Sacred Conversation
Bonifazio de’ Pitati, called Bonifazio Veronese
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Tag Archives: oil on canvas
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.
Esau and Jacob Presented to Isaac
Benjamin West, P.R.A.
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You can learn more about the entire series by West and M&G’s significant collection from the series HERE.
Christ and the Samaritan Woman
Bernardo Strozzi
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The Return from the Flight into Egypt
Oil on canvas, c. 1712
Giuseppe Bartolomeo Chiari
Roman, 1654-1727
Rome was for centuries the epicenter of culture, art, and religion. At the time of Giuseppe Chiari’s birth, it was also “the scene of a lively debate with a constantly varying interplay of influences, trends, fashions, specialized treatises, and, of course, great masterpieces” (Zuffi, p. 64). At the center of this debate were three artistic movements that Zuffi notes “succeeded one another in a sort of ideal relay race of artistic styles.” The stark naturalism of Caravaggio, the elegant classicism of Annibale Carracci, and the dramatic baroque sculptures and architecture of Gian Lorenzo Bernini would all play a part in making 17th-century Rome—well, Rome!
As president of the Roman Academy Carlo Maratta was keenly aware of these lively debates. Considered one of the most important painters in the latter half of the 17th century, he was much admired for his beautiful frescos and stunning portraits. Although his work evidenced a clear admiration for the classical tradition, several of his paintings also integrated elements of Caravaggio’s vigorous style. David Steel points out that Maratta often “managed to steer a middle course between these two dominant and often contrary trends of baroque painting” (Steel, p. 88).
Maratta was at the summit of his career in 1666 when 12-year-old Giuseppe Chiari entered the great master’s studio. Chiari soon became a star pupil. Over the years, his profound respect for Maratta’s tutelage would not only shape his artistic development but also ensure his future success in a highly competitive environment. When Maratta died in 1713, Chiari took up Maratta’s mantle and became the dominant Roman artist.
Like Maratta, Chiari broadened his appeal by becoming an astute observer and deft practitioner of integrating stylistic trends. Kathrine and William Wallace highlight this skill in their comparative analysis of Chiari’s Tedallini altarpiece with Caravaggio’s Madonna dei Pellegrini [figs. 1 and 2]:
“The statuesque pose of Chiari’s Madonna, the unusually high step on which she stands, the elongated form of the Christ child framed by a white swaddling cloth, and the overall right-triangular composition recall Caravaggio’s Madonna dei Pellegrini. Yet the suggestion is subtle: Chiari has reversed the composition, naturalized the pose of the Virgin, and substituted the more palatable, well-dressed saints for the dirty feet and common character of Caravaggio’s pilgrims. Although inspired by Caravaggio, Chiari’s altarpiece remains distinctly his own. Chiari’s Madonna looks like a person of warm flesh and blood rather than the marmoreal statue of Caravaggio’s Madonna; Christ is an attractive child of sweet disposition as opposed to the enormous and ungainly figure depicted by the older master. Instead of the muted and earthy colors of the Madonna dei Pellegrini, Chiari’s bright hues are immediately pleasing and a welcome contrast to the comparatively dark paintings found on so many Roman altars” (p. 4).
The Return from the Flight into Egypt provides another example of Chiari’s virtuosity and unique style. Here, however, he turns from echoing the past to adumbrating the future. The refined handling of the paint and elegant figural poses pay homage to the classical tradition; however, the playfulness, delicate coloration, and ornamental enrichment mark the transition into the sensuous, intimate style of the rococo movement which emerged in France and spread throughout Europe in the 18th century (Chilvers, 507).
M&G has two works by Chiari on this subject, one titled The Rest on the Flight into Egypt and this rendering titled The Return from the Flight into Egypt. Over the years scholars have found the less traditional title of this 1712 work problematic. However, “the light-hearted, almost celebratory mood” (echoed in the Rococo style) reinforce the idea that here, Chiari intends to highlight the family’s return from rather than flight into Egypt. Regardless of the debate, art experts like Christopher Johns note that this picture may be the best example of Chiari’s work in America.
Donnalynn Hess, M&G Director of Education
Resources:
Baroque Paintings from the Bob Jones University Collection by David H. Steel
Concise Dictionary of Art and Artists, 3rd edition by Ian Chilvers
“Giuseppe Bartolomeo Chiari,” The Art Bulletin, March, 1968, Vol. 50, No. 1 by Bernhard Kerber and Franciscono Renate
“Seeing Chiari Clearly,” Artibus Et Historiae, 2012, Vol. 33, No. 66 by Katherine M. Wallace and William Wallace
Published 2024
The Visitation
Oil on canvas, signed and dated lower left: L. Boulogne le J.f. 1688
Louis de Boullogne, the Younger
French, 1654-1733
Louis de Boullogne, the Younger is a second-generation French painter who with his brother studied at the French Academy and also in Rome. Unlike most other students, however, Boullogne later taught at the Paris Academy and then became its director. He went on to become First Painter to King Louis XIV. His work is known throughout France, especially at Versailles.
When one encounters a work of art, one often has a visceral reaction to some aspect of the work. No doubt the vibrant colors in The Visitation by Louis de Boullogne are a lovely invitation into an appreciation of the painting. In the mid-1800s, Charles George, the Commissaire-Expert of the Louvre, complimented the choice of color and even the “fresh and graceful” brushstrokes. But to really understand a work, one must know the subject matter; after all, the work is but a vehicle for the meaning.
The title refers to the visit of the Virgin Mary to her cousin Elizabeth shortly after Gabriel announced that God had chosen Mary to bear the Messiah (Luke 1). Elizabeth herself had also been the recipient of God’s grace. Mirroring Sarah and Abraham, Elizabeth and Zechariah (also Zacharias) were old and childless. But God sent Gabriel to meet Zechariah with a message of miraculous birth three months before the angel appeared to Mary.
To visit the one who can best sympathize with her situation, Mary travels nearly one hundred miles “in haste,” needing encouragement, for the public ordeal that will doubtless come from her pregnancy. Nazareth was a small town, and “bad” news always travels fast. As Mary greets Elizabeth, now openly six-months pregnant, the baby (John as he will be called) leaps “in her womb for joy.” This first meeting of the cousins—John the Baptist, the Way-Preparer and Christ the Messiah—foreshadows the joy of their partnership in turning the hearts of Israel toward God.
Both mothers have crucial roles to play in the redemption story. Though Elizabeth is the elder and Mary the visitor, Boullogne places the characters on the same step of the house. Their mirrored poses—clasped right hands and left hands placed on one another’s shoulders—show their equality as well. Both mothers are handmaidens of the Lord, being the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecies. This certainty of God’s hand upon them gives both women the strength they need to endure the whispers and stares of their community.
Elizabeth’s response to Mary’s unrecorded greeting, wondering that “the mother of my Lord” would come to visit her and blessing Mary and the “fruit of her womb” prompts Mary’s own praise of “God [her] Savior.” Both Mary and Elizabeth know their place in the redemption story—recipients of the Messiah’s saving work.
Possibly influenced by the school of Carlo Maratta, Boullogne chose colors and brushstrokes to make this a winsome and charming portrayal of two godly women. Zechariah as the elder forerunner is thus placed superior to Christ on the steps, yet his son John’s fame and ministry will decrease as the Messiah Himself rises in prominence. Joseph’s presence is not noted in the biblical text, which is an appropriate omission for this first-recorded recognition of the Son of God by those He came to save.
Dr. Karen Rowe Jones, M&G board member
Published 2024
In 1780 King George III commissioned Benjamin West to create a series of paintings for his new Chapel at Windsor Castle. It’s estimated that he completed 18 of the proposed 35 paintings planned for the chapel, and M&G has the largest set of existing works from the series. To learn more click 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
This intriguing 18th-century painting provides a valuable reminder for all of us to consider our choices in light of a coming eternity.
