalier. In Piero’s fresco he is given blonde, finely curled hair, as in many of the young men and angels in Piero’s works. Originally the hair was picked out in more detail as in the angels in the Baptism of Christ, or the hair of Christ in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. But in this case the detail was painted in fresco secco, of which only a few highlights remain, though his original curls are shown in the shadows delicately cast on his forehead. Piero gave the saint a serious, innocent yet apprehensive expression, looking to the side like the Magdalene or the right hand angel in the Senegallia Madonna. This apprehensive look may be intended to represent his penitence at the death of his parents. Fairly unusually for wet fresco painting, Julian’s features were delicately painted over a green earth ground, as in traditional Italian tempera portraiture and the technique employed in Piero’s Baptism of Christ. This may have been experimental, but the experimentation was successful. His clothes are those of a contemporary noble, with a velvet cloak, green damask shirt and pleated and ribbed, patterned over-shirt. Piero shows his interest in varieties of texture in both his painting of the hair and Julian’s velvet cloak contrasted with his patterned and ribbed silk shirt.
Against the black marble background, the figure of the saint, especially his hair; appears backlit. This may not be intentional, but the result of the loss of the thin area of fresco around the edges. Piero painting his background sections of plaster first, leaving space at the edges of some figures and the hair, to be filled-in using ‘fresco secco’, which in many cases has crumbled away. These images of saints by Jerome appear to have a confidence and security in their faith, which was intended to act as a model and guide to the devotion of the onlooker.
POLYPTYCH OF SAINT AUGUSTINE (Museu de Arte Antiga, Lisbon; National Gallery, London; Frick Collection, New York; Museo Poldi Pezzoli, Milan.) 1454 - 1469
This dispersed altarpiece is now known only through a few surviving panels: St Augustine (Lisbon) and The Archangel Michael (London) St. John the Evangelist (New York) and St. Nicholas of Tolento (Milan). Records document that its main panel was a Madonna and Child, now lost. This was presumably similar to the Madonna and Child in Piero’s Polyptych if St. Anthony. A few smaller surviving panels are thought to have perhaps belonged to this altarpiece, though their connection is disputed: St. Monica and an Augustinian Saint who it is difficult to identify and a Crucifixion, all in the Frick Collection, New York, and St. Apollonia in the National Gallery, Washington
This was painted for the high altar of the church of the Augustinian Friars in San Sepolcro. The contract drawn up on 4th October 1454 stipulated that the work was to be completed within 8 years, though with the other demands upon Piero, the altarpiece took 15 years to finish. Payment was partly from the friars and a wealthy Borgo citizen Angelo di Giovanni di Simone d’Angelo. Both parties paid in a combination of florins and parcels of land: 189 florins including 100 florins-worth of land from Angelo; 131 florins including 89 florins-worth of land from the friars and the Operatai of the Fabbriceria. The final payment of 50 florins of the 320 florin total was paid by Angelo’s heirs on 21st May 1470.
We do not know when the altarpiece was dismantled. The friars moved to the parish church of Pieve di Santa Maria in Sansepolcro in 1555 but this second church was demolished in 1771. Their original church of St Augustino was taken over by the Poor Clares of Sta. Chiara, who brought their own altarpiece painted by a follower of Perugino, depicting their own saints Francis, Jerome, Louis, Mary Magdalene, John the Baptist and Catherine of Alexandria, alongside Mary, the Apostles and angels (now in the Pinateca, Sansepolcro). The friars may have dismantled or rearranged their large polyptych at this time, or later. Records of 1634 and 1825 suggest that the church of Sta. Chiara displayed paintings of the Virgin and Child, St. Augustine and St. Nicholas by ‘a noted painter of San Sepolcro’ below the organ, so two of the extant panels may be these. Other panels were recorded in the family home of the Ducci in Sansepolcro in 1680, including predella panels of the Flagellation, Crucifixion, Deposition and Resurrection.
The four surviving large panels were offered for sale from Milan in the 1860s and 70s. Four smaller panels of saints were still in the possession of the Franceschi family (Piero’s heirs?) in 1904 when they were offered for sale to the National Gallery, London before entering the Florentine art market, then a Lichtenstein collection, from which three were acquired by the Frick Collection, New York in 1950 (one of St. Nicholas of Bari disappeared after 1904). The Crucifixion was on the art-market in Milan between 1910 and 1915. It passed through tree collections before Rockefeller donated it to the Frick in 1961.
The figures of saints are set against a blue sky and a low stone parapet decorated with a classical frieze. By the time he painted this altarpiece Piero’s use of oil paint had become more sophisticated, using layers of warmer colour beneath the eventual image and fluent confident brushstrokes. As with many of his works he was intent on correct effects of light, which falls from the same direction on all the figures, except St. Apollinaria, who, it is presumed, was probably positioned in a different position in the altarpiece. St. Michael and John the Baptist were probably to the left and right of the central Virgin and Child as the step of the throne is visible at the edge of their bases.
St Augustine
As the patron saint of the order who occupied the church, Augustine is represented as a bishop. He carries a sacred book, covered in red leather, with golden clasps and a gold crozier with a pure crystal shaft. His white gloves, embroidered with gold and crystal stars, also suggest his purity and the authority of his ministry, emphasised by his rings. He is robed in black, the colour to the habit of Augustinian friars. Over this, the glory of the painting is his sumptuous cope, embroidered with images of the life of Christ. This of course would be the ceremonial robe of a contemporary Renaissance bishop, not of Augustine himself, as and early bishop. In the embroidery are images of the Annunciation, Flight into Egypt, Presentation in the Temple, Prayer in Gethsemane Flagellation and Mary at the foot of the Crucifixion. One further image is glimpsed in the folds of his cloak, which is probably a resurrection scene, the red figure may be Mary Magdalene meeting the risen Christ. On the clasp of Augustine’s cope the risen Christ rises from the tomb, and on his mitre, beaded with pearls, is represented the risen Christ holding his cross, with half-length saints below. On the shoulders of his cope are four full-length saints, including St. Paul and John the Baptist. There is great realism in the representation of these embroidered scenes; the perspective bends with the folds of the garments. The splendour of his cope and the subjects of the embroideries emphasise Augustine’s role as a leader, follower of Christ and observer of the members of his Order. He is represented as authoritative, majestic and monumental, with a serious expression as though observing viewer and assessing the ministry of his Order. The wealth of his adornment may also be intended to reflect the aspirations of the wealthy lay patrons who commissioned the work, as they had also left money for ‘beautiful and costly vestments’, for the church which this altarpiece was to grace.
The painting is in wonderful detail, painted both in tempera and enlivened and finely detailed with oil paint. This detail is probably influenced by Piero’s contact with the finely detailed Northern European paintings becoming fashionable in northern and central Italy.
The Archangel Michael (London)
Michael is portrayed as a Roman warrior with sword and military boots, treading on the serpent-like body of Satan. He holds its dripping reptilian head in his left hand and, in his right hand, a curved sword. Its form is that of the contemporary ‘falchion’ rather than an ancient Roman sword. His breastplate is a blue muscled, leather cuirass, trimmed with gold. It may be based on Byzantine armour, still in use for ceremonials at Constantinople, which was based on Roman parade armour. The colours of the cuirass imply his heavenly origins and glory. It is ornamented with rubies, sapphires and pearls at the shoulders and on the jewelled collar. His large white wings are feathered. His grouping with St John may at first seem incongruous; one might have expected two archangels or two saints. However, he and St John are the name-saints of patron Angelo di Giovanni, and St. Michael’s breastplate bears the inscription ANGELUS, POTENTIA. DEL. LUCHA, implying, a connection between the ‘Angel’ and ‘Giovanni’ or The Angel of St John. The word LUCHA was possibly originally MICHA, a shortened form of ‘Michael’, but may have been wrongly restored, or be a corruption of the word for ‘Light’. The term POTENTIA possibly refers to a treatise by Pope Sixtus ‘De Potentia Dei’.
The representation of Michael seems rather different from that of the other surviving saints but this may be accounted for by his an angelic nature.
St. John the Evangelist (New York),
The figure of St. John is dressed in the voluminous robes of late Roman antiquity. His identity has been contested, and has also been suggested by various scholars to be Saints Andrew, Peter, Paul, Simon the Zealot, or Clement. Yet he is almost certainly John as he is similar to the representation of John on Piero’s Polyptych of the Misericordia and the Montefeltro Altarpiece, so appears to have been part of Piero’s regular iconography. His large rectangular cloak is a Roman pallium. Beneath this he wears an ankle length, sleeved tunic with elaborately embroidery at its hem. Only he of the surviving saints is represented barefoot, which implies a certain poverty and humility, though the rich hem of his tunic suggests his importance and authority. He is represented in old age with white hair and beard, intently reading his Gospel, which is bound in red and bordered in gold, implying that it is of superior quality.
St. Nicholas of Tolento
Nicholas, who died c.1306, was an Augustinian friar who had been recently canonised in 1446. He was known as an eloquent and popular preacher. Unlike the figure of St. Augustine, his monumentality and presence is created more by his stance and powerful stature in a simple, 15th Century Augustinian habit than by the elaborate robes. He seem to be about to address the viewer in an authoritative preaching pose. Piero probably invented his features.
Polyptyches like this were designed to focus the devout on the saints and spiritual emphases of their particular foundation or area. For the Augustinians this altarpiece represented saints and themes which were particularly significant to their history, beliefs and spiritual calling. Locally connected saints or those related to specific issues were intended to encourage the devout to follow their example, not just rely on their intercession or intervention. (Jerome, in Piero’s two small devotional pictures already mentioned, was a model for this.) Even extensive polyptyches represented just a few elements of the whole narrative of salvation and a small selection from the Communion of Saints. The altarpiece is primarily a reminder of the promises and doctrines of faith, to focus faith and worship towards God. It is not itself a source of salvation, nor meant to be a primary focus for intercession. One is meant to look beyond the images to the spiritual realities which they represent. However some superstitions survive and the specific intercession of saints is still sought within some Christian traditions. The saints above are part of the eternal family, of which we are part, and examples for our own discipleship.
MADONNA DEL PARTO Museum near Santa Maria a Nomentana, Monterchi. Before 1467
This fresco now appears in a context very different to its original intention; it has in fact changed its context several times over time. It is now in a museum, (a former school-building,) near its original church setting in Monterchi. Monterchi is 15 miles southwest of Sansepolcro on the route to Arezzo, Perugia and Rome. The fresco was painted for the 13th Century church of Santa Maria Momentata, otherwise known as Santa Maria della Sella, some distance outside Monterchi, between Sansepolcro and Citta di Castello. The church was expanded by the Medici, who built a Franciscan priory alongside the church during their overlordship and patronage of the district.
The original date of the fresco, like many other commissions by Piero, is debated. The style of Mary’s headdress and veil is found in fashions of works by contemporary artists dated 1456. The angel figures resemble Piero’s figures in the Death of Adam in Arezzo frescoes and other works around 1464. It is suggested to be before 1467 because it appears to have been referenced in Boccati’s work in the ‘Camera Picta’ at Urbino. Whatever the date, its painting is of high quality.
Due to reductions in use and changes in society a decision to demolish the church was made in 1785. Most of the nave was destroyed and the apse area containing the fresco was formed into the small chapel for a newly consecrated town cemetery, which the building survives as today. For a century the chapel served the community but neglect of the building and its fresco gradually damaged both. The painting continued to be of influence in the district as a devotional work, and was revered almost as a talisman for the locals. The Madonna was regarded as a protectress, particularly for vulnerable pregnant women, as well as others in the town. This superstition, which the devotional work accrued, may not be a true aspect of Christian spirituality, and is not to be encouraged as ‘worship in spirit and in truth’, but it shows how a work of art can significantly affect and influence a community.
With the late 19th Century growing interest in rediscovering Piero della Francesca, the chapel and its fresco were ‘rediscovered’ by art-historians in 1889. The original chapel was badly damaged in an earthquake on 26th April 1917, after which this fresco was detached from the wall in an attempt to save it and prevent its further deterioration. In doing so, however, it was cropped from its architectural setting, resulting in several losses to the paintwork and details, as well as loss of context. It was temporarily transported to Florence for conservation. The present chapel was reconstructed in 1927 and the detached fresco returned to its position. It was restored again in 1928, 1952-3 and 1992. After its restoration in the 1950s it was proposed to remove the fresco to Florence temporarily for an exhibition, but its veneration in Monterchi had developed to such an extent that the townspeople objected and it remained. From the 1980s and 90s it gradually developed as a place of touristic pilgrimage on ‘The Piero Trail’, which enhanced its reputation but put it in danger of greater deterioration. Its more recent removal to a museum was controversial, among locals especially, though it was deemed necessary for the protection of the fresco from further deterioration. This sadly removed it from its devotional ecclesiastical context.
Monterchi was the home town of Piero’s mother. Modern psychological thought may assume that this had extra significance for Piero in painting a pregnant Madonna. However such significance may only have been slight to Piero. A story used to circulate that the chapel was the burial place of Piero’s mother Romana di Perino. This was a fallacy, since she was buried in Sansepolcro, like the rest of Piero’s family, and the painting was not originally seen as part of a mortuary chapel, but in the apse of a church intended for the devotion of all. The primary significance of the commission seems to have been that the painting should represent the security of Mary’s maternal intercession and protection for all, not just those who are pregnant. Its later context in the setting in a cemetery chapel added further significance to the original intention, as the mortality rate of both infants and mothers was high.
It is now remains detached but was originally surrounded by an architectural background, set against trompe-l’oeille painted, vari-coloured marble panels on the wall (rather like the background of Solomon’s palace in the Legend of the True Cross or the apse in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. It was painted in fresco behind a free-standing altar, rather than traditionally painted onto panel. Only a few fragments of this painted marble remain visible beside the canopy. It has been inferred from contemporary documents, discovered in 1977, that the painting was originally set in an architectural framework, a niche or triumphal arch, behind a free-standing altar. The evidence for this has been disputed, as the background appears intended to be flat, though the fur-lined, canopied tent is curved. The fresco was painted over a former fresco of the Virgin, over which Piero laid a thin layer of mortar before painting primarily in dry ‘fresco secco’ using tempera, not true ‘buon fresco’ on wet plaster. This technique sadly contributed to the deterioration of the work.
The image of the pregnant Mary may not have been as rare in mediaeval art as it appears today, since the iconography was suppressed by the Counter-Reformation. It was regarded as unbecoming to show the pregnant Virgin, and several images of the theme were banned and destroyed. This seems ironic, since the Church encouraged images of the Annunciation and the nakedness of the infant Christ in the Nativity, as well encouraging procreation within families. The emotional content of the imagery, nevertheless, led to it being strongly venerated by the local townsfolk; an attitude that continued into the 20th Century. For a painting above the altar of the church, the Church authorities in 1583, following Counter-Reformation principles, considered the fresco indecent, which is partly why it was allowed to deteriorate. Several later bishops commented on its beauty but its decline continued. We should be grateful that the image was not deliberately damaged or destroyed. The same composition, perhaps a copy of Piero’s, painted by Pier Francesco Fiorentino, was portrayed in the Vicar’s Palace at Certaldo, but that image of the Madonna was destroyed and only the canopy and angels survive. Fiorentino’s work was not quite as symmetrical as that of Piero.
An ancient representation of the gesture of Mary touching her womb is found in a 9th Century fresco in the crypt of Santa Prassede, Rome. Piero’s innovation in the iconography was to show Mary’s gown unlaced, prominently revealing her white underclothing. The white may be intended to stress her perpetual virginity and purity. Her under-dress opens slightly revealing her undergarment, which is painted in flesh-red, symbolising her humanity, which would be passed on to her son. The similarity of the shape of this opening in her garments to the shape of the vulva has been frequently noted by modern, post-Freudian interpreters, but this is probably unintentional, as it seems anachronistic in terms of 15th Century religious sensibilities. As the Madonna del Parto is an intentional symbol of parturition it is just possible that the shape refers to the end of the birth canal. However, if the shape has any symbolic intention it is more probably that of a wound, referring to Zechariah’s prophecy that a wound would pierce Mary’s heart [Lk.2:35]. A similar opening is seen in Mary’s cloak in the Motefeltro Altarpiece, which has sometimes been interpreted as referring to the Duke’s wife Battista’s death after childbirth.
In the Madonna del Parto, Mary is painted life-size, emphasising her reality and monumentality as a figure of faith. She is placed within a red tent, or tabernacle, lined with panels of fur, suggesting the warmth of her presence and the protection of the womb. The tent was originally surmounted by a conical roof, pointing towards heaven, like a royal pavilion or a tabernacle for a life-sized host. The effect implies that she is a figure who is eternally present within the church to appeal to for intercession. The imagery includes multiple layers of iconographic references, as one might expect within intellectual Renaissance art: As well as the obvious maternal imagery, she is being represented as the tabernacle for the Saviour, the Ark of the New Covenant, The Tabernacle of the Scriptures, the fulfilment of Hebrew prophesy and the bringer of the New Covenant in Christ. One of the many titles for Mary within the Roman Catholic Church is ‘Foederis Arca’, identifying her with the arc of the New Covenant. The arc in the Hebrew Tabernacle, had sacred contents including the tablets of the law and the showbread as reminders to the people of God’s covenant fulfilment of promises. It was covered by the mercy-seat of two cherubim above which God’s presence lived among his people. The symbolism of Mary as the ‘arc’ views her as carrying the treasure of Christ within her womb. He was the fulfiller of the promises of God through history, the fulfilment of the Law, and the bread of life. As the bearer of Christ Mary was thought to have been guarded in her pregnancy by cherubim; here in the fresco the two angels unveil her presence and aid in her protection, as well as offering protection to viewer. Mary is also being represented as the mother of the Church, so in some ways the security of the tabernacle which she provided for Christ is being represented as also present for Christ’s followers.
The tent may also suggest the ‘tabernacling’ of Christ within the womb of Mary and within the world through his incarnation, though this may be extending the metaphor further than Piero intended. The opening of John’s Gospel: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” literally uses the term “and ‘tabernacled’ among us” [Jn.1:14]. Piero’s personal scholarship would not have known this, but he might have been informed through his contact with classical scholars. The tent’s lining of pelts may be intentionally similar to the description of the linings for the tabernacle, which held the arc of the Covenant in the wilderness. That tent was stipulated to have ‘eleven curtains of goat skins’ joined together [Ex.26:7-9; 36:14-16]. Though those curtains, at 30 cubits, were far are longer than those represented here, they seem to relate to the eleven tiers of pelts represented inside Mary’s tent. The colour of Mary’s tent or canopy may also relate to the tabernacle, for crimson and purple were among the colours designated for God’s tent [Ex.35:6, 35].
Unlike the earlier paintings in which Piero created elaborate perspectives, here he created a much simpler composition, focusing us on Mary as the devotional subject. The angling of her body is deliberate, as it reveals her pregnancy more effectively than if she had been represented as directly facing the viewer (as in the Madonna della Misericordia). She rests her hand on her stomach. The representation of pregnant women was rare at the time in Italian art. She looks more like a strong country girl with whom locals could identify than an idealised elegant woman or Queen of Heaven, who would be expected to be portrayed with platonic beauty. She is not enthroned or crowned but wears blue, which traditionally represented her link to eternity and the heavenly dimension aspect of her calling, as well as her future Assumption.
The mirroring of the angels holding back the drapery to reveal Mary creates an arresting symmetrical effect, as Mary stands at an angle. They are drawn from the same cartoon, used in reverse and probably include some painting by Piero’s assistants.. The angels vary only in the light and expression on their faces and the colouring of their robes: one is clothed in red with blue wings, the other in green with pink wings. The variations in colour both of the angels’ garments and those of Mary, suggest the Greek idea of thesis and anti-thesis. They are part of the ‘Foederus Arca’ iconography, revealing Mary as the arc or tabernacle through which divine promise was realised. Just as the Arc of the Covenant was surmounted by a pair of cherubim, so Mary’s spiritual nature is being revealed or unveiled to humanity by this pair of angels. They may represent the idea that Mary is designated Queen of Heaven, yet has a human identity. The imagery of angels drawing aside a curtain or veil is a common iconographic way of representing a revelation. A sensitive feature is that Piero paints gilded haloes of the angels and Mary as though they are transparent and distort the view of the lining of the tent as though it is seen through them. This is evidently a product of Piero’s observation of the distortions created by looking through angled surfaces.
The pattern on the cloth of the tent, held back by the angels has been identified as a pomegranate by a few commentators, which they suggest is a symbol of maternity. I am not, however, convinced by this identification as it is rather different from the pomegranate motif on many contemporary images. It could equally be a pineapple or a thistle, motifs used by Piero elsewhere. The thistle could be a reference to her sinlessness, the pineapple to her rare sweetness. The pineapple was historically also used in art and design as a symbol of welcome, hospitality, friendship, and also to demonstrate wealth. The first three of these would certainly be relevant to this image of Mary, the fourth could suggest the glory now enjoyed by her and promised to the devotee. The pomegranate was more commonly used in the Renaissance as a symbol of eternal life, since it was associated with Pluto, the fruit of the underworld and the story of Persephone being allowed to return to earth for a season. It is just as likely that Piero was emphasising more that this is a rich fabric, rather like the cloth-of-gold that he represented in the Legend of the True Cross frescoes, the woven cloth of the biblical tabernacle, or a rich brocade emphasising Mary’s exalted position. Its colour is symbolic of the human flesh that she contributed to Christ in his incarnation, while she herself wears the colour of heaven in her blue dress.
This context of the mural has now altered even more than the cropping of the image though the transfer of the fresco to the museum in Monterchi. Yet it is important to use our imaginative abilities to consider the painting in its original context. This is true of any work of art, particularly one intended for devotion or contemplation. Like interpreting a passage of scripture, it is meaningful to consider what a work was intended to indicate when originally created and what it would have meant to contemporaries who first encountered it. Only them should we consider what it might mean today and how we interpret and apply its message to our own situation. Some feelings of superstition remain, as seen in the local devotion towards the Madonna del in Monterchi. Yet society and belief, our understanding of life, attitudes to conception and birth, and our relationship with Christ. Mary, angels and the saints have all altered greatly in the centuries between the Madonna del Parto and our modern world. In contemplating the meaning of the work to us we should compare its original intention, and traditions and superstitions that developed around it with our contemporary foundations of faith and trust.
MONTEFELTRO ALTARPIECE Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan. c1472-74?
The altarpiece is thought to have been designed for Federico da Montefeltro’s tomb, but it is disputed whether it was designed for the family mausoleum in the round temple in the Pasquino courtyard beside the façade of the Palazo Ducale in Urbino, the church of San Francesco, Urbino or the Franciscan Observants’ convent church of San Bernardino near Urbino. All of these had connections with the Montefeltro family. The latter church was not begun until 1482 and only completed in 1487. An uncorroborated 18th Century tradition suggested that the painting was commissioned in the year 1472, when the Duke’s wife Battista Sforza died in giving birth to their son Guidobaldo. The tradition also suggests that Piero gave Mary and Christ the features of the dead wife and her baby, but this is unlikely, as Mary looks very little like any surviving portraits of Battista. At about the same period, Federico commissioned an Altarpiece of the Institution of the Eucharist from Justus of Ghent, who worked for the Duke, for the high altar of the Church of the Corpus Domini, where he was a member of the confraternity. Both he and his son are represented in that altarpiece.
Some believe that the altarpiece was painted soon after the Arezzo frescoes before 1466, others suggest that it was begun in 1469. Yet other historians believe that as Piero used the same cartoon or drawing as he used for his portrait of Federico it was commissioned by a successor, Bernardino della Carda, after Federico’s death in 1482. However, most historians date it to between his second wife’s death in 1472 and his rise to dukedom in 1474. From reflectographs and X-rays we know that Federico’s hands have been repainted. The style implies that this repainting may have been by a Flemish artist, perhaps Justus of Ghent. At that time a third ring was added, possibly in memory of his late wife.
After the completion of Piero’s Montefeltro Altarpiece it is thought that it was placed temporarily in the observant Franciscan Church of San Donato, Urbino. It is not believed to have been commissioned for this church because St. Donato is not represented in the painting. On the completion of the church of San Bernardino near Urbino, the painting was transferred there and remained in the church until 1811 when it was transferred by Napoleon to the Brera. The Montefeltro Altarpiece is often also known as the ‘Brera Altarpiece’ after the gallery where it is now found. When Napoleon’s invaded Italy in 1811 he used the Brera Academy in Milan as a store for work looted from central and northern Italy in during his invasion . It was stored there prior to transportation of the entire cache to France. Piero painting had been extracted from Urbino and carried by Napoleon’s troops to Milan.
Federico is represented kneeling before Mary and the Christ-child dressed in armour, humbly having laid his helmet and gauntlets at their feet, almost as though he is offering himself unguarded into their service. The symbolism reflects his character both as a military leader and as a Christian humanist scholar. Piero probably used the same drawing or cartoon for the portrait in the altarpiece as he used for the double portrait of Federico and his wife in the Uffizi, but Piero slightly idealised the portrait in the altarpiece by omitting the warts, which he had included in the portrait panel. Piero’s painting in this work is of extremely high quality, displaying attention to details of a wide variety of textures: jewels, marble, polished metal, varied fabrics including cloth-of-gold. The armour is painted in carefully observed detail, including the nuts and bolts which held it together and precisely observed Milanese-style elbow-guards. Federico’s praying hands are strong and carefully detailed, showing, not just his rings, but also the scars on his knuckles probably caused by his contests. (It is probable that these have been repainted by another Northern artist.) This attention to fine detail was probably intended by Piero to rival the Northern European works, which were becoming fashionable in northern Italian courts. He kept to the tradition of showing the donor portrait in profile, as he had done in the double portrait of Federico and his wife, commissioned in 1472.
Unusually for a portrait of a donor, Federico is not represented as directly adoring the saints. Painted in profile, he stares straight before him. This may be implying that he is connected to them by a spiritual bond rather than by vision. Federico’s relationship with the Church had been varied through his career. He had a close friendship with Pope Sixtus IV but the College of Cardinals opposed him and refused his petition for the marriage of one of his daughters to the nephew of the Pope. However, after his retirement, he returned to favour at about the same time as the painting of this portrait. In August 1474 he was involved in a military victory that rescued Rome from the tyranny of Nicolò Vitelli, and Federico was made ‘Captain General of the Papal Armies’ in a ceremony on the steps of St. Peter’s. It is thought that Pope Sixtus IV raised him from being a count to the level of dukedom as an incentive to discourage him from offering his influence and military services to other princedoms. In the same year Federico received the Order of the Golden Fleece; the King of Naples awarded the Oder of the Ermine and the King of England conferred on him the Order of the Garter. This painting most probably dates to before this rise as it does not include references to any of his new rewards. If the painting was for a private commission, Federico might have intentionally had his awards omitted but he was not a humble figure and the drama of the altarpiece does not imply modesty. Federico celebrated a military victory at Volterra in June 1472, so this work could have been commissioned in commemoration or celebration of this.
The positioning of the scene before an apse, presumably containing an altar may deliberately carry a political as well as religious intent. It suggested that Federico was an important defender of the faith and was responsibly committed to the church, which was so dominantly represented by both the architecture and saints in the painting. Two finely observed details may further suggest this: On his shoulder-guard the arched window of the church is carefully reflected and the visor on his helmet also prominently forms a cross, while the whole helmet carefully reflects Federico’s sword and mail. The emphasis on the classical style of the architecture helps to emphasise the fashionable, classical humanist aspirations of Federico’s court. Piero had moved away from a gold gothic framework for the saints of traditional altarpieces, with either a gilded or painted background to the figures. Here he used his considerable skills in emulating perspective to create a realistic architectural setting. It may be following the developing Northern European iconography of showing Mary as ‘the Madonna of the Church’, seen in several works by Jan van Eyck, but painted for the first time in Italian art by Piero. The invented architecture is not just carefully detailed; Piero has exactly worked out the light effects on the coffered vault, fluted pilasters, marble panelling and the shell form of the apse. It is unclear why he used the shell, which is usually a feature of smaller alcoves, not in architecture of such a large scale. Perhaps it was a conceit, playing with scale, or a reference to the shells worn by those on pilgrimage. Statues or representations of Mary were often displayed in an alcove, tabernacle or ‘aedicula’ to emphasise her status and holiness, This painting gives this idea extra emphasis, showing her and the birth of her child as the focus of the whole church’s understanding of the source of salvation. The shell might also hold a classical symbolism, perhaps referring to the myth of the birth of Venus, implying the spiritual beauty of Mary or her child, or even the beauty and virtues of Federico’s recently deceased wife. The inclusion of the ostrich egg hanging within the compass of the shell suggests that it has some relation to birth. It seems no coincidence that the egg, which was regarded as an equally perfect natural form to Euclid’s regular forms appears to hang immediately above Mary’s head, which is itself an almost perfect oval of similar size.
The static pose of Mary and the saints gives them a somewhat visionary appearance. They feel as though they are spiritually present without being as physically solid as Federico and the architecture. This may be a product of my imagination rather than Piero’s intention, yet there is a similar static presence in many of Piero’s paintings of saints, which gives an impression that he intended to represent their invisible presence watching over the material world, rather than making them appear too physically alive. It is apparent in the figure of Christ in the Baptism and Resurrection, the Senegallia Madonna , the Nativity, the Madonna del Parto and the Mary Magdalene fresco. Making Mary larger in scale than all the other saints beside her, also suggests that Piero is deliberately making her presence more emphatic. He was so precise in his measurements and understanding of perspective, that her large scale cannot be accidental.
The same is probably true of the unusual pose of the Christ-child on Mary’s lap. He appears rather like a cut-out, who would slip off her open knees. Although he is ostensibly asleep, he also could be dead, an idea found in several figures of the Madonna and child, especially those intended for tombs. The suggestion is that within the birth of Christ is the promise of salvation beyond death through his sacrifice on the Cross. It may be related to the images in the Book of Revelation of the enthroned lamb looking as though he has been slain [Rev,5:6, 12; 7:10, 14; 22:3-4]. The iconography may be associated with the celebration of the feast of ‘Corpus Christi’. He lies on a blanket or mantle of pure white lambswool, which may be a reference to Jesus as the sacrificial ‘paschal lamb’ and the ‘Lamb of God’ [Jn.1:29]. As in Donatello’s pulpit in San Lorenzo, Florence, or Filippino Lippi’s Corpus Christi Frieze in the Capella Carafa, Rome, this could almost be a representation of the ‘pieta’. Christ wears a necklace of coral, which was another symbol for Christ’s blood and was also often given to children at birth, baptism or circumcision as an amulet to ward off the plague or disease. It rests on Christ’s chest in the same position as the spear wound which would be thrust into his side on the cross, and which St Francis behind him reveals in his stigmata, as he holds cross out towards the child and Federico. The coral indicates that Christ himself will be the healing protection for the world. If the Corpus Christi association is intentional, it also alludes to the Eucharistic body and blood. Jesus’ total nakedness demonstrates the creedal belief in Incarnation: this child is ‘fully man’ as well as ‘fully God’. The naked Christ-child’s genitals were often shown to emphasise that he was fully human. He will give his life for the salvation of humankind. Piero was so careful in his planning of compositions that it cannot be accidental that Jesus lies in a direct line with Federico’s praying hands and parallel to the duke’s scabbard and the diagonal line of the pattern of the dais on which Mary is enthroned. Perhaps this is intended to imply that salvation and healing will come as a result of Federico’s prayer and our intercessions for both him and his deceased wife.
St Jerome beats his breast penitentially with a stone in one hand while his left hand points towards Christ in the same direct diagonal line that runs through Jesus’ body to Federico’s praying hands. The wounds of Peter Martyr, St. Francis similarly point to Jesus’ feet. As in the Senigallia Altarpiece, the saints are not represented with halos, adding to the sense of naturalism. Mary’s head-covering originally included a star-shaped ornamental brooch, probably indicating the divine nature of the revelation of salvation that came through her. As with the opening of Mary’s dress in the Madonna del Parto, some critics have associated the shape of the opening of Mary’s cope in this altarpiece with the vulva. However, this may only be a modern, post-Freudian interpretation of the imagery. Mary’s royal robe is of green cloth-of-gold indicating that her origin is of the earth. The angular nature of its folds suggests the weight of the gold woven into it, as the gold predominates.
It is unusual that Federico is not represented as being presented before Christ, Mary and the saints by a patronal saint, which was normally the case in other contemporary altarpieces. Only the finger of John the Baptist appears to point directly towards him, and John is more likely to be indicating the Christ-child. Often a soldier would be presented by a military saint, but here none of the saints have directly military connections. The closest is St Francis, who holds a cross in front of Federico’s face and whose left hand , with its prominent stigmata is directly above the duke’s head. Although Francis had renounced his knightly ambitions he, like other Franciscans since, had supported the defence of the Holy Land, so his positioning so close to Federico may be helping to emphasise the duke’s role as a ‘defender of the faith’. The portrayal of Federico dramatically shows that this is an altarpiece commissioned by a ‘Christian soldier’ in the full armour of faith [Eph.6:11-17; 1Thess. 5:8]. As Mary is being shown as the ‘Madonna of the Church’, Federico is represented as a ‘Soldier of the Church’. He is shown praying, as Eph.6:18 requires: “Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints.” Whether it is as true a representation of Federico’s faith and character as it is of his likeness is not for us to judge. He was a powerful man, whose activities and rise to power had not always been particularly Christ-like. His faith would have taught him to be aware of his sins and encouraged him to recognise all the damage that his career and rise had caused. It would have taught him to recognise the need for absolution through the Church, which was obviously partly the object of this commission. This is also a political statement, encouraging the Church to recognise that this politically, materially, militarily and intellectually strong man was on the Church’s side. The work is not just a propagandist image celebrating or promoting the faith of this man. Nor is it just a way of gaining favour with the Church: Federico would have been taught to believe that God looks beyond our own promotion of ourselves or our virtues to others. The altarpiece may have been commissioned in an attempt to gain favour and remission of sins from God in response to Federico’s beautifying of the Church in providing a devotional altarpiece. Rather in the manner of a chantry-chapel, he may also have hoped that those contemplating the image would be encouraged to pray for blessings upon him and the repose of his soul.
The styles of hair in the altarpiece have been suggested to date the work to earlier than its usually agreed dating of between1472-74. However, Piero may have simply favoured this style rather than needing to make his paintings up-to-date in fashion. He had the representation of higher ideals in mind, and perhaps styling the clothes to an earlier decade might have suggested the antiquity of the saints. Federico’s armour has been dated to c.1455-60, and while the patron would have wanted to be portrayed in the most contemporary fashion, it is not inconceivable that the military commander in his early 50s might have wanted to be portrayed in the style of armour he wore when he was at his prime as a warrior. Alternatively, as we do not know how many suits of armour Federico would have worn, this suit may have been his favourite armour, or an earlier suit which he owned, which was loaned to the artist for the period of painting. The detail of its form and the clarity of reflections upon it imply that Piero was probably painting the armour from natural observation, so it may well have been in his workshop for some time. The Duke does not wear the honours bestowed upon him in 1474, so it has been presumed that the picture must have been completed before this time. Though modesty does not seem to have been high in Federico’s character or intentions, it is possible that he is deliberately kneeling before Christ, Mary and the saints, naked of his awards and only seeking spiritual reward. He has, after all, removed his helmet and gauntlets.
Federico’s first wife Gentile Brancaleoni had died in 1457. He married his second wife Battista Sforza of Pesaro in 1459 but she died in 1472 of pneumonia, not long after giving birth to her 9th child. He kneels to the left of the Virgin and Child, which would be the position most often taken by a wife when a double portrait of patrons is included in an altarpiece. This position was probably intentional (as in the double portrait in the Uffizi, as it hid scars from Federico’s battles and tournaments. He had lost his right eye in a jousting tournament in 1447 and damaged the bridge of his nose, giving him his distinctive profile. As with the battle scars of mediaeval knights, disfigurement was not necessarily regarded as a disadvantage, as it aided his reputation for being ‘the eagle’, associating him with being powerful, ‘eagle-eyed and dangerous. His helmet appears to be dented, which could refer to his jousting accident or his successful activity in battle. This may also be referred to in the figures of St Francis showing his stigmata and Peter Martyr’s prominent head wound behind him. He may have been deliberately chosen to be represented in the more subservient position to indicate a humility that was not commonly apparent in his nature. Other commentators suggest that the imbalanced, non-symmetrical composition, with Federico looking towards an empty space at the feet of the Virgin and Child, may deliberately indicate the loss of his second wife, who had recently died and who one would have expected to be represented in the vacant space facing him. I find this last interpretation particularly convincing; it seems in harmony with the intellectual choices which Piero often made in the planning his works.
This was a new form of altarpiece for Italy, based on the Flemish fashion, painted as a single scene on one panel made from 9 horizontal planks, rather than in multiple panels. It is painted in oil paint, in a manner derived from Flemish art, with a wide variety of textures, to demonstrate the artist’s skills in conveying various materials: carpet, the ostrich egg, flesh, crystal, coral, armour, various weights and textures of cloth and embroidery. The figures are set before an alcove with a quarter-hemispherical head, which on further examination is revealed to be an apse, decorated with the classical motif of a scallop shell. As with the Flagellation, Piero created a strong illusion of architectural space. Although the space at first appears fairly shallow, since the figures are ranged as a long group before the architecture, the perspective has been calculated to represent an interior of about 45ft. in depth. Reflectographs and X-rays show that the architecture was carefully drawn out in metal-point. The setting makes the scene appear monumental. Sadly the frame that Piero designed for the painting was destroyed. The painting is now displayed unframed, which may be the case of some the warping of the board behind Mary’s face, damaging the area around Mary’s eyes. Most other areas of the painting are in good condition, having had yellowed varnish and ineffective retouching removed. It demonstrates the quality of preparation and execution that Piero put into his paintings. Sadly the lower plank of the painting has been cut down and the right side shaved slightly. These losses have somewhat damaged the architectural effect, the symmetry and the perspectival lead into the composition, which would have been given by the step on which Federico kneels.
It is probably that the architecture does not represent a particular church, though the architecture has been related to the architecture of Sta. Costanza, Rome, the Roman arch at Malborghettto near Udine, the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Ravenna and the Badia in Fiesole. It is more likely that Piero was imagining the ideal of the Church, both the Church Triumphant (represented by Mary and the Saints) and the Church Militant (represented by Federico da Montefeltro). If this interpretation is correct, the presence of the egg might imply the resurrection to which Federico and his wife aspired, in which they would have joined the Communion of Saints represented on the altarpiece.
The geometry of the composition is particularly complex. In his treatise on perspective, Piero showed how to construct buildings in perspective, particularly the drawing of an apse and cross-vault and coffered vaults. The precision of this drawing was used in the designing of this image. As with the Baptism a complicated geometrical patterning underlies the whole composition, which holds symbolic meanings, but various scholars interpret this differently.
From the arch hangs an ostrich egg, which has been given many interpretations. It has been related to a perfect mathematical shape, the perfect beauty of Mary whose head is positioned directly below it, and an allusion to the recent birth of Federico’s son. In his treatise on perspective, Piero demonstrated how to represent a ring hanging from a vault, which has been associated with this detail, as well as the ring above the Annunciation fresco in the Legend of the True Cross. In Christian symbolic iconography, which elaborated the legends and symbolism of the eastern bestiary, the egg could represent Christ’s incarnation or a prefiguration of his resurrection. The association of eggs with fertility and fecundity may refer either to Mary’s womb, Christ’s miraculous birth, the life-giving nature of Christ’s offer of salvation, or the fertility of Federico’s wife Battista Sforza. The choice of an ostrich egg as a subject, however, is more specifically related to the Incarnation. The ostrich in the Bestiary legends was said to leave its egg unattended in the desert. The chick had to hatch and develop on its own. It was seen as a symbol of Christ being left on earth by God and leaving heaven for an earthly life. The egg was also used as a symbol of resurrection, leaving the old shell to gain a new life and form. This may be intended to refer to the promise of new life beyond death for Battista. Eggs had often been placed on ancient tombs as symbols of regeneration, which may relate to this painting being intended for Federico’s own tomb, or may refer to his hope and prayer for his recently departed wife. Lavin claims that eggs were often suspended in churches in this way, but I have not personally discovered examples of this. In Mantegna’s Sant’ Zeno Altarpiece (c1460-65) an elaborate gilt and crystal votive oil lamp hanging above the Madonna and Child is surmounted by an ostrich egg, In that case it is accompanied by swags of fruit, vegetables and nuts, the symbolism of which tell the whole story of Salvation. In the Montefeltro Altarpiece the egg hangs simply from a thread, adding a sense of simplicity and purity to a carefully arranged sacred group. Yet it also contributes to the sense that the picture is also about mystery. The egg is not of course directly above Mary’s head, but about 45 feet behind her, adding to the sense that this is a conceit, an optical illusion created by perspective. Piero was also exaggerating the size of the egg, which would have appeared far smaller at that distance.
The architecture is designed in extreme detail, with precise perspective. Perhaps the dramatic architectural setting may have been influenced by Masaccio’s Trinity, which Piero would have seen in Florence. Although the space behind the group appears like a fairly shallow niche, the calculation that the architecture is far more monumental and that the space behind far deeper adds drama and power to the imagery. Before the sides and bottom had been cut down the approach to the group would have been more dramatic and the transepts reaching out to the left and right would have given the whole an even greater sense of awe. The relationship between the monumental figure of Mary and the architecture may be intended to reflect the idea of Mary as Mother of the Church ‘Maria Ecclesia’ as well as being the tabernacle of the child Christ. The whole scene shows an earthly noble as a defender of the Church in the presence and under the protection of the Church Triumphant in heaven, who he is honouring and emulating in his won mission. He is probably interceding for his deceased wife in the presence of Mary, the perfect example of motherhood and the Christ-child to whom he looks for redemption.
POLYPTYCH OF SAINT ANTHONY Galleria Nazionale dell-Umbria, Perugia. 338 x 230 cm.
This was painted for the convent of tertiary order of Franciscan nuns of St. Anthony in Perugia, probably commissioned by the prioress Flavia Baglioni, for whose house Piero had also produced work in 1437-8. An extension for the church, reserved for the community was built c1455, with a further extension for visitors built c1482. The Altarpiece changed position several times, first at the altar of the outer church before 1608, then the sacristy, then the altar of the inner church from 1671-78. It is thought by some that the arrangement of the panels may have been altered at this later date, and the predella removed. Napoleon suppressed the convent c1810 and had the polyptych moved to the local Pinacoteca, perhaps with the idea of later confiscating the work. It may have been renovated and reconstructed at this time to include the removed panels. Recent restoration has suggested that it is probably almost entirely the work of Piero himself.
The proportions of this polyptych are unusually tall and thin. It is thought that Piero probably designed the arrangement of the original frame himself, rather than having it imposed on him by an extant frame, unlike the Polyptych of the Misericordia. If so, the unusual proportions are of Piero’s own design. As with the Baptism triptych, the saints flanking the Madonna and Child are set against tooled gold rather than realistic settings, but they stand on a marble floor seen painted in precise perspective, as do the saints on the other panels. Unusually, they cast shadows on the gold at their feet.. The gold is tooled in an unusual way; some of its decoration has disappeared over time, yet, rather than being left flat to represent the light of the heavenly dimension, it is richly incised in a ‘pineapple’ pattern, rather like the decoration of damask. This makes the glory of heaven appear particularly rich. Its elaboration contrasts strongly with the simplicity of human life, lived by the particular saints represented in the piece and espoused by the discalced nuns of the priory. In the Madonna del Parto the gold, elliptical haloes of Mary and the angels were unusually painted to appear transparent. Here they are also unusually painted to reflect the tops of the heads of the saints, like polished mirrors. This again shows Piero’s fascination with optics.
The pointed top of the Annunciation panel seems strange, as it destroys the effectiveness of the building’s perspective, but this now appears to be its original form, not the result of cutting down of an original arch or flat top, as was once thought. Despite being reassembled, the arrangement of the panels is as described by Vasari, though the gothic arches and pilasters are not original. Various critics have commented on a sense of disunity in the overall effect of the altarpiece, and suggest that this might be due to its having been completed in different phases over a wide number of years, but recently discovered documentation implies that Piero worked on it between 1465 and early 1468.
It is arranged in four tiers:
Annunciation
Madonna and child enthroned, flanked by (from left to right) St Anthony of Padua, John the Baptist, St. Francis holding a Mt. Verna cross. St. Elizabeth of Hungary.
St Clare, an empty central roundel and St. Lucy. Unusually these are painted on the same panel as the saints above them, rather than on separate panels. The central roundel may have originally contained an image from the life of John the Baptist or his severed head, as he is not represented in the lower panels of the predella. It may even have housed a relic, as this was a hinged or removable panel.
The lower predella panels show a miracle from the lives of each of the saints in the main tier: St. Anthony Resurrecting a Child, The Stigmatisation of St. Francis, St. Elizabeth of Hungary Rescuing a Child from a Well.
Though unusual, the double predella was not unknown in altarpieces in Umbria and the Marches.
Mary is sumptuously robed in a crimson dress, shot with gold. The red indicates that she is of human flesh and emphasises that through her Christ became incarnate. This cloth-of-gold implies her special regal status in heaven, as it was only worn by the most noble or royal. (It is also worn by an angel in the Montefeltro Altarpiece, indicating that he is an archangel). Over Mary’s red dress her blue cloak indicates her heavenly supremacy and the divine blessing upon her. This contrasts with the humility of the grey-brown woollen robes of the three Franciscan saints who accompany her. The throne on which she sits with her son appears to be carved of marble with a cover, rather like the coffered niche of the Montefeltro Altarpiece, decorated with rosettes and guilloche patterns. All the figures appear strong, but the infant Christ appears particularly robust. His genitals are displayed prominently as a sign that emphasises that God has taken human form. He blesses with his right hand and holds a bunch of cherries in the other, as a sign of the sweetness and fecundity that has come from the womb of Mary in front of which he holds them. Joined cherries can represent the sweet union of love. Here they may represent the union of the divine and human in Christ, Jesus and Mary, or Christ’s love and unity with us his people.
Between the angel and Mary in the Annunciation is a deep arcade of columns reaching away in perspective, ending in a marbled wall. Several historians have noted the similarity of the architecture to Sta. Costanza in Rome, but with his knowledge of architecture and contacts with architects and craftsmen, Piero could easily have invented the arcade. In traditional iconography, between them the figures of the Angel and Mary, a vase holding an annunciation lily would normally have been positioned. As one has not been painted, this may have been a sculpted element of the original frame, as in Baldovinetti’s contemporary Annunciation in San Miniato al Monte, Florence (1466-7). Normally in a polyptych the Annunciation panel might have been relegated to the predella; here it is given more prominence, relating it more noticeably to the Madonna and Child below and emphasising Christ’s incarnation and divine origins. The deeply recessed corridor or cloister between Mary and the angel is probably intentionally symbolic, giving emphasis to the great difference between the dimensions of heaven and earth which Christ crossed in becoming human in Mary’s womb. The light streaming into this space is both natural and supernatural. Natural light casts the shadows of the left-hand pillars of the across the floor while strongly illuminating the pillars closest to Mary. (It may be significant that the colonnade consists of 10 sets of these pillars, which may represent the Commandments of the Old Covenant, which Jesus is fulfilling and advancing.) Above the shadowed pillars the dove of the Holy Spirit creates a spiritual light, (rather like that in the interior of the praetorium in the Flagellation). This radiates lines of gold towards the Virgin Mary.
A fascinating detail is seen where the gold rays cross or touch the architecture in the spandrels of the arches around Mary. The carved stone appears to change from black to red, as though the dead past in becoming alive with red, the colour traditionally associated with ‘Caritas’/‘Outgiving Love’. This may just be the effect of the red bole underpainting, but it adds to the sense of meaning. This colour is then repeated in the flesh-tones of Mary’s dress and the floor of the space in which she and the angel are set. This may imply the presence of love in the buildings where the Franciscan nuns lived and from which they ministered through prayer and charity. Another noticeable detail is the parallel between the dove radiating light towards Mary in the Annunciation and the vision of the Crucifix radiating light towards St. Francis in the central panel of the predella below. They balance each other as the crucifix is at the same angle as the dove’s rays and its power is then reflected back towards the saint and founder of the order which worship before this polyptych.
The figure of St John the Baptist is dressed in a scarlet-red cloak signifying his martyrdom. With Piero’s interest in balancing colours across his paintings, the red cloak, like the pink flowers of St Elizabeth pick up the colour of Mary’s robe. The work is painted in careful detail, as in the Montefeltro Altarpiece, which may suggest a similarity in date of execution. Piero also painted the figure of St. Francis in the same pose as in that Montefeltro Altarpiece.
In the predella paintings the light and shadow in scenes and the arrangement of the figures create a rhythm across the width of the altarpiece. The depiction of St. Francis’s stigmatization in the central panel is unusual and dramatic in being set against a dark, night-time background. Each of the three scenes is painted in fairly neutral tones, against which the main focus of the scene is painted in red to add to the emphasis. We focus on the place where the miracles of their patronal saints are taking place - the bed of the child, the dress of St Elizabeth, and particularly the glowing crucifix radiating the stigmata towards Francis and illuminating the night-time scene.
SENIGALLIA MADONNA Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, Urbino. c1478-80?
This panel in tempera and oil was discovered in 1822 in the Franciscan church of Santa Maria della Grazie on the outskirts of the city of Senegallia on the Adriatic coast. The town of Senigallia had been transferred to the patronage of Federico da Montefeltro from Sigismondo Malatesta in 1462 and the painting probably dates from late in the next decade, from the late 1470s or early 1480s, perhaps 1478 – 80. The church had been reconstructed from a smaller chapel in 1491 under the patronage of Giovanni della Rovere and his wife Giovanna da Montefeltro. Giovanni and Giovanna had married in 1478, having been espoused in 1474 so the painting could have been in celebration of this or commissioned in thanks for the birth of their son and heir in 1490. Around 1480 the couple had believed themselves to be unable to have children and had moved to new apartments in the Rocca at Senigallia, so the theme of the Virgin and Child could have related to this or have been commissioned as an offering in prayer for a child. (The date of 1490 is unlikely for Piero’s execution of the work as a thank-offering for their son, as Piero is supposed to have lost his sight by then.) It is certainly possible or even probable that the Montefeltro family could have commissioned the painting. A few critics believe it was originally commissioned by Federico da Montefeltro on the death of his wife Battista Sforza, as the Christ-child is said to resemble the young Guidobaldo and the interior is said to resemble the Palazzo Ducale, Gubbio, where Batista died, but, to me, the former explanations seem more convincing. The grander Montefeltro Altarpiece seems more fitting to have been Federico’s tribute to Battista, alongside their double portrait, again commissioned after her death. The attribution of the Senegallia Madonna to Piero has been contested: several early critics attributed it to his workshop assistants, but in recent years it has been more regularly attributed to Piero himself.
The theme probably derives from apocryphal gospels, where angels were supposed to have visited the Madonna and Child at home. It may also have links to legends of the Holy House of Loretto. The same idea of angels visiting a domestic setting is found in Filippo Lippi’s Madonna di Tarquinia, or Botticelli’s Madonna of the Magnificat. The painting and the interior especially seem to be influenced by Netherlandish painting, which was being increasingly collected in northern Italy, particularly the House of Montefeltro at Urbino. The work is painted in tempera and oil on a walnut panel, following the Flemish tradition. The colours are soft and harmonic. The composition is central, though the angels on either side of Mary and Jesus are not symmetrical as in the Madonna del Parto.
Like the Madonna del Parto, this Mary, as well as her setting, is domestic and not idealised. She is sturdy, represented in three-quarter length and shown in a contemporary Renaissance domestic interior, rather than an ecclesiastical setting or throne room. She wears a plain flesh-red dress, laced simply at the front, emphasising her humanity, with a grey woollen mantle, green cloak and a plain white organdie head-covering. There are no jewels or suggestions of glory other than on the blue angel behind her. Her forehead seems to be shaved high in the current fashion. Her eyes are lowered, as though in thought, humility or quiet reverence, recognising the greater importance of her son. She holds Jesus’ toes in an unusual way, which is more a domestic feature, perhaps derived from observation rather than representing elegance. If the picture was intended to occupy a raised position this might imply that she is looking down towards the viewer, but Jesus and the left-hand angel appear to be looking us as though the viewer is straight ahead. (She may of course be looking towards a kneeling or prostrate worshipper).
The effect of light, tone and colour are emotive. The Virgin and Child are represented in a grey domestic interior with a classically ornamented pilaster supporting shelves holding two baskets. St. Ambrose had described Mary using the symbol of a wicker basket (fiscella scirpea). One basket contains light cloths, which may be symbolic of the veil of mystery overshadowing both the incarnation and the Eucharist or the veils in the Temple, which Mary was said, in legend, to have woven and sewn. She was also said to have woven Christ’s grave clothes. Both the humility and humanity of Christ and Mary were described as veils in which the divinity of God veiled himself (humilitas filialis). The small box on the upper shelf is probably a pyx containing the bread of the sacrament, symbolising the presence of Jesus as the Bread of Life. The ornamentation is surmounted by a flaming torch, which could be intended to represent the activity of the Holy Spirit or the Easter Pascal flame.
Beyond this room we look into a smaller room into which light is shafting onto the wall, through dust particles, from half-shuttered, leaded windows. In Northern European art this would more often be a setting for an Annunciation, rather than an image of the Virgin and Child, as the room seems to be Mary’s chamber. It gives the impression of intimacy, a quiet place or cell for retreat where one might meet God in contemplation as in Mary’s Annunciation encounter. The light passing through particles of dust has been suggested to relate to a treatise on optics which Piero may have known by the Iraqui mathematician Alhazen, and which circulated in Italian Renaissance courts. When viewed in detail it is apparent that the reflection is made up of many droplets of water, perhaps intending to suggest the rain from heaven or spiritual dew that nurtures and nourishes the earth gently [Hosea 14:5]. It could also be an innovative way of representing the presence of the Holy Spirit, permeating in light through Mary to form her child. The interior is very close to the interiors of Netherlandish paintings, though it also resembles Mary’s cell or chamber, represented in Italian paintings of the Annunciation. The open door and the open window shutter are common symbols of Mary’s openness in offering her womb for God’s use in bearing the child. One of her titles is “Door to Heaven” / “Porta Coeli”.
Jesus is large, chubby and unidealised, more like the naturalistic Christ-child represented in many Northern European paintings. He is ‘real’, not a beautiful infant, which may intentionally refer to the Italian concept of ‘brutto-bello’/ beauty in ugliness’ as discussed in the figure of Christ in the Resurrection fresco. Jesus is posed in a relaxed way in the crook of Mary’s arm, though her pose does not seem as though she is carrying a baby of any substantial weight. His pose and robe, a child’s toga, suggest that we are in the presence of a classical philosopher rather than an infant. This may be intentional in a Renaissance world where classical scholarship was united with Christian faith: Piero seems to be representing Christ’s wisdom and intellect. He lifts his right hand in a gesture of blessing rather than in oration. In his left hand he holds a white rose, symbolising his and his mother’s purity and the peace he offers, but also the thorns of suffering, through which he would achieve salvation. Against his naked breast he wears a necklace and pendant of coral, traditionally given to children to ward against disease, particularly plague. (Plague had recently ravaged Borgo San Sepolcro and the surrounding area.) The form and colour of coral was also symbolically associated with the blood of the Saviour. Christ himself will bring healing to the world as well as wisdom and the knowledge of God. If the painting is related to Giovanni and Giovanna’s supposed barrenness, Jesus and his mother may be associated with their own prayers for healing. Unlike the Montefeltro Altarpiece, Christ is not naked, but the amount of chest visible through his open toga emphasises his humanity: God has become flesh and will give his life for humankind. This is an devotional image for a domestic setting, offering spiritual protection and blessing, comfort and peace within the security of salvation.
The presence of the angels adds a certain formality, as though they, as in the Madonna del Parto, are participants in revealing this vision of the Virgin and Child to the viewer and guardians of the holy pair. Yet they remain in the background: Mary and her Child are being revealed to us and Christ is blessing us in a personal and intimate way. The hair of the angels is simple and unadorned. One angel in blue-grey looks out at us, inviting us to draw into the scene, the angel in flesh-pink looks out beyond the scene, as if peering back into eternity. The angel in blue-grey is more elaborately dressed, with a gold collar and gold embroidery on his shoulder and sleeve. His crystal pendant perhaps suggests the all-seeing nature of eternity. His status suggests that he may be the angel of the Annunciation, still present both to protect the holy pair and draw us towards them, or an archangel. The angel dressed in flesh-coloured robes wears a simple ruched collar and a string of pearls, symbolising the purity, preciousness and riches to be found in Christ and his mother. Both angels have their arms crossed reverentially, as in the traditional pose of the angels of the Annunciation, used frequently by Fra Angelico. Their physiognomies too are not idealised, though they are both faces that Piero had used before. They resemble the angels to the side of Piero’s Baptism of Christ, but are dressed more conventionally, rather than in classical robes.
MADONNA AND CHILD ENTHROUNED BETWEEN ANGELS S. & F. Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Mass.
The attribution of this painting to Piero is questioned by many historians, but it is very close to his style and has many features that lead to its identification as a work by the master, or at least a very able, close assistant or follower. The elaborate varied gestures of the angels and Christ are unusual for Piero’s paintings. The figures have a certain stiffness, but that could also be said of many of Piero’s compositions. The craquelure of the oil-painting suggests that the preparation of the panel was not as exact as Piero usually used. It has also been suggested that the elaborate decoration of the architecture is untypical of Piero, but there are key similarities with the architectural background to the Senigallia Madonna, the Montefeltro Altarpiece and Sigismondo Malatesta before St. Sigismund. However the architecture seems more linear and less weight-sustaining than in much of Piero’s work and the swags in the distance are flatter than those of the Sigismondo Fresco. The consistent direction of the light on the figures and the one shadow on the step of the dais are consistent with Piero’s authorship, if one examines the floor of the Montefeltro Altarpiece. It could be that the work was designed and begun by Piero, with details completed by talented assistants.
In the 16th Century a work resembling it in description belonged to the Gherardi family in Borgo San Sepolcro and was attributed to Piero in a 1583 record of the collection of Jacomodi di Bernardino Gherardi. This was bought in Florence in 1837 by Lord Walter Trevelyan and his wife, and held in their English private collection. It was sold at Christies in 1869 with a provenance that connected it to the private collection in Sansepolcro. It came into the Williamstown Collection in 1957.
The setting appears to be in a pillared courtyard with a finely carved cornice. Mary and the Christ-child are raised on a dais carved with seven visible roses. She offers her son a rose, which he reaches out to take. The rose with a thorn has often been used as a Christian symbol of suffering through the crown of thorns. So this is probably an intentional image of Christ embracing the Passion in order to bring about salvation. Mary wears a translucent veil similar to that in the Senigallia Madonna. On her forehead is a simple diadem, rather like the one that was originally on the forehead of the Madonna in the Montefeltro Altarpiece.
In the background of the Montefeltro Altarpiece are four angels, all of which have similar features to the angels in the Williamstown Madonna and Child. Here also four angels surround Mary and Jesus, all with different gestures: From left to right: the arms of the angel in profile are crossed in devotion; the next has his hand resting humbly on his hips; the third has crossed arms, and the right hand angel points to Christ almost in a gesture of blessing with his hand resting at his side. This angel has the same features as the angel to the right of the Senigallia Madonna, yet has darker hair. As in the Senigallia Madonna, these angels seem slightly detached rather than emotionally involved in their devotion. This may be intentional, to show that the devotion of heaven varies from human emotion. The dress of the angels is relatively simple, with simply embroidered cuffs, collars and hems, rather than the elaborate embroidery of some of Piero’s middle-period paintings. They are closer to the clothes of the right hand angel in the Senigallia Madonna or the angels in the Baptism of Christ. The central angel in the Baptism has very similar features and the same floral garland as the angel behind the Christ-child. The angel to the left casts a shadow on the step of the dais, which is the only shadow cast in the picture though the far legs of both front angels are in shadow. The angel on the right looks out at us, as if to draw us into the scene. This use of a figure to engage and direct our vision is also true of the right hand angel in the Baptism, those in the Madonna del Parto, the figure immediately behind the Queen of Sheba in the Legend of the True Cross, the guards and resting steward in The Dream of Constantine, the gaze of Mary Magdalene in Arezzo Cathedral and John the Baptist in the Montefeltro Altarpiece. This angel has very similar features to the angel in red behind St. Jerome in the Montefeltro Altarpiece and the physiognomies of two other angels are close to other angels in the same altarpiece. The folds of their robes, while resembling those of other Piero works, are slightly stiffer and more linear. These similarities are so close that one has difficulty in not attributing the work to Piero, or an assistant who had absorbed his imagery and skills.
Jesus is a represented as a very robust baby. He is more emotional and realistic in his features than the child in the Senegallia Madonna. His pose, in reaching for the rose, is similar to the pose of the new-born Christ in the Nativity. This makes the meaning of the painting clear: Christ has come to embrace humanity through willingly accepting suffering the suffering of his Passion. Yet the beauty and fragrance of the rose implies that Christ’s Passion is also a positive action for humankind.
TREATISE ON THE ABACUS /Trattato d’ abaco
Vasari mentions that Piero wrote several mathematical treatises, though we know only three.
This 170 page treatise declares that it was planned to discuss mathematics “necessary to merchants” but its application reaches beyond this. It is written in the Tuscan vernacular, but its contents are not necessarily entirely original, as it borrows much from existing mathematical primers. Piero’s geometrical exercises are far more complex than those in Alberti’s ‘Elements of Painting’ (Elementi di Pittura), which are more directly orientated towards measuring objects and organising dimensions. It seems obvious that it was not written for a school as it is more complex than the teaching of an abacus school. Piero quotes Euclid, Archimedes and Pythagoras on the proportions and sizes of solids. The work methodically moves through an explanation of fractions and exercises, the nature of calculations and various problems of increasing difficulty. He discusses problem-solving by two-and three-dimensional geometry, and surveying by calculating distances through the use of angles of triangulation. Each problem is introduced with an anecdote explaining its relevance.
Although the treatise opens with an invocation for God’s help, this may simply be a common expression. The treatise is not particularly religious in nature and does not discuss the mystical or theological elements of mathematics and geometry as developed by Platonism, which were popular in the contemporary intellectual circles among which Piero moved and which Piero used in his painting. Plato and Euclid understood that the world had been created through five ideal forms (tetrahedron, cube, octahedron, icosahedron and dodecahedron,) and Piero discussed their forms and their relation to the sphere in his section on solid geometry. Piero explained the practical aesthetics of proportion, which he used in developing the beauty and serenity of his paintings. He employed algebraic measurements to explain form. In this treatise, he did not actually mention the Golden Ratio as a ‘divine proportion’, which was discussed by Euclid, Plato and other Renaissance theorists. Yet he explained the golden section and wrote of its proportions and the Platonic shapes as examples of beauty.
TREATISE ON PERSPECTIVE IN PAINITING: De Prospectiva Pingendi (after1459)
This was written after Piero’s return from Rome about 1459 and was probably influenced by moving among the humanist circles there. It was originally written in the vernacular, and was not originally given a specific title, but he had the manuscript later translated into Latin by a classical scholar, rather than attempting his own translation. Piero would have learned basic Latin early in his education, but was probably not confident in using it officially as a language, even in his maturity. By contrast with his former writing, he was more confident about how to construct a treatise, as this is far more clearly planned, though he does not seem to have felt confident enough in it as a humanist document to try initially to interest a high-born patron in sponsoring it. However, on its completion, he dedicated it to the Montefeltro court at Urbino, presenting the untitled manuscript in the popular tongue, which we now know by its Latin title ‘De Prospectiva Pingendi’ to the library of Federico II of Urbino in 1474.
Ghiberti, Brunelleschi and Alberti had worked out the principles of perspective before him, but Piero made them more exact, attempting to explain perspective scientifically and mathematically, through his interest in optics, numbers and geometry. He reduced even natural objects to measurable geometric forms. Piero claims that he intended the work for practical use to painters, not just theory. However, the mathematics of the work is far too complex for practical everyday artists. He called painting in perspective “a true science” and wrote meticulous instructions on how to draw a wide variety of object in geometrical perspective. He also recognised that several artists were wary of the use of perspective, as he wrote: “many painters are against perspective... therefore it seems to me that I ought to show how necessary this science is to painting.” Several contemporary critics, who he called ‘detractors’, also pointed out that the rigid use of geometrical perspective could sometimes distort the forms in an image. Some noted that the perspective created on a flat plane is different from that perceived by the curvature of the eye. Piero countered this. Michelangelo would later be quoted by Vasari as being content with rule of thumb and training the eye and hand to estimate visual truth rather than attempting precision and clarity through geometrical or mathematical perspective. The complexity of this treatise, particularly the third book, makes it appear to be more designed for the library of a humanist scholar than for the practical use of artists, few of whom would have had Piero’s drive for perfection of detail. It took a scholar like Albrecht Dürer to be able to apply Piero’s work.
Piero only addressed the linear and geometric aspects of perspective, though he recognised that colour and composition also related to perspective. He talks of three different perspectives; ‘natural perspective’ (the world as it is seen by the eye), ‘artificial perspective’ (geometric perspective drawn by a draughtsman) and ‘painters’ perspective’ (what is seen within the limited range of about 60 degrees in the artist’s visual range, if not too close to the objects). He also discussed the contrast between the ‘appearance’ of something - “the eye”, and our knowledge of the true size and shape of things which we see - “the intellect”. He was attracted to Plato and Galen’s ideas that vision was created by the eye focusing the power of the mind, sending visual rays towards the world beyond us, rather than vice versa. He quoted Euclid in exploring the ideas of proportion and shapes, based on Euclid’s ‘Elements’ and ‘Optics’, but he did not mention Archimedes. It has been suggested that he may also have known Pecham’s ‘Perspectiva Communis’. The treatise is divided into three books and shows in increasing complexity the application of perspective to flat planes, three dimensional objects and irregularly shaped objects. Piero, like Pecham attempted both geometrical and arithmetical proofs of perspective. Not only are the examples drawn in linear perspective, but many of the pages carry numerical calculations and mathematical explanations of the perspective. However, he does not always explain his calculations as the Greek mathematicians he admired would have done. While the first two books are similar to Alberti’s ideas in ‘On Painting’, the third book is much more complex, though using the same principles of tracing lines from points on objects and drawing them towards a flat plane or window.
The three books are based on drawing, measurement and colouring. Though they are intended for the work of artists and architects, they apply most specifically to architects and draughtsmen. Book One explores points, lines and 2-dimensional geometry. It contains exercises on representing buildings in perspective, including drawing the ground-plan of an octagonal building in perspective, drawing elevations of faceted columns, foreshortening details of windows and doors in perspective. Book Two is based on measurement (‘commensuratio’) and perspective (‘perspectiva’). It deals with the solid geometry of cubes, square pilasters, round and fluted columns. It includes exercises on representing a temple and church in perspective, round and octagonal windows, cross-vaults and rows of columns in perspective. Book Three explores the perspective and geometry for the construction of capitals and bases and geometric rings (‘torchi’ or ‘mazzocchi’) and also the form and perspective of human heads. He shows how to show a number of forms in perspective and from different angles: columns, bases, capitals, the architectural orders, churches, apses, vaults. He shows the human head in plan, elevation and foreshortened and how to foreshorten images of a cupola, apse and vase or wine-cooler on a plinth.
The famous Renaissance mathematician Luca Pacioli, who had been born in Borgo San Sepolcro, was younger than Piero. He discussed mathematics with the artist, perhaps in their home town, but also when they were working together at the court of Urbino. Vasari’s claim that Pacioli stole his ideas from Piero’s is slightly exaggerated, though he certainly copied large parts of Piero’s written work and published it under his own name. Pacioli had joined the Franciscan order c1470 and continued his studies in mathematics in Venice before returning to Borgo San Sepolcro. He moved on to work in several Renaissance courts, including working for the Sforzas in Milan, at the same time as Leonardo da Vinci who produced 60 illustrations tor his treatise on Divine Proportion. In Urbino Pacioli tutored Federico’s son Guidobaldo, to whom he later dedicated his ‘Summa de Arithmetica’ (1494). In both that work and his second book ‘On Divine Proportion’ / ‘De Divina Proportione’ (written 1497 and published in 1509) he praised Piero, first as “the prince of modern painting” then as “the monarch of our times of painting and architecture”... and drew attention to “the book about perspective that can be found in the magnificent library of our most illustrious Duke of Urbino”. However it is probable that his failure to emphasise Piero’s achievements in mathematics is due to the fact that much of the section on geometry in Pacioli’s own treatise was directly plagiarised from Piero’s ‘Treatise on the Abacus’ and his section on shapes was a direct copy in Italian translation of the whole of Piero’s ‘Book of Five Regular Solids’.
Piero’s work went on to influence other major treatises on perspective written later in the Renaissance by Sebastiano Serlio in Bologna, Jean Pélerin in France, Dürer’s ‘The Painter’s Manual’ in Germany, (1525) and the Venetian Daniele Barbaro’s ‘Practica della Perpectiva’ (1568/69). (Barbaro also produced modern Latin and Italian editions of Vitruvius’ ‘De Architectura’ and commissioned Palladio’s Villa Barbaro, decorated with frescoes by Veronese.)
TREATISE ON THE FIVE REGULAR SOLIDS / Libellus de Quinque Corporibus Regularibus c1482-92
Piero’s third small book is written in Latin. Piero may have written it originally in vernacular Tuscan, as with the treatise on the Abacus, but only a Latin copy survives.
It explored the qualities of the five basic Platonic shapes and the used the Golden Ratio and other new methods to calculate and render more complex polyhedra. In it, Piero seems to have revised and expanded parts of his treatises on the abacus and perspective sometime after 1482. It is dedicated to Guidobaldo, the son of Federico da Montefeltro, who had succeeded father, after his death in that year, so it must have been completed sometime between 1482 and Piero’s own death in 1493. In the dedication Piero referred to himself as an old man and wished this work to join the Treatise on Perspective in the Montefeltro library, indicating that in some ways he saw the work as associated with the two former treatises.
Its four parts are more abstract than his previous volumes. They use mathematics to explain the geometric theorems of Euclid and calculate the volumes, sizes and proportions of various geometrical forms. The first part explores 2-dimensional geometry; the second part examines the mathematics behind solid bodies inscribed within a sphere. Much of the first two parts rehearses ideas and exercises previously contained within the Treatise on the Abacus. The third part explores mathematical explanations of solid bodies contained within one another and the mathematics of spheres. Here he broke new ground in seeking to explain the arithmetic behind the proposals in Book XV of Euclid’s Elements. He completed the work by demonstrating how to calculate the volumes of irregular shapes, including the human body. Like Archimedes Piero proposed measurement of these irregular forms by immersion in water and calculating how much liquid is displaced. He states that every shape that is open to the senses can be expressed or at least approximated numerically. This work was inspired by the last books of Euclid’s Elements (Books XIII - XV) but took Euclid’s ideas further in attempting to explain them in terms of numbers and algebra. Some of this work was directly related to the forms used in architecture, explaining how to calculate the measurements of round columns, vaults, cross-vaults, intersecting hemispheres and the perspective of an apse.
This seeking to be able to calculate the qualities of physical objects shows the practical application of Piero’s mathematical work. He did not, however, specifically mention its direct connection to the work of an artist or architect. It was the Sansepolcro-born mathematician Luca Pacioli, who worked with Piero and who Vasari claims stole Piero’s ideas, who demonstrated repeatedly in his Divina proportione, how geometry and calculations the applied to the design of works of art and architecture. Pacioli published Piero’s Trattato d’abaco in his Summa Arithmetica in 1494, two years after Piero’s death. Then the Divina proportione (1509) published Piero’s Libellus de quinque corporibus regularibus in Italian translation. Both of Pacioli’s volumes were dedicated to Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, but Pacioli failed to acknowledge Piero’s authorship. Nevertheless, the two volumes distributed Piero’s mathematical work to a wider audience of artists, designers and artisans. Some of Pacioli’s woodcut illustrations, based on Piero’s stereometric drawings, were designed by Leonard da Vinci, another artist, who like Piero had wider interests and a broader intellect, which he applied in various fields.
The treatise particularly demonstrates Piero’s and the Renaissance mind’s fascination with understanding the material world. In some way by comprehending the patterns and design behind the physical world, they believed they might approach greater comprehension of the qualities and nature of the spiritual world which created them. It is not likely that Federico or Guidobaldo Montefeltro actually comprehend the details of Piero’s treatises. They probably didn’t even read them. It was partly enough for nobles to have such scholars working for them, to collect volumes of their scholarship and earlier learning in their libraries, and to have groups of scholars in their courts who could understand, discourse and advise on such matters. To have a platonic academy in one’s court was enough to establish one’s intellectual credentials.
This treatise influenced Piero’s next project (dated 1458) to create a complete compendium in Latin of Archimedes’ seven works. He created 225 illustrations and 150 pages of manuscript that became part of the Montefeltro library before being acquired by the Vatican library [Codex Urbinante Latino 1329].
PIERO’S REPRESENTATION OF CHRIST
We have no certain knowledge of details of Piero della Francesca’s personal faith. His regular commissions for various religious orders and his religious commissions for secular patrons indicate that he was regarded as a sound painter for subjects of faith. He was also trusted by his hometown, with a social position that would allow him to sit on the council of Borgo San Sepolcro, and trusted to paint his Resurrection for the council building, as a reminder that good judgement and truth was encouraged. It is therefore likely that his faith was believed to be orthodox and that his lifestyle and practices were conventional, churchgoing and free from scandal.
Piero’s representations of Christ are the key theme of his all his extant works. Even in the Arezzo frescoes of the Legend of the True Cross, where Christ is not represented, his crucifixion is the central focus of the story and his incarnation is alluded to in the Annunciation scene.
Paintings of the infant and child Jesus are included in:
The Montefeltro Altarpiece, Brera Milan
The Nativity / Adoration of the Child; London: National Gallery.
The Senigallia Madonna, Urbino, National Gallery of the Marches 1470 Painted for the Duke of Urbino.
Madonna and Child, Florence: Contini Bonacossi Collection c1440
Madonna and Child, part of Sant’ Antonio Altarpiece, Perugia. National Gallery of Umbria 1460
Willamstown Madonna and Child with Four Angels c1465
Piero’s images of the Christ-child are rarely idealised. He is never painted as a weak infant but is usually fairly robust, and hardly a beautiful or cute infant. At the time of high infant mortality, to depict a weak child might not have inspired confidence in Christ’s saving ability. Many babies were depicted as stronger than infants today, to emphasise their ability to thrive. In the Montefeltro Altarpiece the sleeping or dead infant’s appearance foretells his sacrifice and his coral necklace symbolises the shedding of his blood, which will being healing. In the Senigalia Madonna and the Williamstown Madonna and Child, he displays his strength in the form of the wisdom of a classical scholar or sage. Several symbols are found in Piero’s works that point to the qualities and nature of Jesus, but he is always represented naturalistically as a real child, able to bring a realistic redemption to the world.
Piero’s paintings of the adult Jesus are equally real and relatively unidealised, as represented in:
The Baptism of Christ, London: National Gallery 1448-50
The Flagellation, Urbino, Galeria delle Marche 1455
Crucifixion in the Polyptych of the Misericordia: 1448 Sansepolcro Pinacoteca Communale 1460Crucifixion, Rockerfeller Collection; New York c1460? (possibly from the Polyptych of St. Augustine)
Crucifixion Frick Collection (possibly from the Polyptych of St. Augustine)
Resurrection, Sansepolcro Pinacoteca Communale.
The semi-naked image in all of these is of classic proportions, but never as beautiful, handsome or idealised as in works by Fra Angelico or Perugino. Jesus is well-proportioned in the Baptism and the Resurrection but his humanity is as strong as any emphasis on his special divine nature. In the Baptism he demonstrates his care and identification with humanity. In the Resurrection he has the haunted face of a man who has experienced tortured death then plumbed the world of the dead. Yet in the Resurrection Christ is also represented as strongly muscled, which is probably a metaphor to represent the power that he has to achieve redemption and to be victorious over sin, as implied by the banner that he raises.
Piero’s paintings of the crucifixion are fairly conventional in form and iconography. The Cross is, as usual, attended by Mary and John. Jesus’ musculature on the cross is relatively naturalistic.
Though there are metaphysical indications in the mathematics and geometry behind Piero’s compositions, Jesus is always painted as a physical human being, never as an unnaturally superhuman figure . The care and clarity with which Jesus is portrayed in Piero’s paintings combines with his mathematical and geometrical calculations to indicate that in his special nature divine holiness and our humanity are combined. Piero’s use of light on the figure of Christ also helps to emphasise this. In the Flagellation and the Resurrection he is illuminated from above by an ethereal light coming from a different direction, to supplementing the natural light. In the Resurrection his nature as the risen ‘light of the world; is also emphasised by the dawn rising behind him. Piero also makes references to him in other pictures as the Bread of Life, the source of healing and hope, the teacher of divine wisdom, the redeemer, the one who identifies with us in his suffering and the one who eternally interceded for us on the through of heaven.
PIERO’S REPRESENTATION OF MARY
We are not sure how many paintings of Mary and Jesus Piero produced. Those that survive or have been identified, may only be a small number of those which he created, since Mary was such a significant subject in Italian Catholicism:
Annunciation (from Legend of the True Cross Arezzo) San Francesco. Arezzo 14551467-8
Annunciation, Polyptych of St. Anthony. Perugia, National Gallery of Umbria 1470
Madonna of the Misericordia, Polyptych of the Misericordia, Sansepolcro, Pinacoteca Communale 1460
Madonna del Parto, Monterchi Cemetery Chapel, Arezzo c1460?
The Nativity, National Gallery: London 1470
Senigallia Madonna, Urbino, National Gallery of the Marches 1470 Painted for the Duke of Urbino.
Madonna and Child, Florence: Contini Bonacossi Collection c1440
Madonna and Child, part of Sant’ Antonio Altarpiece, Perugia. National Gallery of Umbria 1460
Montefeltro Altarpiece, Brera, Milan 1472-74
Williamstown Madonna and Child with Four Angels c1465
Piero did not idealise his images of Mary as Fra Angelico and other Italian artists tended to do. He gave her distinct human features and individuality, which may have been derived from a knowledge of Northern European, particularly Flemish work, which was beginning to be collected in courts of Northern Italy. His Marys vary in character and physiognomy between paintings; they are probably not portraits, but show her as different ‘types’, unlike Fra Angelico’s Madonnas, who are often very similar in type. They are rarely as elegant or refined in proportion as those by Fra Angelico and other contemporaries. Piero’s images of Mary are often strong and robust, similar to the images of her child. She appears more like the Renaissance idea of a peasant girl or young working woman than an elegant or gentle noble. This seems to reflect a greater aim at ‘realism’ than the neo-platonic idealism of much Italian Catholic representation of Jesus’ mother. Where Piero developed this idea is uncertain, since he moved in Neoplatonic noble or religious circles. It may come from the emphasis on ministry to real people among the Franciscan and Augustinian friars, among whom he worked, as well as any Northern European art that he had seen, or artists like Justus of Ghent, who he would have known at the Montefeltro court.
In the Misericordia, Polyptych, Madonna del Parto and Arezzo Annunciation in the Legend of the True Cross. Mary appears rather more stately and severe, looking down at the viewer with understanding, perhaps pity. She is matronly and radiates a sense of security. As Piero’s work matured his images of Mary seem to have gradually developed to look more youthful and peasant-like, while still seeming matronly. The Madonna of Senigallia is young, radiating a certain peace and innocence, yet she is also physically mature and seems strong enough to look after both her child and the needs of her devotees. The Montefeltro Altarpiece the Madonna is far more stately as befits her enthronement as protector and example for the Church. Her prayers for the world seem directed though her sleeping, or some suggest ‘dead’, child who lies across her lap, almost more like a two-dimenional vision than a three dimensional weighty infant. In the Nativity in the National Gallery, London, Mary is slimmer and more idealised in proportions than most Renaissance Madonnas; she closer to the image of ideal Platonic proportions. Yet she is still not an idealised beauty: Mary is young, slight, fairly drained and pale. She has the raised, plaited hair of a Renaissance lady, fairly close in style to that of the deceased Battista Sforza in the double portrait of Montefeltro and his wife. Only the early Conti Bonacossi Collection Madonna does Mary smile, though in the Williamstown Madonna with Child Enthroned between Angels she has a very slight smile. Very few faces in any of Piero’s figures ever seem to hold a smile, which may suggest the seriousness with which he regarded his saintly subjects. If there is a joy expressed in Piero’s paintings it is probably an inner, spiritual joy, as in the Annunciation of the Polyptych of Sant’ Anthony in Perugia. There is an intense seriousness in the majority of Piero’s work.
Piero flanked the Madonna del Parto with a serious pair of angels who reveal, or unveil to the viewer her mystery and caring role. The image is almost akin to the opening of a tabernacle or the veneration of a monstrance, as Mary is presented as the tabernacle for Christ. In the Montefeltro Altarpiece she is closer to the representations of Mary as the Queen of Heaven and intercessor for the Church. The angels in the Senagallia Madonna and the Williamstown Madonna are far more real companions, almost like human guardians of Mary and the onlooker in their domestic setting. They reflect the domesticity and naturalness of the painting of Mary herself. This adds to the sense that in Christ God truly took on human form and lived among us as one of us, so is able to understand our predicaments. The depiction of Mary and her heavenly companions helps to emphasise this domestic care by showing them as far less idealised than in much sacred art of the time.
PIERO’S PAINTINGS OF SAINTS
With Mary, the depiction of saints in Piero’s paintings appears to convey a balance between humanity, spiritual quietness and a holy separation of emotion which distinguishes them from ordinary human beings. This is also a feature of his depictions of Christ. Many of Piero’s paintings of saints have a distinctive monumentality that makes them feel strong and spiritually sincere This is not just due to their size or iconic status as important figures in an altarpiece like the St Augustine Polyptych or the fresco of Mary Magdalene. Even smaller images like the two devotional paintings of St. Jerome convey the saint’s sincerity and spiritual focus. In both figures of Jerome there is an intimacy of religious feeling in that is rather different from the secular figure of the worshipper kneeling before him in the Venice panel. Similarly in the Flagellation the small figure of Christ in the middle-distance is a very different in feeling from the three large figures. I may be reading this into the pictures, but I don’t think so. It seems as though Piero treated the depiction of his saints with a sensitivity towards conveying the holiness and individuality of their natures and spiritual status. His secular figures like Federico Montefeltro and his wife, Sigismondo Malatesta or the secular participants in his religious scenes are painted with no less care and often they have a similar monumentality, particularly in the Legend of the True Cross frescoes. But I wonder if Piero felt a different sense of spiritual responsibility in depicting the saints or the religious events in compositions, which may have filtered into and been conveyed in the feeling and details of his paintings.
If this was so, I can understand it. When I paint religious themes I always feel a tremendous sense of my sacred responsibility in creating an image that gives due reverence to its subject and conveys its meaning. During the three years of painting the Gloucester Cathedral Lady Chapel triptych I sensed that I was undertaking sacred work and my whole behaviour around the studio felt as though it needed to be holy and devoted. For a Christian artist one of the highest things one can do is paint sacred subjects. If one is creating an altarpiece, or any work which one prays will be a catalyst to inspire devotion to its subject, the sense of one’s own devotion to what one is depicting is heightened. This responsibility was probably taken even more seriously by many in late mediaeval and Renaissance times than in our more secularised contemporary art-world, since superstition as well as sincere devotion was more widespread. Piero was busy with many commissions, and presumably worked in an active workshop surrounded by several assistants and allied distractions. However, we know from documentation that he was commissioned to do much of the painting on his altarpieces with his own hands. Assistants may have done much of the preparation, initial pouncing of cartoons, drawing in and underpainting of many of his works. But the artists are most involved in refining the feeling that their art expresses during the initial refinements in designing and drawing out the cartoons, then during the later period of concentration on perfecting the finish, expressions, gestures and emotive effects in a work. When one is concentrating on perfecting the emotional or devotional effects in a painting one is usually deaf and blind to other distractions and focusing one’s spiritual sensitivity fully on the what one is painting.
The extreme detail which Piero put into the painting of a figure like St. Augustine in the polyptych seems to suggest that Piero was working with that intensity of concentration. The detail of Piero’s focus was not just in the finely embroidered cope, but in his facial expression and the clarity of his meaning conveyed by gestures, even though his hands are covered by bejewelled and embroidered gloves. The gestures of the saints in the Montefeltro Altarpiece are equally carefully considered and refined, as are the poses of the hands of the Senegallia and Williamstown Madonnas.
Piero’s paintings of saints reach a similar level of emotional feeling and humanity to Donatello’s achievements in sculpture. Both convey monumentality and serenity, while creating figures that are real human beings, with both a sense of spiritual detachment and an understanding of the nature of being human. This encourages us to feel that the saints could understand our situation and our condition. Their holiness and devotion may distinguish and slightly separate them from us, yet they know what it is like to be like us. Piero’s saints are represented as strong, confident, and spiritually committed. For devotees who used Piero’s images as a focus of prayer the artist created figures who were realistic examples and models to follow, and strong enough to be able to offer their support.