Italian Renaissance (pt. 22)

The masterwork of Raphael is probably his School of Athens, which, even though it is steeped heavily in Greco-Roman thought, is ironically located in the Vatican.

In the center are Plato (left) and Aristotle (right).  Plato points up, as he is concerned with the spirit and the universe.  Aristotle is more practical and points down to the ground, with earthly concerns.  Raphael further describes these two different idealists with the Greek statues in the niches.  To Plato's left is Apollo (patron of poetry), and on Aristotle's right is Athena (goddess of wisdom and reason…among other things).  Do you think Raphael is "leaning" to one side, as it were—to Plato or to Aristotle's worldview?  Well, Raphael's supreme use of one-point perspective gives us the answer.  On the horizon line of the painting, the vanishing point (the center of the painting) is positioned exactly between the two, suggesting that the observant viewer will see both sides to the argument and will settle somewhere in between.

Other contemporary characters appear on the two sides to further demonstrate the relevance of the Ancient Greek philosophers' debates to their own time.  On the steps is an aged Leonardo da Vinci, seen as a sort of Plato.  On the left with his elbow on a box is Michelangelo, who is writing (he's on Plato's side, and therefore here presented as a philosopher, not a scientist).  On the far right is the young profile of the artist himself: Raphael.  He put himself among a group of mathematicians to make a statement about his art combining with math.  This is also one of the first instances of a long line of artists adding themselves in the paintings as a sort of supplement to their signature.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 21)

Raphael Sanzio was another man without whom the Renaissance would not have been complete.  Raphael made several frescos of the Virgin Mary with Child.  His Alba Madonna reflects the typical aura of these images.

We see, from left to right, John the Baptist, Jesus Christ, and the Virgin Mary.  All three characters look at the cross.  Raphael's paintings of Madonna and Child are almost all poignant reflections on the care of a mother for her infant boy when the looming cross foreshadows Christ's death.  The same three characters are in this earlier oil painting, the Madonna del prato.

The magnificent Small Cowper Madonna, painted around the same time as the one above, features Mary wearing similar attire (a red dress and blue robe—red is seen on Mary often, as a color of both love and a foreshadowing the bloodshed to occur at the cross).  This painting shows Mary staring ahead blankly and dolefully, lost in thought.  The baby Jesus, too, looks ahead, but His gaze is downward (perhaps foreshadowing that He will be buried in the earth).

An excellent painting, no?  It has an air of sadness to it, doesn't it?  I like this one and even had the privilege of seeing it in person once.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 20)

Another fantastic piece by Michelangelo, sculpted before the David, is his Pietà.  A pietà is any representation of Mary mourning over the dead body of Christ.  Michelangelo's was made in 1499, out of marble, and remains in the Vatican today.

Something about art: Christ is, more often than not, shown either being crucified or already dead.  It was probably the most human phenomenon which He ever experienced—the ultimate display of His mortality—that He suffered, that He bled, and that He died.  Ignoring the Resurrection, when our Lord proved His deity by coming back to life and ascending to Heaven in glory, artists, for whatever reason, tend to find the crucifixion and burial of Christ the most interesting.  Perhaps it's due to the idea that showing Christ dead shows Christ as weak.

At any rate, Christ looks very weak here, and puny.  Mary, on the other hand, is massive, and not tiny or delicate.  The folds of Mary's garment indicate there is a huge, strong body underneath, and Mary's pose of lifting Christ's body is physically impossible.  Michelangelo did not here focus on the physical struggle of Mary to support the weight of the body, but rather on the religious meaning.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 19)

Thirty years later, Michelangelo got one wall in the Sistine Chapel to paint, and that became his massive, 48-foot high Last Judgment fresco.  Michelangelo was not at all loyal to the Medici (as evinced by his symbolic statue of David), and so, stylistically, one cannot but help see some of the artists expression of disapproving sentiments towards the Medici—perhaps an embittered reminder to the ruling family that they, too, like every other person, will one day be judged.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 18)

Arguably the most famous of the images depicted on the ceiling is that of the Creation of Adam, where God, swooping down from Heaven, all the while being dissuaded by a host of angels, stretches out His arm and reaches for Adam's hand.  Adam, seated comfortably back on a grassy hilltop, extends his arm lazily and barely lifts his hand to meet God's.  Their hands do not touch.

The tiny space between their two index fingers is meant to make us uneasy.  I heard an explanation that the human mind functions in such a way that it needs to have tiny gaps filled in—(the example of this is the optical illusion of all the boxes on the white backdrop, and you think you can see shadows at the corners of the boxes, but really it is only white, empty space that our mind is wanting to fill in).  Also ideologically, we desire the connection of God and Man (at least, the people back then did—I'm not sure society today cares much for meeting with God on any level).  So, the gap left is unnerving, and the blame goes to Adam, who could easily touch God's outstretched finger by a mere lift of his own by about a fraction of an inch.  But no.  Adam does not make the extra effort.  What would you say, then, was Michelangelo's view on religion and on humanism?  Whereas the Renaissance brings out the celebration of mankind and the rise of humanism, this is one of the few (if not the only) good depiction of humanism as a bad thing: humans thinking they are too self-important and not needing God.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 17)

To paint the 1,000 square meters of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo built a scaffold up to the 68-foot tall ceiling and there lay on his back, refusing the aid of assistants, for four years, only ever coming down to sleep.  Michelangelo also never removed his boots, and so when the leather eventually fell off, thick layers of dead skin went with it.  (The artist was not keen on hygiene.)

The astounding end result was the most decorative ceiling in all the world, containing 145 individual pictures and more than 300 figures, all detailing the biblical story (with additions of Greco-Roman mythology) of humanity from the Creation to the Flood.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 16)

I give you a very fine example of what I mean by saying that Michelangelo considered himself a sculptor.  Here is one of the images which he painted on the Sistine Chapel.

This is the Lybian Sibyl, a priestess who was also the daughter of Zeus (remember, the Renaissance is back to Greco-Roman ideals).  It's a marvelous rendering, but don't you notice that that does not look very much like a woman's back?  It's way too muscular and wide.  This is so for two reasons, the first and most obvious being that women were not allowed in studios at that time, not even as models, so Michelangelo had to do his best looking only at men.  The other reason for the overly-muscular appearance of this figure comes from Michelangelo's identity as a sculptor, using light and shadow also in his paintings to make the image look three-dimensional and alive.  Here was his study for the above fresco.

Only a sculptor makes such precise body parts.