Italian Renaissance (pt. 27)

In 1516, a group of cardinals conspire to assassinate the pope in the Vatican.  Pope Leo X (a Medici, remember) was disliked for living an excessively lavish lifestyle, throwing money left and right towards whatever ends he desired.  The Catholic church's own leaders are dissatisfied with the institution and, most of all, with their pope.  Before the conspirators can execute their plan, however, the pope learns of their treachery, and in a very short time frame each conspirator dies of "food poisoning."  The pope, it would seem, cannot be stopped.

The following year, 1517, Martin Luther publishes his 95 Theses—another attempt to dethrone the pope, this one much more successful—wherein he attacks the idea of papal indulgences (or the economic sale of salvation from sins).  The new printing press helps Luther to spread his ideas like wildfire, and the church splits in two.  The schism is called the Protestant Reformation.

Although the Catholic church would greatly feel the effects of the Protestant Reformation, the Medici themselves will only acquire more power.  Giulio de Medici becomes the next pope, Pope Clement VII and Catherine de Medici, after marrying the French king, becomes Queen of France.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 26)

Donatello was a sculptor, like Michelangelo, and, also like Michelangelo, he sculpted a David.  Donatello's David, however, is considerably different from that of Michelangelo.  First of all, whereas Michelangelo takes up the scene before the action (his David is glaring ahead at Goliath, with the sling over his shoulder, preparing to slay him), Donatello picks up the scene after the action has taken place (this David is standing on Goliath's dismembered head).  As for appearance's sake, Donatello's is smaller and made of bronze.  The character of David himself is vastly different.  Donatello's David looks far younger than Michelangelo's (probably more accurate, in that area, to the real biblical story), and he looks much more effeminate.  This David has flowing hair that spills out of a wreathed hat, and his pose fails to be masculine.  One additional feature, the feather from Goliath's hat, more or less confirms the sexual connotation of the statue.  Florence, like Rome before it, did practice a degree of homosexuality, and inasmuch as Michelangelo's David was a celebration of the Florentine people as relating to their triumph over the Medici, Donatello's David was a celebration of the Florentine people as relating their…hm, carefree living, shall we say?  Scholars agree this is a blatantly sensual statue, and if you ask me, I say it's definitely suggestive enough.

Donatello's statue of St. Mark is an obvious reference back to Greco-Roman art.  St. Mark is standing in contrapposto, like Polyclitus's Spear Bearer.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 25)

As far as being able to paint the most beautiful and realistic human figures, Titian is famous for being the artist of the human body.  One of his most famous works is the Venus of Urbino, which I won't post.  But that is an important painting in art history—part of the line of "Venuses" that represent what feminine beauty is supposed to be (remember the Venus of Willendorf?).  It is a nude portrait of the Duke of Urbino's mistress, painted especially for the Duke.  By titling it Venus, it became a reference to Greco-Roman ideals, and so it was acceptable even though it carries undeniable sexual undertones.

This painting is sometimes attributed to Titian and other times to an artist named Giorgione (who was one of the first painters to place importance on landscapes rather than the figures therein).  It's called The Concert.

We see an aristocrat of some sort with a lyre, seated in a most pastoral landscape, facing a shepherd on his left.  Neither man seems to notice the two nude women in front of them, one with a flute and the other pouring a pitcher of water into some type of stone casket.  Do you like the painting?  It's rather mysterious; it's supposed to communicate the air of a dream, with surreal lighting and mythical nymphs walking among the two unsuspecting men.  The title, The Concert, furthermore gives us the feeling that this is meant to be a poetic expression, musical, artistic, perhaps without a clear meaning (opposite of Byzantine art) but purely meant for enjoyment or to provoke thought.  I don't know.  Of a painting like this one C. S. Lewis wrote in his Experiment in Criticism, "To one such spectator [a painting] may be merely an assistance in prurient imagination; he has used it as pornography.  To another, it may be the starting-point for a meditation on Greek myth, which, in its own right, is of value."  I don't think that The Concert is pornographic, but from here on out it becomes sort of a fine line, unfortunately.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 24)

Realism continued to develop during the Renaissance, and along the way you get works like this on by Andrea Mantegna, the Lamentation Over the Dead Christ.

Doesn't Christ's body seem to extend from the painting, as if we could reach out and actually touch His feet—realism to an almost uncanny level.  And of course the patrons are seen on the left.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 23)

Sofonisba Anguissola was the first Italian woman to gain worldwide reputation as an artist.  Her painting, A Game of Chess, is not a religious image or even an image of any real importance; instead, it's a picture of an everyday recreational activity.

Each character has a different expression on her face, making them all unique personalities; each is in movement, making them dynamic beings; each is a different age; the list goes on.  In short, it is very realistic.  In art, especially in portraiture, it is almost a rule that as importance decreases (such as rank), formality is relaxed and realism is increased.  The event occurring here (a game of chess) is of lesser importance; therefore we see the heightened realism.

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.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 15)

Michelangelo had also been busy during the Medici's exile with another famous and almost superhuman work of art—the ceiling paintings of the Sistine Chapel.  From 1508 to 1512, Michelangelo worked on this most insulting of tasks.  You see, other artists such as Botticelli had already been commissioned to paint the walls of the chapel, and many of these paintings had already been completed; the person put to the task of painting the roof was usually of lesser talent, since nobody looks for very long at a ceiling, which is too far away to see and puts a strain on the neck to look at anyway.  Michelangelo was furious at being given this lowly task, and Michelangelo's temper was not something to be taken lightly—he was notorious for it.  The fresco I showed to demonstrate one-point perspective (of Christ delivering the keys of the church to Peter) is on one of the walls of the Sistine Chapel, as is this widely-seen fresco by Raphael.  (I'm sure you've seen the two little angels at the bottom of the fresco somewhere else before.)

In defiance, then, Michelangelo resolved to make the ceiling so magnificent, as it would put to shame the "lower" works of his peers.  Furthermore, having just produced the finest sculpture in the history of the world, he considered himself a sculptor, not a painter.  To be commissioned to paint (let alone to paint the less important ceiling paintings) was, to him, something of an insult.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 14)

Medici popularity could only last so long, and the Albizzi were eager to take their place.  After Lorenzo de Medici's tyrannical reign, the people of Florence began to tire of this ruling family.  The Albizzi saw this as their chance to gain control, and before long they got their wish of domain over Florence.  The Medici were exiled after Lorenzo de Medici's death.

Michelangelo's famous sculpture of David enters the scene here.  It was commissioned to be a part of the outer design of a Florentine cathedral, which explains why the hands and head are disproportionately large.  It was supposed to be viewed from below (the statue would have been on the cathedral buttress), so the head and hands would appear normal size from below if they were enlarged.  However, it was not put as a decoration to any cathedral.  Michelangelo's David was placed in the town hall of Florence, since David became a symbol of the city itself.  This "mascot" of theirs, too, had been a minority and had defeated a gigantic and powerful enemy—just like the people of Florence who "defeated" the bullying Medici and competing city-states like Milan and Venice.  There were more commissions of David made, but Michelangelo's proved to be the Spear Bearer of its time, thought to be the most perfect human depiction yet crafted by man.

For the David, Michelangelo used water to limit the dust around the marble and also to keep himself cool while working.  It took the sculptor more than two years to finish this masterpiece, which stands 17 feet today.  Notice how David carries his sling over his shoulder and stands upright with determined eyes glaring at his foe—the image of confidence.

The bloody reign of the Albizzi became so bad that the Medici returned from exile nine years later, and the chief political advisor of Florence, Niccolò Machiavelli, was thrown into prison and then exiled, during which time he wrote his famous (or infamous) book The Prince, which marked the beginning of the separation of ethics from politics.  Giovanni de Medici became Pope Leo X, and the Medici once again took power in Florence.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 13)

He is perhaps most famous and more revered for having designed the dome of the Florence cathedral, the largest dome since the Pantheon, and the largest dome for over four centuries to follow.

Brunelleschi held a contest as to who would build the cupola (dome) since his engineering methods were frequently criticized.  He asked Florence's other engineers to make an egg stand upright on a flat piece of marble; whoever could do that would take charge over constructing the dome.  No one could do it.  Finally, Brunelleschi was asked to do it himself (others believing it impossible).  Brunelleschi cracked the bottom of the egg, and it stood upright.  When others complained his solution was too easy, that it could have been done by anybody, Brunelleschi's answer was basically, "But you didn't."  And so, he was put in charge of the dome construction.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 12)

Filippo Brunelleschi is another important name of the Renaissance, though he lived earlier than da Vinci and the printing press (sorry—anachronistic, I know).  He considered himself more of a mathematician, architect, and engineer than an artist.  Also afraid (like da Vinci) of his ideas being stolen, he wrote all his notes in code.

You'll recall he produced his own theory of Linear Perspective after Masaccio's Holy Trinity.  In 1413 he conducted an experiment to test the look of his painting of the Baptistery of St. John in Florence.  He poked a hole in the center of the painting and stood at a window overlooking the Baptistery.  He held the painting up in front of his face, the back facing him, in one hand and a mirror, in front of the painting, in another.  By looking through the hole in the painting toward the mirror, Brunelleschi could see his painting, and when he moved the mirror, he could see the actual Baptistery.  This experiment was a breakthrough for realism technique in art.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 11)

Although Leonardo da Vinci is more famous among us today, it was Sandro Botticelli who was the definitive artist of the Renaissance.  His figures moved gracefully in space (like those of the Ancient Greeks), and his themes turned from evangelical and ecclesiastical back to the pagan mythology of Greece and Rome and the celebration of human nature.  Primavera is a gorgeous work of his that merely dealt with the concept of "the spring."  It was pure fantasy (no Bible stories) inspired by poetry that was not biblical.

Botticelli's Birth of Venus was an appreciation of the pagan goddess of beauty (and a very sensual celebration, at that).  We're back to graceful, nude figures that look realistic as well as beautiful.

Italian Renaissance (pt. 10)

And this is considered da Vinci's most famous work of art: the Mona Lisa, painted between 1503 and 1506 and actually believed to be unfinished.

This marks the first time we've seen oil paintings in Italy, an influence from Northern Europe.  Da Vinci was commissioned to paint this (in other words, someone paid him to make this portrait), but the artist never gave it up.  He could not part with it, and he kept it till his death.  And the advocates to the theory about da Vinci's homosexuality propose this could be a self-portrait—da Vinci painting himself as a woman.  There are several other peculiar things which, added up together, make this quite a unique piece of art.  For starters, this is again a portrait of a woman.  The Renaissance in particular saw the outbreak of female subjects in paintings—but, still a long way away from the feministic apotheosis of women, women in paintings (for the most part) are shown as submissive wives or pure virgins.  The Mona Lisa's hands are folded gently to demonstrate this meek and modest nature.  Second to consider: the background.  Where is she?  Scholars are still unable to identify the backdrop in this painting, which contains mountains, rivers, trees, plains, and other pastoral elements—all combined to form something of a super-landscape…or else maybe a supernatural landscape.  It has been suggested—taking into account the almost surreal appearance of the landscape and the dark, twilight lighting which da Vinci used—that the Mona Lisa is in Hell.  …Let's hope not!

By far the most famous feature of the painting, as you all know, are the eyes (which, by the way, aren't topped by any eyebrows).  The eyes, remember, are "the windows to the soul."  The Mona Lisa's pupils are so positioned at an angle—again, da Vinci, the scientist—that she appears to be staring right at you.  This conflicts with what I said earlier about her submissiveness—a humble woman would look downwards.  The Mona Lisa is looking straight at you.  …Eh, makes some people feel uncomfortable; like, she's looking right at me—ah!  What's more, she has a tiny smirk on her lips as if she's laughing inside.  Maybe she knows a secret.  Haha, or maybe people just like to make up conspiracies that she does to keep us interested—like the theory that there are microscopic numbers and symbols engraved by da Vinci on the Mona Lisa's eyes (…and, by the way guys, there's a treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence, too).

The art elements which da Vinci utilized were revolutionary, and this would have been one of the most realistic-looking portraits of the day.  The detail put into her robe and sleeves alone is extraordinary.  Add to this that the actual painting was famously stolen and, later on, that a famous artist drew a moustache on a copy and submitted it to an art exhibition, and the painting's fame only increases, this small 30" x 21" portrait of an unknown person in an unknown location.  Still a magnificent painting, though (famous or not famous), isn't it?

Italian Renaissance (pt. 9)

Now, I don't know if any of you have read Dan Brown's book The Da Vinci Code or have seen the Ron Howard film, but this was a topic we had to (for some unfathomable reason) study in my class, and so I could say far more about da Vinci, The Last Supper, and several other things, but it would doubtless bore you (it even bores me at times).  Besides, I don't think many people buy into the kooky theories presented in the story.  Brown himself only intended to write an entertaining fiction.  All I'm saying is: I still have a copy of my exhaustive, some fifteen-page essay disproving each of Brown's fictional theories, and I can dish it out if anybody so even thinks those theories hold any credibility!  But I spare you of this (heehee)…

Italian Renaissance (pt. 8)

One of da Vinci's most famous images is that of the Last Supper, a fresco painted on a wall in a monastery in Milan, Italy.  The fresco began flaking off almost immediately after the paint was applied because da Vinci the scientist experimented with egg tempera (which did not mix well with plaster), and this is why it is in such poor condition today.

It utilizes one-point linear perspective (as we discussed earlier with Masaccio); this time Christ is the center of the composition.  It is, rather than really telling a story (like the storytelling murals of the Medieval Period), capturing a moment in time.  The fresco is of the moment when Jesus announces that Judas will betray Him.  Our Lord is calm and silent while the others are in an uproar.  The apostles all express disbelief, except for Judas (third from Christ's right), who instead shows a look of anger and defiance—his is the only face in shadow.  The twelve apostles all stand in groups of three, and they are all jammed on one side of the table for dramatic appearance—certainly not biblically accurate.