Deep inside Federigo di Montefeltro’s palace, in that extraordinarily condensed, triangular, liminal world created by turning away from the rectilinear Renaissance calm, for its balconies to face the road to Rome, lie all the secrets of that duke’s cosmos.
The studiolo, the double chapels to the muses and to god, these are well known. But that which might hold the best key to this amazing late 15th century world, is a pair of doors of beautifully made intarsia, every panel as slightly different as phases of the moon, and each constructed with the most precise and intentional geometry – this is no mere decoration.
Today, while all admire the brilliant perspective projections and the technical mastery of inlaid wood, images of instruments (Francesco di Giorgio?) or squirrels (Botticelli?), these doors are virtually invisible and, as far as I could see last week, without any caption.
Their ‘pictorial’ side – with caged birds and a chiming clock (above left) – is displayed, but the enigmatic, coded side which might help unlock that world for us, is barely visible and only by squeezing a camera round and photographing them in a mirror.
35 years ago, when we could touch such things, I remember an ILAUD student being able to make precise measured drawings and then enthral us with his arcane geometrical attempt to unravel their secrets.
29 September 2017
My general talk on Piero della Francesca finally went off this week, and the compliments were encouraging. Encouraging to have another go. And maybe, actually spend a complete, unrushed, fifty minutes pondering the Piero gaze – simply through these three extraordinary fragments:
The youths seeing each other directly, recognising their desire as if for the first time and its fragility – they are, after all in the presence of the first death; Adam’s dead body lies on the ground by them. Hands are held gently as a huge potential opens up. The pregnant moment.
The pregnant teenager, her gaze inwards, seeing herself and her offspring as if for the first time, as he moves under her hand. Her fate overcomes any terror – she is, after all, a virgin; she is not resigned but rather recognising the huge potential which awaits.
The bleary-eyed figure, on the cold Easter dawn, gazing directly out, at me but through me and at everything. His appearing, his appearance is as astonished as it is astonishing. It is the moment of recognition, when the sting of that first death is totally transformed by belief. In this gaze too, the world will not be the same again.
This post – just as we are leaving Italy for a winter in England – simply locates two or three things which, during the recent Cognoscenti tour to the world of Piero della Francesca, I promised to make available to those on that tour.
The first is the David A King’s fascinating and completely original take on The Flagellation. I mentioned his ideas only very briefly as we stood in front of this amazing painting a few weeks ago. Click here and you will be introduced to his thesis about Bessarion (to whom I did introduce the group) and his astrolabe, linked mysteriously with the Piero painting. The best introduction is the slideshow of his lecture in Urbino, well worth a glance (click on his “silent lecture” click here, once you are on his page to download it as a pdf).
The second is a short essay I wrote 25 years ago about Urbino. It’s a very brief introduction, but while on the tour, one of the travellers who had read it (as we had circulated it to the Renaissance City tour in 2915), suggested more of you might be interested, now you have had a taster of that remarkable city. Here it is: my-kind-of-town_jmck.
Just back from the Piero tour – shocked as ever at just how small and yet utterly vast is this picture; and how impossible it is to see all or even most of what it contains, even with ten or more quiet minutes and no interruptions from tour groups. With bright spotlights reflecting off its protective glass, it is also almost impossible to photograph; but at least one get up really close, which reveals so much.
My details of the urban perspective (a and b) are much closer to the actual sense and colour than the published ones (c and d).
27 September 2017
I worry about the ideas of “influence” and “icon” which so pervade popular art history today. Two new exhibitions, one built around Piero della Francesca and the other around Giorgione, bring these issues directly into the open. And on two very different Cognoscenti tours this year we will try to cut through to the actual world of these great artists – we will be visiting the countryside of both, indeed visiting the birthplace of both, and we will see masterpieces in the setting for which they were painted.
Art history exists to offer us lenses through which to view the world of great paintings or sculptures. We may see more clearly through these lenses, but they will always to some extent be distorting, and they can change focus with seemingly arbitrarily changing fashion.
I believe art historians are most useful when they help explain the formation of a work and the world wherein it could be made, with the varied actors and the tools available to them – from beliefs and symbolic gestures to pigments and hammers. But art historians have most influence on our experience, rather differently, in what they choose to focus on, what they neglect, and what they group together.
The intriguing exhibition ‘Piero della Francesca: Exploring a Legend’ which has now opened near Bologna, shows just that. And it raises again the two worries I have – around “icon” and “influence.” ‘The Age of Giorgione,’ at The Royal Academy in London shows a rather different approach to similar curatorial issues.
“Icon” makes me shiver particularly, as a large book I wrote on Charles Rennie Mackintosh many years ago had the word “icon” in its title, against my wishes but with a publisher convinced the word brought sales. Piero della Francesca attracts such superlatives and perhaps visitors to this exhibition, though the word is equally meaningless – since “legend” he surely is not.
His remaining works, particularly moveable ones, are few; and here parallels begin to appear with the slightly later Veneto painter, Giorgione. Both are called enigmatic, both left work whose subject matter is far from simply explicable. “The Enigma of Piero” (by Carlo Ginsburg) I referred to in this post); “The Enigma of Giorgione” (by Ali Smith) is referred to (Cognoscenti post 68) and can be read in full (in The Guardian archive).
“Excessive iconomania has been one of the banes of art history for the last two decades,” lamented a critic years ago, when reviewing Marilyn Aronberg Lavin’s book about Piero’s Flagellation (its cover seen above).
“Influence” worries me rather differently; it can tend to diminish artists, focusing on what they took from, rather than how they built on others, and it can also privilege the art historian’s skill over our focus on the actual works.
With each of these shows there is only a handful of works by the “icon,” the painter who appears in large bold lettering on the posters. So how do they build into a satisfactory exhibition? The Piero show has over 150 works, but just three by Piero, two being his (minor) saints shown above. There are ‘contemporary’ works from Giovanni Bellini and Antonello, Veneziano and Beato Angelico. There is, for example, the bust seen below of Battista Sforza, she who was painted by Piero as in my post (Cognoscenti 115). In this exhibition there are lots of copies of Pieros, mainly of the Arezzo fresco cycle. But the main sense of “influence” is in the inclusion of Seurat and Degas, Carra and Morandi, even Balthus, Duncan Grant and Hopper. Unexpected juxtapositions are often fascinating, but this show must appear strange to a devotee of Hopper; or indeed of Piero.
One of our American travellers to The World of Piero in September has kindly pointed out a long and interesting review in The Wall Street Journal this week.
The Royal Academy, on the other hand, sticks entirely in the age of Giorgione, the shortly-lived painter of whom so little is known. And it offers wonderful pictures whose attribution has swilled around, keeping the historians in business, but whose actual qualities never change. Does it matter whether the young nobleman above is by the hand of Giorgione or of Titian?
Finally a word on two amazing altarpieces. The extraordinary, original composition (above centre) is one of very few works verifiably by Giorgione. It is not in the exhibition – but it will be visited by our Cognoscenti Terraferma tour in June, in Giorgione’s home town of Castelfranco. The highlight of the ‘Piero Legend’ exhibition – indeed the only ‘Piero’ reason to visit – is his magnificent, unique Madonna della Misericordia (below). This also will be visited by our Piero tour in September, for by then we are promised it will be back in Piero’s home town of Borgo Sansepolcro, whither it returns to become once more the central panel of a great polyptych.
(And surely the penitent on the extreme left is also the donor with S Girolamo on the far right in the first image of this post, kneeling in front of his city of Sansepolcro.)
24 March 2016
Travellers joining us to visit the world of Piero della Francesca in September have been asking if we might recommend reading. Where do you start? One recent book, which I do recommend here to the serious enquirer, has itself a “select bibliography” which runs to 14 pages! Well here are a few, very varied, personal encounters you may choose to follow up. (The city pictured by Piero above is his hometown, Borgo Sansepolcro, which we will be visiting.)
There are picture books and introductory guide-books to the paintings, there are general biographies, and then there are original and particular explorations (like the little Piero and His City by Luigi Andreini).
Pictorial guides are perhaps best found at the locations, their reproductions reminding us of what we’ve been looking at. The lower book on the left, however, is not. It is a heavy, majestic volume which might threaten a lightweight coffee table and certainly your baggage allowance. It is the fully explained and wonderfully photographed record of Piero della Francesca: The Legend of the True Cross in the Church of San Francesco in Arezzo. Written by top experts including the superintendent of their restoration (Carlo Bertelli and Anna Maria Maetzke), published by Skira Editore in 2001, its 278 hardback pages are in print at around £40. A beautiful book back home, to remind you of what you saw in this one building in Arezzo, and be the envy of your friends who leaf through it on your coffee table.
For the proper, rounded life-and-work, an expert account by Marilyn Aronberg-Lavin, Piero della Francesca (Phaidon, 2002, paperback around £18) follows the well-known book by Kenneth Clark – same publisher, same simple title, 65 years earlier but still accessible. However two other new books are very interesting. James Banker’s Piero della Francesca: Artist and Man, (Oxford UP, 2014 about £20 hardback) and Larry Witham’s Piero’s Light: In Search of Piero Della Francesca: A Renaissance Painter and the Revolution in Art, Science, and Religion (Pegasus, 2015 paperback at around £11). Both of these books locate Piero, rather differently but very well, in his cultural context. Banker is a serious Piero scholar. Witham’s attempts to see Piero himself as scholar as much as painter and to draw lines of inspiration through subsequent centuries up to modern neuro-science I find less convincing.
Then there are the odd treats for those who like a bit more, and each of these, unlike the above, fits in the pocket.
John Pope-Henessy’s lectures, The Piero della Francesca Trail (Thames & Hudson, 1991), interesting not least for its contrarian view on the Flagellation in Urbino. It is not too easy to find, but it has been reprinted with the Aldous Huxley Piero essay “The Best Picture” (Little Bookroom, New York, 2005). Hubert Damisch’s A Childhood Memory by Piero della Francesca (Stanford University Press, 2007) is a post-modern echo of Freud on Leonardo, and a read not undertaken lightly. Keith Christiansen’s little Personal Encounters is a Metropolitan Museum of Art catalogue (NY, 2014, c.£13) and very particular. The picture on his cover (seen at the start of this post, S. Girolamo and a donor) and a very early Madonna and child are subjects of two of his four nice brief essays. Both these (small, minor) paintings are currently exhibited in a show in Italy which I discuss elsewhere, and one of the essays is published by that exhibition online.
The great Carlo Ginzburg‘s Enigma of Piero (Verso, 2002, in print paperback c. £18) is personal, provocative and brilliant sleuthing. (I have my own thoughts on ‘enigmas’ here.) Much more simply, Luigi Andreini brings his subject home in Piero and His City; it is slight but of real local interest and, I think, only available in Sansepolcro itself (introduced by James Banker and translated by Maureen Banker).
Finally, to put our understanding of Piero in a greater context, a book which, a generation ago, revisioned how we looked at such things is Michael Baxandall’s classic Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy: A Primer in the Social History of Pictorial Style, (Oxford UP , paperback 1988, today around £8), and a fine more contemporary context is painted by Evelyn Welch’s Art in Renaissance Italy 1350-1500, (Oxford UP, paperback, 2000 £16 and not to be confused with John T. Paoletti’s oft reprinted book of the same title).
But hang on, this isn’t a course to be tested – it’s a holiday, and there’s certainly no need to do homework. The tales of the different works will be discussed when we get there, but most importantly they will all come alive in our experiencing them, in the places where Piero himself lived and worked, and still today a world away from the mass throngs of tourists.
Oh, and then, of course, there’s the imagination of novelists and filmmakers – you remember Juliette Binoche swinging on a rope from the Arezzo rafters in The English Patient? This rather different story is found here!
8 March 2016, slightly updated 1 August 2016.
All too short a date – speedo or bungee Piero?
“The villa will appeal in particular to devotees of Italian painting. It makes a perfect centre for the study of the Sienese school. More importantly, perhaps, the work of Piero della Francesca can be followed from the frescos in Arezzo to the pregnant Madonna in the small chapel at Monterchi. Enthusiasts can take the trail to Sansepolcro and on, across the Mountains of the Moon, to see the sublime ‘Flagellation’ in the Ducal Palace at Urbino, undoubtedly the greatest small picture in the world. Those making this journey should ensure that the stopcock is closed and all electrical appliances switched off before departure. The pleasures of art tend to be diminished by returning to a complete absence of hot bath water.”
Well, this was the note awaiting John Mortimer’s visitors at the Tuscan villa whence, in Summer’s Lease, they embark on “The Piero Trail,”ending at ‘the sublime Flagellation’ – with its romance, its coded meanings and its mystery (as intimated in the other cover pictured here).
All on one day, they ‘do’ Piero, from Arezzo to Monterchi, and Sansepolcro to Urbino. Mortimer’s three tourists leaving their rented holiday villa after an early breakfast to ‘do the Resurrection before lunch.’ They make a perfunctory stop at Arezzo, glance at the vast and wondrous frescoes in San Francesco, and ‘not ten o’clock yet, and we’ve done Arezzo,’ says one. ‘It won’t take us long to knock off the pregnant Madonna.’ And knock it off they do at Monterchi; they pop in to nearby Sansepolcro for the Resurrection, where ‘you can see what all the fuss was about.’ Then, after a hasty lunch they continue to Urbino and the Flagellation, which was the picture they had particularly wanted to catch.
John Mortimer, in his charming book, enjoys this gentle satire on the “Piero Tourists.” Their tour, however, could not be more different from ours. We will guide you at leisure and with space to breathe in the wonders. We will assume you have no wish to have “done Arezzo and it’s not yet ten’oclock, ” and that your enthusiasm is even the equal of Juliette Binoche’s.In the film The English Patient (following hints in Michael Ondaatje’s fine novel), the nurse, during World War Two, marvels at this amazing chapel in San Francesco. Sandbags are piled high, very little daylight penetrates.
And the Sikh sapper helps her fly. No, today you can’t light flares, nor will you dangle from the roof beams. But today the frescoes are recently gloriously restored, they are beautifully lit and we gaze in wonder at our leisure.
For the English patient’s nurse, as for Mortimer’s tourists, their Piero summer’s lease certainly had all too short a date. Join us in September in the world of Piero della Francesca, and feel the time expanding.