When I was in 5th grade, every student in my class had to write and deliver a speech on a foreign country.  I don’t remember if I chose Italy or if it was just assigned to me.  I don’t remember loving Italy when I lived on a farm in SD.  What I do remember about that speech is that I thought it was fun to organize information to give a talk (uh huh, research beckons in my adult life) and that it was so cool that Italy was shaped like a high boot.  That was the kind of information a kid could hang on to.  It became easy to recognize at least one country in that far away continent known as Europe.  I liked knowing that.

But everything changed for me by the time I was a junior in college.  I had not only discovered the field of art history, but I had discovered in particular the art of the International Gothic artist, the Italian painter, Simone Martini.  When Professor Jack Kunin put a slide of this altarpiece on the screen, I gasped.  I had absolutely never seen anything more beautiful in my life.  Little did I know it, but this painting would give a new focus to my life; that focus has stayed with me for the past 40 odd years.

The god’s honest truth is that my love for Italy began with Simone Martini’s altarpiece of The Annunciation. Here’s another overall view of this spectacular object.

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Just what is it about this painting that I love so very much?  I suppose the first thing is the use of the gold leaf.  All my life I have loved rich things that glitter.  This altarpiece most definitely glitters.

Above is a detail of the main section of the painting.  This is the part I love the most.  The altarpiece is known as The Annunciation, for it depicts the very moment when the Angel Gabriel comes to announce to the Virgin Mary that she will give birth to the Son of God.

In this detail of Mary, we can appreciate the fine level of artistry as Martini has captured not only Mary’s swaying body and her expression of dismay, but you can see the incredible detailed brushwork used to depict the fine golden trim on her sleeves and on the edges of her mantle.

Mary has been reading her psalter, and Martini shows us the book in her left hand, with her thumb marking the spot where she left off before she was so rudely interrupted.

A hallmark of the International Gothic genre is the use of long, attenuated bodies.  Notice how slender and elongated Mary’s hand and fingers are.  Gorgeous.  If you read my blog you know I love watching ballerinas dance and I love looking at their beautiful, elongated bodies.  I suppose that is why International Gothic paintings make me gasp in wonder as well.

In the detail above we see Gabriel, who holds an olive branch as a sign that he comes in Peace, has just flown in and stopped quickly in front of Mary.  We know that because the back edges of his drapery are still floating.  I’ll come back to that in a minute.

The vase sitting on the floor between the two figures holds stems of white lilies, which are a symbol of purity, thus perfect as an accoutrement in a painting of Mary.

According to beliefs about Mary and Gabriel, Mary of course was a virgin and remained that way through the conception, carrying, and birth of her Son. The same beliefs assert that the moment of conception was when the words Gabriel spoke reached Mary’s ears.  That is, according to Christian beliefs, the very moment she conceived.  Obviously Martini knew that and is stressing it.  Notice how he made the words Gabriel spoke to Mary stand up in three dimensional form.

Not only is Gabriel carrying an olive branch, but the same leaves have been used to form his crown.

Above is a detail of the Holy Ghost, surrounded by cherubim and seraphim in the heavens.  Many artists portrayed the Holy Ghost as a bird.

Another facet I love about this painting is that Martini depicted Gabriel dressed in a garment lined with Scottish plaid!  I mean, talk about International!  Love that detail.

But, it isn’t just the art I love about Italy.  Check out this landscape.  Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?

Or this cityscape of Venice.  Bellisima of what?

And a beautiful door way and a Fiat in Rome.  What is not to love about Italia?!!!!!

While most people know who Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael were, fewer are aware of Masaccio (1401-1428).  He is a major Renaissance master, who deserves to better known outside of the insiders of art history.

Many of his paintings are in Florence. Here is one of his masterworks, a fresco depicting the Trinity in the church of Santa Maria Novella.  Just about everything you need to know to be a cognoscenti of Italian Renaissance painting is captured in this one work.

Let’s start at the outside and work our way in.

1.  First of all, the architectural details that you see in the work are painted, not an actual part of the wall.  So, the architecture we see here, the half-columns with their Ionic capitals and the fluted pilasters with their Corinthian capitals, the architrave, the arch, and the coffered ceiling are all a part of Masaccio’s composition.  The lightness of this beautifully conceived architectural setting drew its inspiration from the actual architecture of another Italian master, Brunelleschi.  Brunelleschi’s masterworks are also to be found in Florence and Masaccio most certainly was a student of the architect.  Not literally his student, but figuratively. Masaccio has depicted what appears to be an actual chapel in a side wall of the nave of Santa Maria Novella.  He gives us a very convincing extension of virtual space.

2.  The ceiling alone, with its coffers that appear to recede into the background by becoming smaller, manifests a hallmark of Renaissance painting.  All previous painters (in the western world) had either ignored how actual vision operates, or attempted to show it but did so unconvincingly.  We are talking Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Gothic art.  But, in Florence, in the 15th century, painters started to study how vision operates and they, along with architects and sculptors of the period, began to codify it.

You can think of perspective in this easy way: picture the way two railroad tracks recede into space as you stand looking at them from head-on.  As the tracks move back into space, they appear to come together on the horizon.  Of course we know that they don’t, actually, come together, but that reveals how our vision operates.

That is how Masaccio’s ceiling works in this painting.  It isn’t an accident.  It is the result of study and awareness of other master’s works.  Here is a detail of the ceiling with an overlay of a system of orthogonals that reveal exactly how Masaccio’s geometric ceiling is composed.  All of the diagonal lines, or othogonals, if carried to the furthest point in space, would converge at a single point.  The system of space in Renaissance art is thus call one-point perspective.  Masaccio gives us a case-book example.  Thank you, M., for making this so clear for us!

3. In the lower register of the painting, one either side in front of the pilasters, kneel two figures dressed in red and blue; one is male, the other female. Do you know who they are?  Think of your reading of the Bible.  When you picture the Holy Trinity, who do you automatically assume will be involved?  God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Ghost, of course.

In addition to the two kneeling people, there are two figures standing below the crucifixion.  They are not surprising to find here: they are Mary, the mother of Jesus, and St. John the Evangelist.  I’ll come back to them as well.

So, the two kneeling figures are NOT a part of any passage in ANY Bible.  That is because they are actually portraits of two contemporaries in Florence, perhaps even the man who commissioned this painting for the church.  We assume they are the donor and his wife.

Think about the audacity of that!  If you were a wealthy patron of a local church in the town where you live, and you commissioned the most famous painter in your town for the most important church in your city to paint the Holy Trinity, would you specify that the painting needed to include a portrait of you and your partner?  I’m guessing you wouldn’t!

But in Florence in the quattrocento (the 15th century), this became an acceptable practice.  It has a lot to do with how the 15th century educated mind worked in Florence.  The term “renaissance” refers of course to “rebirth” and what that meant was that the cognoscenti in Florence and Rome and other places around Italy were obsessed with the rediscovery of classical Greek and Roman writings and artworks.  Wealthy men vied against other wealthy men to outbid each other in buying up coins, manuscripts, and other surviving objects from antiquity.  And they studied these objects they bought and began to notice, unlike their Gothic predecessors, that man was the center of the antique world, as opposed to some flight of fancy about a monotheistic god.

Another aspect of this audacious inclusion of the donor and his wife is that the Catholic church, during this period and especially in the not-so-distant future, promoted the expectation that we sinners on earth could “buy” our way out of Purgatory (which was believed to last several thousand years) for any sins of usury etc., by paying for good deeds.  When Julius II was Pope, just a few decades later, he wanted to completely renovate and rebuild St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome and, to finance it, he sold “indulgences” which meant if you had committed some sin, you could literally buy your way out.  You gave the Church money and the Pope granted you an indulgence, which was believed to be a sort of a golden ticket out of Purgatory and Hell.  Of course this was a huge abuse of the powers of the Papacy and this, along with other profane abuses, led to Martin Luther’s protests and in time brought the Reformation.  But all that is way beyond the scope of this post!

3. Throughout time, once Christianity blossomed, it was relatively rare to depict God the Father.  Artists always felt free to picture Christ, but it seemed and seems almost sacrilegious to depict the Father.  But certain Renaissance painters had no problem experimenting with their picture of Him.  Think of Michelangelo’s famous fresco of God Giving Life to Adam in the Sistine Chapel ceiling.  Masaccio, in the Trinity Fresco, likewise had no difficulty portraying his vision of how God would appear.

4. The specific depiction of The Crucifixion is a type known as Christus mortuus, meaning that the death of Jesus has already happened: we see Christ’s body as one that has endured pain but is now past suffering.  Lots of other artists reveled in the opportunity to portray Jesus in the agony and drama of passing into death, but Masaccio has chosen another moment.

Below the cross, stoic Mary does not look at her Son, but raises her hand to somberly recommend Him to us. Her counterpart, St. John the Evangelist, is lost in his own revery of the Crucifixion. He does not involve us in the drama either.  All of these aspects of the scene work together to diminish the terror of Calvary.  The kneeling, quiet Florentines outside the chapel pray to Mary and John to intercede and Christ atones for the sins of all humanity.

5. The Holy Ghost in the picture is represented by a bird-like figure flying between the heads of God and Jesus.  It is really hard to see in this reproduction.  You can do a Google search to find a better picture.

6. In the lower register of the composition, Masaccio painted this scene:

That’s right.  You are looking at a skeleton lying atop a grave. Above the skeleton are the these words “Io fu gia quel che voi siete e quel chio son voi anco sarete” (I was once what you are, and what I am, you also will be).  This is a cautionary tale given to us by Masaccio and presumably the donor of the painting.  Yes, the donor seems to state, I am dead.  But, be careful (be devout), for you will be like me sometime in the not too distant future.  In other words, the viewer is warned to be good, for death awaits us all.  Didactic or what?