Showing posts with label Duccio di Buoninsegna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Duccio di Buoninsegna. Show all posts

Wednesday, 13 August 2025

The National Gallery: Siena: The Rise of Painting 1300 -1350 Part One

Apologies for the tardiness of this post.  We are still in the midst of family illness.


Introduction

   I feel I should have done some research before going to this exhibition, which is a collaboration between the Metropolitan Museum in New York and The National Gallery in London.  It would certainly have helped, for although filled with beautiful and lustrous images, this is a hard exhibition to take in.  As I said to a friend later that day over lunch, there is a limit to the number of panel paintings one can take in at one sitting, and I write as somebody who usually loves this sort of thing, but something, for me at least, was not quite right.


'The Art that shaped the Future': Art History in the Age of Stupid?

     For the ignorant, and I think I may include myself in that category, Sienese art of the Middle Ages being a bit esoteric, both galleries have produced introductory videos to the exhibition.
    The Met video features the James Pope-Hennessy Curator in Charge of European Painting, Stephan Wolohojian and Caroline Campbell, then Curator of Italian Art at the National Gallery.  At one point Wolohijan said: '[....] in the last years of the 1340s Europe is infested by the Black Death, this great plague that was especially present in Italy, so by the end of our story none of these artists survive."  The implication being they had all died of the plague. This is nonsense. Of the four artists that this exhibition focuses upon, Ambrogio Lorenzetti and his brother Pietro may indeed have died of plague, but Duccio died c1318 and Simone Martini died in Avignon in 1344 at the age of 60.  Towards the end of the video Wolohojian stands in front of the beautiful 'Christ Discovered in the Temple' by Simone Martini with its delicate cusped & subcusped Gothic arch and lilting Gothic folds in the clothing of the three figures and says: "No gable, no Gothic form, a truly kind of framed painting, the way you could see made today...." Why do people make such statements like that, when, in this particular context, the exhibition is filled from beginning to end with panel paintings in square frames without 'no gable, or Gothic form'?
     The National Gallery video, grandiloquently subtitled 'The Art that shaped the Future', features, amongst others, a local Sienese artist Chiara Perinetti Casoni, who has it appears a real downer on Byzantine art. (I hate how in order to re-enforce an argument it is done at the expense of something else.)  She seems to speaking from a place of ignorance and one perhaps tainted by a certain anti-clericalism. In common with the other talking heads she presents a view of Byzantine art that is crude and almost unrecognisable.   She implied, for instance, that Byzantine icons were produced solely by religious ie monks.  However, icons were created both in a monastic and secular milieu.  There were professional secular artists in the Empire creating icons in a workshop system that couldn't have been that different from the one operating in Siena. Too much Vasari, and too much Romanticism.  Certainly this whole exhibition is indebted to Georgio Vasari and his book 'The Lives of the Most Excellent Artists, Sculptors, and Architects' .
     A claim is made in both videos that the icon tradition is 'rigid', 'rote and stale' and yet icons developed over time just like any other pictorial art, for example the introduction of Chrysography or 'striations'.  Contrary to the impression given, the depiction of the Virgin & Child in Orthodox iconography is not tied to the 'Hodegetria' type, which, according to legend, was established by St Luke the Evangelist.  There are other ways depicting the Theotokos and Child eg. 'Panakranta', 'Pelagonitissa' and most importantly in this context the 'Eleusa'.  According to Wiki it is sometimes referred to the in the West as the 'Virgin of Tenderness'.  Perhaps the most famous example of this type is the Vladimirskaya which dates from c 1130.  So claims that the it was the artists of Siena - 'true artists', mind you - those men, 'whose blood boiled' and 'felt strong emotions' who introduced tenderness & emotion into the dead language of Byzantium have to be taken with a pinch of salt.  Italian artists before Duccio were producing art with emotion; for example there is the work of the Florentine artist Meliore di Jacopo (fl 1255-85).  Two of his paintings spring to mind: The Madonna and Child with Two Angels, c 1270-75, and The Enthroned Madonna and Child of the same period.
     But then, sadly, although this exhibition opens movingly with a room of icons from the city, it underplays the role of those images in the religious and civic life of the contemporaneous Italian city: there were, for example, processions of icons in Rome and in the cities of Lazio to the south, and in Siena itself, where in addition the cathedral and San Niccolo al Carmine possessed miracle-working icons of the Virgin Mary.  In researching for this post I soon realised that I knew very little about the cultural spread of Byzantine art in Northern Italy.  The presence of Byzantine culture in Venice I understood, and in southern Italy and Sicily too where there were then still Greek speaking communities worshipping according the Byzantine rite. 
      What, however, was worse about these productions is that virtually no speaker in either video could bring themselves to say 'Byzantine', 'Gothic' or 'International Gothic'.  And these are the categories, the concepts, after all, that exhibition is dealing with. 

     You know, looking at these videos I felt just that bit cheated - I mean, all this people educated - lengthily, expensively, exclusively - talking with all the inanity of a fashion journalist.  PR rules.



    

Friday, 29 December 2023

The Virgin of Humility

 



     Today something far removed from yesterday's towering painting. We are back to the Fitzwilliam collection and back in the pre-modern and the Gothic.  That slightly strange, to Northern eyes at least, Gothic of the Italian peninsular, where the Gothic north blends with strong and persistent Classical, Romanesque and, most important in the discussion of this painting, Byzantine traditions.
     What we are looking at here is essentially an icon set within a tabernacle - everything we see is constructed of gesso-ed, painted and gilded wood.  According to the Fitzwilliam museum it dates from after 1440; the work of Paolo Schiavo.  It is Florentine, but at some point the tabernacle turned up in Pisa.  By 1883 it is known to have been in the collection of the Pisan Giuseppe Tuscanelli.  The tabernacle is a devotional object, but not for personal, private use, but for the use of a lay devotional community - in this case a group of flagellants. In one sense it is a variant of the 'Madonna enthroned' I talked about on Wednesday; the Theotokos and the Christ child are still surrounded by a heavenly court - there are angels in the soffit of the arch, and saints on the piers 'supporting' the arch, four in all. The variation is simply that the Theotokos is seated on the ground; hence the title 'The Virgin of Humility'.  A fitting subject for such a confraternity, which is depicted in the panel below the main panel performing the funeral rite of one of its members. 

     Finally, I suppose I ought to say something about these flagellants.  All we need to know is that in the Middle Ages confraternities were very popular, loci of popular lay devotion.  Some very famous Medieval paintings, such as the Rucellai Madonna1 by the Sienese master Duccio Di Buoninsegna, were commissioned by such confraternities.  The flagellants were simply a more 'extreme' example of such devotional life. They seem to have been a product of the later, post Black Death, Middle Ages.




1 The Rucellai Madonna was commission by the Laudesi confraternity.  They met within the 's' transept of Dominican church of Santa Maria Novella, where they had a chapel.  It has often been said that the painting - tempera on wood - was an altarpiece. I don't think that that is accepted these days. The image - which is extremely large and is essentially, like 'The Virgin of Humility' an icon, though of the 'Panakranta' type - may either have stood in the confraternity's chapel or outside in the transept. After the completion of the nave it may have been moved there, to stand either against one of the piers or upon the rood beam, what in the Italian peninsular was then referred to as the 'Iconostasis' (see: 'The Art and Science of the Church Screen in Medieval Europe', Eds: Spike Bucklow, Richard Marks, & Lucy Wrapson).  The Iconostasis in the Upper Church at Assisi not only supported (centrally) a Crucifix, but icons of St Michael and the Virgin Mary & Christ child of the 'Panakranta' type - the beam is depicted in Giotto's fresco 'The Verification of the Stigmata', also in the Upper Church. 
     When Vasari ruthlessly remodelled the interior of Santa Maria Novella during the Counter-Reformation (the amount of destruction was quite the equal to that done by Protestants in N Europe) the image was placed in the Rucellai chapel off the 's' transept. Hence its current name.  It was moved out of the church in 1937 and on to display in Uffizi in 1948 (wiki says it was moved to the Uffizi in the 19th century), and denuded of its power thereby. (image from wiki Commons)