This vibrant painting depicting Abraham and his family’s departure for Canaan features many of the details that the Bassano family were skilled in painting.
Tag Archives: Italian renaissance
Madonna and Child with Angels
Tempera and oil on panel
Master of the Greenville Tondo
Umbrian, active late 15th century
This mystery painting was once attributed to the young Umbrian, Raphael as possibly one of his early works (Giuseppe Fiocco, 1937), which could “aid in the studies of the formation of Raphael’s personality” (Mario Salmi). Then, it was suggested as characteristic of Raphael’s teacher in Umbria, Pietro Vannucci, called Perugino (William Suida, 1941 and Wilhelm von Bode, 1921). But it was the great historian Federico Zeri in 1959 and later followed by Everett Fahy, former Metropolitan Museum of Art curator and Director of the Frick, who suggested a different old master entirely.
This tondo (Italian for “round”) is puzzling, but understanding the cultural context of patronage, traditional artistic training, and the workshop setting can help explain some of the mystery.
In the Middle Ages through the early Renaissance, workshop practice was the only common form of artistic instruction in Italy beginning with the religious orders, monasteries, and convents. The Trades (sculptor, mason, architect) were taught from father to son or from an older family member to a younger. Formal apprenticeships emerged in the 13th century in the context of the craft guild system when workshop or bound apprenticeship became a fully regulated system for lay artists. Then, during the 15th century, the dislike for the guild system’s restrictions and process led to an adapted concept of artistic training, called the Academy. The specific training process for artists is further developed in the article about M&G’s painting, A Sibyl by female Old Master, Ginevra Cantofoli.
Throughout all of these training methods to become a master of one’s own workshop, imitation was the most important component of artistic training. Master painters employed a workshop of assistants to copy or paint in his style and to help meet the incoming demand of commissions by patrons. These points are critical to understanding why it is difficult to attribute a specific artistic personality to today’s enduring Old Master paintings. Besides, most painters well into the late 1400s and early 1500s did not autograph their finished works, and finding the original documents commissioning paintings can be challenging.
However, when the artist is unknown, yet there is an entire group of works that look to be by the same master’s hand, the experts (as in this case) will suggest a pseudonym—create a name for the artist after the place or location where his best or most representative work resides. Zeri and Fahy chose M&G’s painting as the namesake for the painter, “The Master of the Greenville Tondo,” meaning this tondo in Greenville, SC.
According to historian Carrie Baker, this painter, subject, and style reflect the “prevailing visual tastes of the period.” Workshop practice utilized multiple assistants and collaborative work to fill commissions that looked like the master’s hand. The assistants were all skilled artisans but working for the key master. Not knowing the assistants’ names isn’t an issue as this was their occupation: to reproduce works at the request of clients in the consistent style of the master to meet customer expectations. Today, we can photograph and print our favorite originals, but then artists could only copy and repeat. Works like M&G’s Madonna and Child with Angels reflect a popular subject and shape of the period, and providing paintings like M&G’s at a client’s request was the master’s way of “positioning . . . his workshop at an economic advantage.”
Many of the masters and their assistants were truly “Renaissance” men—able to tackle the design of many things, not just paintings but manuscripts, reliquary, sculpture, fabrics, architectural features, etc. The anonymous artist as Baker notes, “was probably an active participant of a working-class system of many trades.” The artist is unknown, but by comparing similar characteristics, experts have connected at least 32 works as having come from this same artist’s hand found in places including Pancole, Italy, the Museum of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg in Florida, Princeton University Art Museum in New Jersey, the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, and the Estensi Gallery in Modena, Italy.
Regardless of this painting and many others not being attributed to a specific, known personality—such as a respected influencer like Perugino or a major name of the Renaissance like Raphael, this master’s work was just as valuable in shaping Umbria’s artistic identity. And, more than that, our painting is shaping the estimation of our own community through the designation “Master of the Greenville Tondo”—bringing honor and recognition to the city of Greenville throughout the world where other works by this unknown master are displayed.
Erin R. Jones, Executive Director
Published 2025
Friday, February 14, 2025 at 7PM
Hosted by the Museum & Gallery in the Davis Room, campus of Bob Jones University
Gems, pearls, and paintings have long been viewed as treasures by all. Bring a friend or a Valentine for an opportunity to trace these beautiful objects from medieval times through the Victorian era while experiencing some of the tastes and sounds of the past—with a Valentine twist.
To culminate the evening, the Charleston Silver Lady, Dawn Corley will present a fascinating glimpse into the world of pearls. Plus, enjoy an exclusive opportunity to purchase unusual pearls from some of the world’s richest diving fields—for yourself or your Valentine.
A portion of the proceeds will go toward M&G’s annual fund.
Registration: $25 per person
Heavy hors d’oeuvres and sweets will be served. Space is limited.
Register HERE.
Scenes from The Annunciation: God the Father in a Glory of Angels, St. Gabriel the Archangel and The Virgin Annunciate
Oil on canvas
Francesco Montemezzano
Venetian, c.1540-after 1602
In museum collections, including the Museum & Gallery, there are paintings that were once part of a larger narrative, but now stand as individual works of art. These pieces, usually parts of large altarpieces, have been reduced in size for various reasons such as damage to the whole, for profit, or to fit a new arrangement. Very few that have been broken up have managed to stay together. Francesco Montemezzano’s The Annunciation is one of those lucky few.
At first glance in the galleries, you may notice a similar velvety color palette and free brushwork but may not realize they are one of a whole. If not for the close arrangement in display, one may not be able to see the full image. Originally in a horizontal format, the painting was altered sometime in the seventeenth century to fit a vertical, architectural enframement. Despite this physical cropping, we can still see the theme of the annunciation.
The annunciation is a common subject portrayed in Christian art. The moment is recorded in Luke 1:26-38 where Gabriel informs Mary that she will fulfill the prophecy of Isaiah 7:14 promising “a virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel.” This theme became very popular in fifteenth-century altarpieces and were reinterpreted by artists throughout history such as Fra Angelico, Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, Caravaggio, Peter Paul Rubens, and John William Waterhouse. Each artist put their own spin on the theme, reflecting the stylistic ethos of the time and the artists’ own taste, but there are common elements.
Mary, Gabriel, and a dove are the main figures. Sometimes they are outside in an hortus conclusus or “enclosed garden,” and other times they are cloistered inside, symbolizing Mary’s chastity. Lilies are usually present, carried by Gabriel or somewhere in the composition, further emphasizing Mary’s purity as a virgin. Mary is commonly shown in prayer with a prayer book or missal kneeling at a prie-dieu. A dove or beam of light usually represents God’s blessing on Mary as His chosen handmaiden or the symbol of immaculate conception.
With this brief background, Montemezzano’s Annunciation stands out. We can see architectural elements throughout the three paintings and a possible garden behind Mary. Was this Montemezzano’s nod to the hortus conclusus? And where is the dove or beam of light that is often shown? Because of its fragmented state, we may never know exactly what the artist designed. However, Montemezzano did include one unique figure in this Annunciation—God the Father. Very few depictions of the annunciation include a physical God the Father, most only show his messenger Gabriel and the dove.
There are actually two other annunciation scenes in M&G’s collection that show God the Father in physical form (one found in galleries 4 and 10). Here, in Montemezzano’s work, God the Father is shown breaking through clouds and the architectural ceiling, symbolizing His passage into the earthly realm. Despite the unique inclusion of God the Father, His presence fits the annunciation theme perfectly. It is a foreshadowing of another part of the Trinity, Jesus, coming into our world to dwell with us as told by Matthew 1:23, “Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.”
The Annunciation reminds us of promises fulfilled, how a Savior will dwell with us and come into this broken world to make us whole. While this painting will never have that opportunity to be truly whole again, we as believers are reminded of that promise for us this Christmas season.
KC Christmas Beach, M&G summer art educator
Published 2024
The Coronation of the Virgin
Antonio Checchi (called Guidaccio da Imola)
Below the image, click play to listen.
Credenza
Walnut
Italian, 15th or 16th century
Gift of Paul W. Doll
In 1970, one of the Museum & Gallery’s primary early donors contributed this piece—a 15th-16th century carved walnut Credenza. As a furnishing, credenzas began as functioning sideboards, the top of which were meant for preparation and presentation of food. Long, low cabinets, often featuring drawers or doors for storing dishes and glasses, credenzas were often draped with expensive fabrics in wealthier homes.
Taken from medieval Latin, credenza means “belief” or “confidence” (sharing its derivation with our English word, “credence”). In our modern mindset, it is somewhat difficult to comprehend how the idea of “confidence” might have been wedded to a piece of wooden furniture, but it likely began as an association of the act of testing a noble’s food for poison.
Lest we discount such a probability, it’s helpful to understand the historical context. As far back as A.D. 1198, the Jewish doctor and philosopher Maimonides wrote a treatise on the subject for his employer, Sultan Saladin of Egypt and Syria. Maimonides gave detailed instruction, urging Saladin to insist his server or host eat a large portion of each dish before beginning to eat his own.
It seems unlikely to us that the need to test food could be so great, but historical examples may aid here. During the reign of Henry VIII in 16th-century England (the era in which M&G’s Credenza was constructed in Italy), the king employed some 200 persons in Hampton Court’s kitchens alone. While other European royalty and nobility may have employed smaller staffs, there was still ample opportunity for poisoning a ruler’s food. As servants delivered dishes to the dining room, they placed the dishes on the piece of furniture where credence tests for poisons were conducted, a literal credenza.
The face of M&G’s 16th-century walnut credenza was crafted of five solid boards, with overlay panels applied over each. Each of these panels is ornamented with detailed carving—four of these featuring profile busts of Renaissance figures (a technique called romayne). Each pair of these panels form doors, and the doors flank a fixed central panel carved with a grotesque mask. Hovering above the five front panels are three drawers, largely camouflaged by detailed fluted carving. The two end panels are simpler, each contain a distinctively Italian carved rosette and each lack the fluted frieze at the top. Along the front of the top plank are periodic dowel caps, indicating that the top is formed of smaller individual planks.
This style of carved Renaissance credenza is typical of both France and Italy, but individual elements indicate that this piece is most likely from Northern Italy, while still reflecting influences from the surrounding countries. Construction, materials, and ornamentation help to date the Credenza to the end of the 15th century to the middle of the 16th. Specifically, the detailed clothing of the men and women carved on the face of this credenza is like a Renaissance time capsule. The winged helmet worn by the first male (far left), for instance, depicts a sallet, a combat helmet which replaced the bascinet (helmet) in the mid-15th century. Later sallets dispensed with face protection and featured gracefully curved surfaces. These were preferred by more lightly armed troops and suggest that this credenza was built no earlier than about A.D. 1460.
Fascinating historic pieces such as M&G’s Credenza provide windows through which we understand the lives and culture of those who came before us and, in this case, an era upon which much of our modern Western civilization is built.
Dr. Stephen B. Jones, M&G volunteer
In this altarpiece featuring the Madonna and Christ child, the artist includes several details to embellish the scene, including a child playing a lute. Learn more about this popular Renaissance instrument HERE.
Christ the Redeemer
Oil on panel, c. 1545
Paris Bordone
Venetian, 1500-1571
Museums are filled with works of art of all shapes and sizes. Of course, the large paintings immediately grab a viewer’s attention. However, it is sometimes the small pieces that bring viewers in close and create intimate connections. One of these examples from the Museum & Gallery is a work called Christ the Redeemer. It is a half-length portrait of Christ holding a book, and with its frame it is only around 18 inches by 15 inches. Despite its somewhat simple subject matter and small stature, this painting draws you in and raises questions.
One question woven into the work is the identification of the artist. Various art historians confirm its sixteenth-century Venetian origins because of its color palette and brushwork. When the painting originally became part of the Museum collection in 1954, the artist attached to it was the Venetian Renaissance master Titian. Regarded by his contemporaries as “The Sun Amidst Small Stars,” Titian had a successful career throughout his life and his studio became one of the most influential of the Italian Renaissance. There are specific similarities between Titian’s other portraits of Christ and this Christ the Redeemer such as facial features, the treatment of the hands, as well as previous miniatures created by Titian—which seem to confirm the master’s authorship. However, more recent art historians claim that while the panel is certainly Titianesque, the more likely artist is another Venetian painter, Paris Bordone. Bordone studied under Titian and emulated the master’s style so well that many of Bordone’s works have been misattributed to Titian’s hand. He may not have had as glittering a career as Titian, but Bordone was a successful painter, earning respect and fame during his lifetime.
Another question is the iconography of the painting. The portrait of Christ with a book is not an uncommon one. It reflects the words from John 1:1, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Since Early Christian art, Christ has been shown either enthroned in majesty or surrounded by various saints holding a book, which is more than likely the Gospels. What becomes interesting is this iconography continues in Eastern Orthodox art, but becomes rare in post-Medieval Western art. One reason Bordone may have included this iconography is because it was similar to another kind of portrait—a scholar. Portraits of scholarly gentlemen or philosophers were common across Italy. M&G includes an example of these portraits with Giambattista Tiepolo’s A Philosopher Holding a Book. Using a familiar portrait pose, viewers could relate to Christ in the context of the ultimate Rabbi and teacher.
Another reason Bordone may have chosen this pose and iconography is because of its size and purpose. Less than two feet on each side, this painting is a perfect example of a cabinet painting. From the fifteenth century on, wealthy patrons would purchase these small, detailed paintings to hang in small, intimate spaces in their vast homes. These spaces, called cabinets, functioned as small offices or sitting rooms. Because of its size, the cabinet painting draws the viewer in and creates an intimate connection. Knowing this, it is understandable why Bordone may have created Christ in such a pose. It allows the viewer an opportunity to sit one-on-one with the Master Rabbi.
No matter the reasoning of the iconography or even which artist created the work, Christ the Redeemer is an intriguing painting. Like its original purpose, the small panel captivates the viewer. Maybe it will also cause the viewer to ask questions. Maybe it will draw the viewer closer to Christ as the ultimate teacher and incarnate Word in flesh.
KC Christmas Beach, M&G summer educator
Published 2024
Enjoy this series of segments highlighting Picture Books of the Past: Reading Old Master Paintings, a loan exhibition of 60+ works from the M&G collection. The exhibit has traveled to The Museum of the Bible in Washington, D.C. and the Orlando Museum of Art in Florida.
Marietta Robusti’s Allegory of Wisdom is replete with both Christian and mythological symbols. (Following your video viewing click HERE to access the additional information provided on the exhibition’s text panels.)
St. Sebastian
Oil on panel, c. 1529–30
Andrea d’Agnolo, called del Sarto (studio of)
Florentine, 1486–1530
Andrea d’Agnolo grew up in Florence and was nicknamed del Sarto meaning “of the tailor” after his father’s profession. Like other early Renaissance artists, he initially trained with a goldsmith, then studied under a series of three separate painters until he began producing his own works in 1506. He spent most of his life in Florence—except for a visit to Rome and a brief stint as court painter to King François I at Fontainebleau in 1518.
As the son of a tailor, del Sarto’s works reveal a unique understanding and love of fabrics—even seen in his 1517-1518 Portrait of a Young Man in London’s National Gallery, which may be a self-portrait (on right). Notice the finishes of the puffed sleeve, ruched white undershirt, and the vest’s seam at the shoulder.
Andrea was also influenced by his contemporaries who outlived him: Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael. Once these masters left Florence for other parts of Italy, Andrea became Florence’s leading artist in the early 1500s. He is overlooked in art history; yet he is equal in skill and quality to the three greats, and his works are beautiful and still revered today. Julian Brooks, curator of drawings at the Getty, recognizes del Sarto as the “revolutionary engine of the Renaissance and the transformer of draughtsmanship” due to his careful and creative preparatory drawings, a practice which inspired the next generations of artists to follow.
However, he has been underappreciated, even to the point of his students overshadowing him to become famous including Rosso Fiorentino, Jacopo da Pontormo, and Giorgio Vasari, biographer of contemporary Renaissance artists. Vasari records details about his teacher as related to M&G’s work. A Florentine charitable organization for plague victims, the Company of St. Sebastian commissioned Andrea del Sarto to paint a picture of St. Sebastian, the patron saint for plague victims. He became a member of the Company in February 1529, perhaps as a result of negotiations surrounding the commission. Ironically, shortly after completing the painting in 1530 during Florence’s plague epidemic, del Sarto died from the plague at 44 years old.
Several 17th-century documents list the original St. Sebastian as the property of the Company of St. Sebastian. Publications in 1759 and 1770 mention that the painting moved to the Pitti Palace in Florence. By the early 19th century, writers could no longer trace the location of the original painting—apparently it was removed from the Pitti Palace and lost.
M&G acquired St. Sebastian in 1970 from the former great British collection of the Cook family. In 2005, the National Gallery of Canada requested St. Sebastian to participate in an exhibition, and we sent our work in advance for study and conservation. The conservator Stephen Gritt found, “In its materials and construction, the painting is entirely consistent with one from Sarto’s workshop. The complete absence of any change in the design from the drawing stage on the panel through to the painting would indicate perhaps that the design had reached a point of satisfactory refinement by the time this version was produced. While this may mean that some artist other than Sarto could have painted the work, it does not exclude his participation in its production as a supervisor.”
Regarding del Sarto’s workshop practice, Julian Brooks notes that “Andrea would have been closely involved in the production of all versions, or at least those produced in his workshop during his lifetime, and these were produced side by side in the studio.” He also made, used, and reused partial cartoons.
It is difficult to confidently confirm if M&G’s St. Sebastian is the missing painting by the master, thus the current attribution, studio of Andrea del Sarto. At the least, someone very close to del Sarto painted the work. Found in Italy, Spain, England, and Austria, more than 10 other variants of the St. Sebastian exist. Even so, M&G’s is considered by specialists as the “best surviving reflection of the original.”
Erin R. Jones, Executive Director
Resources:
- Getty: www.getty.edu/art/collection/person/103JXC
- Julian Brooks’ lecture for the 2019 exhibition at the Frick, Andrea del Sarto: The Tailor’s Son and the Making of Masterpieces: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJSkeIJgdzw
- Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, and the Renaissance in Florence, edited by David Franklin
- Andrea del Sarto: The Renaissance Workshop in Action, Julian Brooks with Denise Allen and Xavier F. Salomon
Published 2023
