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Tag Archives: Italian art

Object of the Month: July 2016

Landscape with the Baptism of Christ

Oil on canvas, c. 1655–60

Salvator Rosa

Neapolitan, 1615–1673

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

The Landscape with the Baptism of Christ represents an innovative, naturalistic school of landscape painting developed in seventeenth-century Naples by Salvator Rosa and Micco Spadaro. Rosa, the creator of this work, is said to have used oil on paper to sketch his landscapes directly from nature.  This preparatory technique may well account for the lush details evident in Rosa’s rocky, river scene. The meticulous realism of his looming wilderness also serves as a visual metaphor of Christ’s humility. Here the Creator is willingly enveloped by His creation.

The Baptism (which came into the museum collection in 1955) was first brought from Italy to America in 1836. Art scholar Ian Kennedy notes: “At that time the 18th century taste for the picturesque still remained in fashion in the new world and found ready acceptance in a young country engaged in conquering the wilderness.” Although aesthetic emphases and stylistic techniques have varied widely since that time, the transcendent allure of capturing nature’s beauty inspired by Baroque landscape painters like Rosa remains.

David Clayton in The Way of Beauty observes, “The baroque landscape is based upon an assumption that mankind is the greatest of God’s creatures and has a uniquely privileged position within it. The rest of creation is made by God, so that we might know Him through it.  Creation’s beauty calls us to itself and then beyond, to the Creator. Man is made to apprehend the beauty of creation.”

Donnalynn Hess, Director of Education

 

For more on David Clayton’s book,  The Way of Beauty, visit http://thewayofbeauty.org/buy-the-way-of-beauty-book/.

 

Published in 2016

Object of the Month: June 2016

Cassone

Polychrome and giltwood

Italian, 16th century

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

In the not-too-distant-past, young women acquired hope chests to hold clothing, linens, and other items needed to set up housekeeping after marriage. In medieval and Renaissance Italy, similar chests, called cassoni (singular, cassone) served the same purpose. The ornate chests reflected the wealth and status of the families; even the size and grandeur of the cassoni conveyed the importance of the bride’s family, which in this case must have been substantial. Part of the wedding celebrations included the parading of cassoni through the streets from the bride’s home to her new home.

Portraits of the bride and groom are painted at each end of the Cassone.

To complete a cassone, the project required a variety of artisans—woodworkers, ironworkers, artists working in gesso for the ornate pastiglia  and gilding, and painters for the inlaid painted panels. It is probable that this cassone once had a decorative back called a spalliera, which is now missing. All of these components combined to make the cassone more impressive and expensive. The portraits of the bride and groom on each end of the cassone provide a beautiful, personal touch.

Sometimes an object of art contains clues on the back as to the history of its ownership, known as provenance. For example, a brass plate on the back of this cassone gives the information of “A. van Dyke 1599-1641.” Obviously added at a later date, there must have been some evidence to support the claim. It is known that Anthony van Dyke lived in Italy for six years (1621–1627). It seems especially appropriate that he would have owned this object which beautifully exhibits Renaissance portraiture since he became one of the best known portraitists who ever lived.

Another clue bears the name “Mrs. Rockefeller McCormick.” Edith Rockefeller McCormick was at one time one of the wealthiest women in America. She built an Italian-inspired villa on Lake Michigan and filled it with antiques. A chest such as this one would have fit in perfectly with the décor of the villa.

Anne Short, Volunteer Collection Researcher & Retired Docent

Published in 2016

Object of the Month: December 2015

The Adoration of the Shepherds

Oil on canvas

Pier Francesco Sacchi

Lombardian, c. 1485–1528

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

The Adoration of the Shepherds by Pier Francesco Sacchi, in the Museum & Gallery Collection, can best be understood when one is familiar with the historical context in which the work was composed and is knowledgeable about various aspects of the composition itself.

This interesting work was composed during the Renaissance—a “rebirth” of individualism, natural science, and classical education during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, which ended the medieval era.  Renaissance art reflects this “rebirth” which finally reached its zenith in the early 1490s centering on three central figures: da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael.  This apex lasted about 35 years up until Rome became a Papal State in 1527.

High Renaissance painter Pier Francesco Sacchi was from a Lombard (northern Italian) village called Pavia as indicated by his signature on several of his works.  Later, he moved slightly south to the coastal city of Genoa where he apprenticed under Pantaleo Berengerio and became a member of the guild of painters in 1520.  The few paintings that can be credited to him are all religious subjects.

Sacchi’s The Adoration of the Shepherd, painted in quattrocento-style (meaning a style in the 1400s, which transitioned between the medieval period and the Renaissance), was originally oil painted on a wooden panel.  However, this work is one of two paintings in M&G’s collection that was transferred from its original wood panel to canvas due to decay.

Old Master painters followed a centuries-old, church tradition of painting specific symbols and attributes along with individual saints for the illiterate masses to identify visually the people and related life stories.  This use of symbolism is prevalent in Sacchi’s work.

For example, the classical ruins as the backdrop for the scene are not a stable for animals.  Rather, they reference Antiquity, and the broken arch represents both a bankrupt past and the necessity of the new covenant with Christ. The goldfinch, said to have eaten thorns, foreshadows Christ’s crucifixion; and the lamb the shepherd holds signifies that Christ, the Lamb of God, will offer up Himself as a living sacrifice for mankind.  The worn out knees of the man holding a Renaissance instrument (called a hurdy-gurdy) represent a life of kneeling in prayer.  The bundle of wheat used for Christ’s headrest prefigures His reference to Himself as the Bread of Life.  Christ lying on the ground and the sparrow, considered the lowliest of birds, references Christ’s humility in coming to earth; and, finally, the tree full of leaves in the background symbolizes life, and the bare branches symbolize death.

In order to “read” a work of art, understanding the historical context in which the work was composed and the various aspects of the composition itself are necessary.  M&G’s The Adoration of the Shepherds by Pier Francesco Sacchi affords the perfect opportunity for deeper knowledge about historical culture in light of Scripture.

Heather Osborne, Former M&G Graduate Assistant

 

Published in 2015

Object of the Month: November 2015

The Last Judgment 

Oil on panel

Giovanni Filippo Criscuolo (attr. to)

Neapolitan, c. 1495–1584

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

This theatrical scene of the last judgment attributed to the sixteenth-century painter Giovanni Filippo Criscuolo beautifully illustrates the era’s emerging artistic trends. Although his hometown of Naples would remain artistically provincial well into the seventeenth century, Criscuolo’s travels to Rome broadened his perspective. Inspired by the art of Michelangelo and Raphael, Criscuolo’s work reflects a more progressive style.  For example, the colors, poses, and compositional technique are similar to Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel frescos.

Criscuolo’s interpretation of the spirit world is also intriguing. Two Medieval literary works influencing renderings like this one were Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologica and Dante’s Divine Comedy.

In Summa Theologica, Aquinas organizes the spirit world into specific ranks (or choirs). Those in the first rank (solely dedicated to face-to-face worship of God) are often pictured as disembodied spirits, “pure thought,” like those surrounding Christ’s throne in Criscuolo’s painting. The second rank dedicated to knowing God through contemplation of the universe are here pictured beside Mary and John the Baptist in the midpoint of his canvas. The third rank comprised of angelic messengers who interact in human affairs, are represented in the lower register by the archangel Michael and Satan and their minions. In addition, the wings of the satanic beings are much like those described by Dante: No feathers did they bear but as of a bat/ Their fashion was . . . (Inferno, Canto 34).

As Renaissance artists became increasingly dedicated to bringing the heavens down to earth, angels become more recognizably human; their wings, faces, and bodies sculpted in beautiful detail. By the nineteenth century, such differentiations between the earthly and the heavenly had all but disappeared.

Donnalynn Hess, Director of Education

 

Published in 2015

Object of the Month: March 2015

Monks before a Fireplace 

Oil on canvas

Alessandro Magnasco, called Il Lissandrino

Genoese, 1667–1749

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

No matter the era or the medium, it seems you can always count on artists to challenge the status quo.

Alessandro Magnasco was born in Genoa, northern Italy, in 1667. His father Stefano was a minor artist who died when Magnasco was only five years old. Around the age of ten, Magnasco was sent to Milan to live under the care of a patron while he learned commerce. However, his interests lay along the same lines as his father’s, and before long he had convinced his patron to sponsor an apprenticeship for him with the renowned Mannerist painter, Filippo Abbiati, of Milan. By 1690, Magnasco had mastered his craft and had established himself as a portraitist. This phase of his career lasted only a brief time before he transitioned into his distinguished, celebrated style.

Magnasco’s style is something of an anomaly, even for the eclectic movement that is the Baroque. His is a nervous, loose brushwork that conveys fluid movement and hazy figures and settings. Murky tones pervade his paintings, with the occasional pockets of stark light and strong color. Arguably his most interesting characteristic is his choice of unusual subject matter.

In a time largely characterized by paintings of religious subject matter, Magnasco chose instead to focus on the common man, such as beggars and gypsies, and on some of the more obscure facets of contemporary life, such as shadowy synagogue interiors and scenes of monastic life. Interestingly, Magnasco also often chose to portray scenes charged with social commentary, going even so far as to treat highly controversial subjects—in his day as well as our own—as in his painting of an Inquisition torture scene. Magnasco seemed captivated by the mysterious, socially questionable, and the bizarre.

Monks before a Fireplace is characteristic of Magnasco’s mature style. His elongated figures are reminiscent of the mannerist El Greco. At the same time, his monochromatic palate and mysterious, almost ghoulish, atmosphere heralds the coming of nineteenth-century realist Francisco Goya. Here, Magnasco once again presents the common man in his paintings—humble monks instead of otherworldly saints. His figures possess a uniformity, functioning almost as a nameless, faceless unit. But on closer examination, the figures are strikingly distinct, suggesting the idiosyncrasies of the individuals within the group including the monk perusing his crinkled manuscript and the man warming his feet at the fire while toying with the resident cat. He captures a snapshot of a quiet moment in contemporary monastic life.

Indeed, Magnasco’s very essence seems almost out of place in his world, a nod to modernism from the late baroque era.

Katharine Golighty, former Docent & Guest Services Attendant

 

Published in 2015

Object of the Month: December 2014

Madonna and Child with an Angel (“Madonna of the Magnificat”)

Tempera on panel

Alessandro di Mariano Filipepi, called Sandro Botticelli (and studio)

Florentine, 1444/45–1510

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

The Florentine master Botticelli is known for creating elegantly fluid lines that give his paintings what art experts call an “ethereal quality.” Two expressive works showcasing this skill are his Madonna and Child with an Angel (c. 1490) and his Mystic Nativity (c. 1500).  Although both works highlight Christ’s incarnation, the overall composition and thematic nuances are vastly different.

This first work, a tondo from M&G’s collection, portrays a tender embrace between Mary and the Christ child.  The pose of the central figures readily awakens in the viewer that universal feeling of familial love.  It is an intimate human scene, but one that illuminates the wonder of the Word becoming flesh. This wonder is further explored through the angel who (unlike most angelic messengers) is without the defining attribute of wings. The angel’s focus on Mary’s Magnificat is also significant, for it draws our attention to the text that “gives voice” to the painting’s key theme: “My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.”

The beautiful intimacy between Mary and the Christ child is also implied through the central vignette of his Mystic Nativity. However, radiating from this focal point is a sweeping panorama that takes the viewer beyond the incarnation to the final judgment. It is one of Botticelli’s most unusual works; it is also his only known signed painting. In his later years, Botticelli came under the influence of the fiery reformer Savonarola. In The Panorama of the Renaissance Margaret Aston notes that the “more expressive and powerful force discernible in his later works may represent his spiritual response to [Savonarola and] the spiritual unrest in Florence.”  Aston also points out that despite the juxtaposition of the incarnation with the apocalypse, the overall tone of the painting is joy. The apocalypse, usually so terrifying, is here transformed through the angels’ celebration.  Clearly, this nativity will change everything.

Donnalynn Hess, Director of Education

 

Published in 2014

Object of the Month: October 2014

A Sibyl

Oil on canvas

Ginevra Cantofoli

Bolognese, 1618-1672

 

Click on the links throughout the article to view additional artists’ works and reference material.

From the Middle Ages to the early Renaissance, an artist’s instruction commonly occurred in the workshop of master painters or religious orders; however, in the 13th century, the craft guild system launched an apprenticeship program to carefully regulate the training, materials, and assessment of prescribed artistic techniques. The standard training began for boys (around 13 years of age) within a master’s workshop setting, which lasted 3-7 years; this process became the required expectation as outlined in Cennino Cennini’s, The Craftsman’s Handbook, a how-to-guide to artistic techniques, “If you do not see some practice under some master, you will never amount to anything, nor will you ever be able to hold your head up in the company of masters.”

Once completing the basic preparatory skills, the youth could progress to “journeyman” (a master’s assistant) by possibly journeying to another city to study and practice under a different master at a new level of training and collaboration. After 3-4 years (sometimes longer), he was allowed to submit a test piece to be evaluated by both his own master and other guild representatives. If his “masterpiece” passed, he would then be able to work as a “master” painter himself and acquire a permit to establish his own workshop and apprentices—hence the name, Old Master painters.

During the Renaissance, a new concept of artistic training developed known as The Academy—a private, informal instruction venue that not only developed artistic skill, but also included life observation, philosophy, and discussion to increase knowledge and broaden understanding.

These various methods of training were challenging for artists, but produced some well-known greats as well as some very gifted lesser known artists. While art education was well framed, suited to males, and even strictly regulated in areas, there were yet some options for a female to pursue training and have a presence in the world of art.  One historian states, “Although there were routes to follow for a man who wanted to be an artist and no map at all for a woman, art training was more flexible than it seemed on the surface.”  Even when excluded from apprenticeships and academies, history provides many examples of women that received artistic training through private tuition or lessons (if her family had money), from an artist-father in his workshop, in a convent, or from seeking out friendly advice.

Interestingly, a number of the known female painters spring from Bologna, Italy in particular.  It was a city where women outnumbered the men and a place that prided itself for its famous university which as early as the 13th century opened its doors to women (some of whom became lecturers renowned for their scholarship).

Elisabetta Sirani, grew up in Bologna and under the tutelage of her artist-father, Giovanni Andrea Sirani, who (somewhat reluctantly) trained her in the manner of his master, the “Divine Guido” Reni. She became a respected painter and received important commissions for churches and portraits.  She became a member of “merit” as a full professor and a member of “honor” of the Academy of St. Luke in Rome—one of the first women painters and the only Bolognese of her generation to enjoy this privilege.  Since she was officially recognized as a professional artist, she could direct her own studio, take on apprentices, and train young artists. Breaking the tradition based on the model of arts education for men and women, Sirani welcomed women of all ages and backgrounds in her atelier including amateurs and aspiring artists like Ginevra Cantofoli, who went on to make a reputation of her own.

Ginevra Cantofoli is believed to come from a well-to-do family and was older than her teacher; yet, she was one of Elisabetta’s favorites and possibly became one of her assistants. She based many of her works on her teacher’s, and subsequently, some of her works have been confused as Sirani’s. However, she also produced original works including those for the Foresti family chapel and other large scale compositions for churches in Bologna. Rare for the 17th century, she earned her living as a professional artist; this is confirmed by a legal document drafted by the artist herself in 1688 in which reference is made to “money by her earned by her work of painting.”

A sibyl in classical mythology is a female prophetess often pictured with a book or scroll and which symbolized the harmony between Christian and Classical ideals.  However, this work is unusual as a self-portrait of Ginevra who blends the classical sibyl and Hebrew prophetess. By painting a sibyl, she associated herself with areas where women had little influence during the time, such as ancient literature and languages and religious painting.

Based on history and the great numbers of male Old Masters that followed the accepted training processes, it is unusual to see works by female Old Masters; however if you visit M&G, you can see at least two examples on display in the collection including this unique self-portrait.

Erin R. Jones, Executive Director

 

Published in 2014

Object of the Month: June 2014

The Holy Trinity

Tempera on panel

Lorenzo di Niccolò di Martino

Florentine, active 1392–1412

 

Lorenzo di Niccolò worked in Florence around the turn of the fifteenth century—one of the most significant centuries in history known as the Renaissance. Painting during this period continued in the tradition of Giotto (begun a century earlier), and Lorenzo’s own style was not much different from that tradition along with other contemporary artists. While paintings of the Trinity were common imagery within altarpieces of the time, Niccolò’s depiction is unique—painted in a way never done before. All known earlier representations of the Trinity in this configuration (known as “The Mercy Seat”) are depicted with God the Father sitting behind the crucified Christ; whereas, here, God the Father is shown standing.

Perhaps today this seems like an insignificant modification, but in the fourteenth century iconography was more codified; deviations articulated meaning, tradition, and Church dogma—all issues firmly upheld and monitored by Church officials. Interestingly, Trinity subjects with God the Father in a standing position were rare until the same concept appeared about 20 years later in one of the most famous paintings in history, Masaccio’s fresco of the Holy Trinity at Santa Maria Novella, Florence.

Another nuance of Niccolò’s imagery is that God the Father is also shown as a young man—the same likeness used for Christ. This approach heightens the physical and spiritual connection between the Father and Son, who are mysteriously distinct persons in a unified Trinity. However, the depiction of a youthful Heavenly Father was later forbidden by papal edict revealing that the iconography shown in this painting was short lived in art history.

An intriguing facet of this panel is that the entire back side of the panel is painted (with the exception of areas of wear and damage expected for an artwork over 600 years old). A full, decorative reverse side of a painting is somewhat common to early Italian panel paintings and suggests that people were intended to view the reverse. Sometimes entire narratives or portraits are found on the back of paintings; others have painted inscriptions or symbols for organizations such as confraternities. However, the pattern and application here supply a completely abstract, decorative function. In fact, the effect was intended to mimic the type of decorative marble inlaid patterns commonly incorporated into many existing Florentine churches, including the Duomo, Santa Maria Novella, and Santa Croce.

Preliminary research has revealed an almost identical pattern for what we see on this panel on a wall fresco border painted by Agnolo Gaddi in 1380 at Santa Croce. This pattern could be a clue to its inclusion in that same church to match the existing faux stonework existing on the walls. The pattern is distinct and would have the same markings as some or all of the other panels associated with the altarpiece from which this panel came. Such unique features can aid in attribution and dating, if related panels have firm documentation.

John M. Nolan, Curator 

 

Published in 2014

 

Object of the Month: March 2014

St. Cecilia

Oil on canvas

Giovanni Lanfranco

Roman, 1582-1647

 

Generally, a painter’s style refers to the way an artist executes a painting. Style can also be described as a general trend in painting usually initiated by an artist seeking to paint in an innovative or previously unexplored way.  However, a specific artist’s style can often be revealed in his individual expression—idiosyncrasies that help experts identify his work. For example, an artist may paint faces with certain characteristics (i.e. chubby cheeks, almond-shaped eyes, or small ears), use backgrounds in a similar way, or mark out his composition with heavy drawings before painting.

The technique an artist uses to apply paint is also characteristic of style. Every painter employs certain techniques that become distinctive to them—Botticelli outlined his figures; Rembrandt used very thick paint in highlights; Degas used hatching marks in his pastels; Van Gogh used thick paint for each individual brushstroke, etc… So, the actual stroke and method an artist uses to apply paint becomes an integral part of his personal style. Connoisseurs and scholars thoroughly inspect, discern, and memorize both the artist’s characteristic techniques and the general style or trend the artist follows—these are subjective considerations in determining a painting’s attribution.

To illustrate the concepts of style and technique, consider the context of Lanfranco’s painting of St. Cecilia from c.1620. At the turn of the 17th century, Italian artist Caravaggio initiated a style of painting viewed as revolutionary for his time. Artists all around him were painting in the “mannerist” style of the time—an eclectic blend of ideal forms with asymmetrical compositions, uneven or overall lighting effects, and garish colors. However, Caravaggio broke from these conventions to explore the dramatic possibilities of lighting combined with a candid, straightforward realism.

Caravaggio’s innovative style flourished rapidly within Rome’s fertile artistic environment, and Giovanni Lanfranco was one of the artists influenced by Caravaggio’s radical style, as evidenced in M&G’s painting. The half-length figures emerge from a dark background, bathed in a heavenly light streaming in from the upper left. The effect is intensified by deep shadows covering nearly half of each figure. This manipulation of light mixed with a strong sense of realism meet the criteria for the style that Caravaggio inspired called tenebrism.

Lanfranco worked in the tenebrist style intermittently throughout his career, with this St. Cecilia being one of his best representative works. However, M&G’s work is not his only treatment of this subject. The National Gallery’s St. Cecilia and an Angel in Washington D.C. provides unique insight into identifying Lanfranco’s particular style and technique; the National Gallery painting has been confirmed as a collaboration of two artists—Giovanni Lanfranco and Orazio Gentileschi. In 1990, Erich Schleier, the foremost scholar on Giovanni Lanfranco, expressed the opinion that the sleeves and hands of St. Cecilia reflect the style of Lanfranco (for centuries before, the painting bore a firm attribution to Orazio Gentileschi, one of Caravaggio’s principal Roman followers). Following Schleier’s input, further research was made into the old Rondanini inventories from which the National Gallery (and M&G’s) painting once belonged. Alessandro Rondanini’s painting inventory compiled on January 19, 1741 described two St. Cecilia paintings: one (M&G’s) by Lanfranco says, “St. Cecilia playing the cembalo with two angels,” and the other St. Cecilia (National Gallery) “with the heads by the hand of Gentileschi and the rest by Giovanni Lanfranco.”

Not only did the 1741 inventory confirm the attribution of the National Gallery’s painting to Gentileschi and Lanfranco, but analysis of x-radiographs, pigments, and x-ray fluorescence by National Gallery conservators have also supported this conclusion. This remarkable example reveals how expert (subjective) opinion by Erich Schleier led to objective proof for the collaborative attribution found in an old inventory and supported by scientific tests.

Studying the sleeves of M&G’s St. Cecilia furnishes insight into Schleier’s stylistic and technical analysis of comparing Lanfranco’s hands and sleeves in the Washington painting. Cecilia’s hands in both works are formed in a curved manner, almost as if no bone structure supported the flesh. Since artists tend to paint similar figural forms in paintings from a particular phase of their career, the stylistic detail of the hands in the Washington and Greenville paintings reflect the way Lanfranco uniquely handled this element of his composition. The flowing sleeves have highlights painted with rapid, bold brushstrokes, which is another stylistic trait carried over in each work.

In 1620, Lanfranco turned from the influence of other artists and was the first to develop an inventive style of ceiling fresco that presents an atmospheric illusion of figures rising into the heavens by using dramatic foreshortening and figure recession as seen in the fresco of the dome of S. Andrea della Valle in Rome; this Lanfranco innovation created a sensation inspiring many artists after him to use and develop this style.

John M. Nolan, Curator

 

Published in 2014

 

Object of the Month: February 2014

Madonna and Child with Saints

Tempera on panel, 1469

Baldassare di Biagio del Firenze (called the Master of Benabbio) and Matteo Civitali

Biago: Florentine, c. 1450-1500; Civitali: Luccan, c. 1436-1501

Paintings dating to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries present an inherent obstacle—attribution, since artists were not consistently signing works prior to the nineteenth century. To compound the problem, many artists up until the mid-1400s painted in a similar manner, not especially concerned with individual styles and expression. When art experts are unable to associate an unsigned painting with a particular known master painter, a pseudonym is derived from the name of the place where the most characteristic work of the unknown artist resides.

In the case of this painting, the artist was known as the “Master of Benabbio” when we acquired the painting in 1961. This unknown artist’s best representative work was a triptych that belongs to the church of Santa Maria Assunta in the small, Tuscan village of Benabbio, Italy; hence the unknown artist was dubbed “Master of Benabbio.”

Scholars who research and distinguish authorship for unsigned paintings specialize in a particular field of study; their specialization usually focuses on a particular country and time period but may also narrow further to a particular region or city. This concentration allows the scholar to review closely the nuances of artists’ particular styles working in a certain time and place, honing the skill of art connoisseurship.

Another facet of researching authorship for Old Master paintings involves documentary evidence. Scholars using archives comb through original documents (often dating hundreds of years old) looking for clues that will allow them to piece together information for a known work of art. In 1978 one such art historian, Massimo Ferretti, defined the career and primary works of the “Master of Benabbio.” Ferretti connected M&G’s painting with a citation in Michele Ridolfi’s 1819 publication of a sixteenth century inventory of the church of San Michele in Antraccoli (near Lucca) which said, “In the Oratory of the Company next to the church there is an old altar of wood in Gothic ‘gusto,’ in the panels of which is represented the Virgin and Child, and the four saints, and in the predella below the twelve apostles; it is a work of the Florentine School of uncertain author, and bears a date of the year 1469.” Since the artist’s name was not mentioned in this inventory, he continued to be known under the pseudonym, “Master of Benabbio.”

The inventory’s date of 1469 corresponds exactly to the date that is written in Roman numerals across the base of the triptych. Furthermore, the prominent presence of St. Michael the Archangel on the left side of the painting supports its position as the main altar of a church dedicated to this same saint, San Michele.

Subsequent archival research by Roberto Ciardi in 1997 led to the discovery of the original contract when this altarpiece was commissioned by Antonio del fu Domenico and Biagio del fu Tofanello for the Church of San Michele di Antraccoli. The contract says on December 15, 1467, Antonio del fu Domenicho and Biagio del fu Tofanello, operai (workers), sindici, e procuratori (prosecutors) dell’opera (of the work) di San Michele di Antraccolo, commissioned “Valdassar olim Bazii del Firenze, lucensis civis et Matteus olim Johnnis di Coviatlie, Luce commorans, pictures,” to paint a ‘tabulam de lignamine’ for the high altar of San Michele within ten months for seventy ducats. The artists were to begin in January 1468 and to complete the painting in ten months. However, the altarpiece was not delivered until October 6, 1469—twenty months later.

Documentation such as this provides concrete evidence for the attribution of this altarpiece to not one, but two prominent Luccan artists of the Italian Renaissance—Baldassare di Biagio del Firenze and Matteo Civitali. For centuries it was thought that only one artist, provisionally called “Master of Benabbio,” was responsible for the painting. However, the contract revealed that the painting was actually a collaborative effort, which was not unusual for this time period or for these artists. The importance is in the firm identification of the artists.

The significance for Baldassare is that this is one of the few altarpieces of his where the original church context is known. Furthermore, his artistic personality is still in its infancy because until 1982, the artist’s works were only known by the elusive pseudonym, Master of Benabbio. A secure attribution and dating for this altarpiece make it a benchmark for judging undocumented works thought to be by him.

As for Matteo Civitali, the documentation for this altarpiece is paramount. Until 1997, Matteo Civitali’s acclaim rested wholly on his work as a sculptor. He is considered to be the most important marble sculptor outside Florence during the second half of the fifteenth century. In spite of his fame as a carver, historical evidence pointed to his activity as a painter as well, though no painting could firmly be identified. Before the revelation of the contract for our polyptych identifying him as a collaborator, the extent of his painting activity was only surmised. Now M&G’s polyptych has become a key work for Civitali’s career as a painter. In 2004, this polyptych traveled to the Villa Giunigi in Lucca, Italy for an important monographic exhibition focused on the career of Matteo Civitali.

John M. Nolan, Curator

 

Published in 2014

 

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