Renaissance Reflections

So farewell to Florence. 

A 7am flight out of Pisa was perhaps a mistake!  My final blog from Italy might be a little long, serious, and not fully researched – but what can you expect on a coach at 4am in the morning?

I came to Florence because it is home to one of the great art galleries of Europe.  But what I found was a city utterly immersed in the Renaissance period it gave birth to.  In the Uffizi there is a small section, so isolated I missed it on my first three visits (Sophie found it from her wheelchair) labelled “non-Italian Art”.  Everything else is Italian and even then there is little of quality outside the late Gothic to Renaissance period (e.g. their Caravaggio collection, one of my favourite artists, is disappointing).

So what have I learnt of the Renaissance?  Well one impression is that it is a very contained period in both art and theology – following on from the post-Schism development of Western theology and more immediately the writings of Dante, we find a period of new thinking centred on Italy and combining Christian tradition, classical philosophy & sculpture and a confidence in humanist discovery.   

But eighty years after its beginnings the enigmatic figure of Savonarola emerged as a new leader (based in the monastery of San Marco in which Fran Angelic had produced such moving frescos).

Savonarola saw the Renaissance, like the Roman Empire before it, sinking into decadence.  So he initiated a new era of Christian morality, begun with a ‘bonfire of the vanities’ in place of the pre-Lent festivities of 1495.  While his efforts were successful for a while, the people eventually tired of this religious austerity and he was executed for heresy / martyred (depending on your point of view) in 1498.  While probably mad, Savonarola may have correctly recognised that Renaissance thought lacked direction.  In Germany in 1517 Martin Luther reached a similar conclusion.  But his solution was a ‘return’ to ‘sola scriptura’ (scripture alone).  In much the same way the Renaissance had ‘returned’ to ancient Greek texts, so Luther ‘returned’ to Christian scripture, without the filters of official Church teaching.  Both theology & art began to engage with these new ideas (both in the Reformation of Northern Europe and the Counter-Reformation of the South). 

And no-one painted Jesus holding goldfinches anymore...

 

Dante outside Santo Spirito (or as Cheryl & Abi christened him - the miserable man!)

 

 

Footnote:  My Italian adventure might be over but I will continue to post reflections and the fruit of my research over the next couple of weeks.  Appropriately my next stop is Liverpool (courtesy of the Diocesan Conference) and the Pre-Raphaelites.

Ave Maria

Yesterday I visited the church of San Frediano.  It is an unremarkable church by Florentine standards but Mass had just begun and sitting through the service (even though I understood very little) the whole building, frescos, altars and statues made sense in the context of worship.

Today I visited Santa Trinita and a 'service' of reciting the rosary took place while I was there.  These devotions are in keeping with the proliferation of images of Mary all over the city (at street corners, over doors & in house windows as well as churches) but did little for me and seemed to bear little relation to the very high quality paintings on the walls of the church

In part this is probably a deep seated prejudice of my Protestant upbringing.  Mary was largely seen as an obstacle rather than a means of access to a relationship with God.  But in art there is a (fairly) clear distinction between the quite simple images and statues of Marian devotion, such as this (rather fine) example from our visit to San Gimignano (a medieval town in the Tuscan hills):

and the much more complex paintings of the Renaissance such as this by Rosselli:

 

 

The paintings tend to make far greater use of symbolism, introduce other characters (Joseph and John the Baptist are logical, St Catherine or various patron saints less so) explore relationships between them and tell a whole complex story of salvation.

 

At the heart of this is relationships.  In exploring relationships between the characters, the paintings give testimony to God, in Jesus, being a god who relates to us.  The paintings are not really of Mary but rather of the nature of God. 

 

But just when I begin to feel the intellectual superiority of art-lover over faithful Catholic, I am reminded that most of these painters also produced statues, or panels with far simpler images of Mary & Jesus.  Take for example this terracotta by Buglioi:

 

 

  Perhaps these too are about relationships.  Perhaps those ladies saying their rosary in Santa Trinita know this very well, and praying to Mary brings them in to a relationship with God?  Perhaps I've still got much to learn.

How to paint Judas

Yesterday I visited the monastery of San Marco (now a museum), an oasis of peace and easily the most spiritually uplifting site in Florence.  It is where the artist Fra Angelico lived most of his life as one of the resident Dominican Friars.  Between 1438 and 1443 he painted frescoes on the walls including one for each of the 43 monks' cells on the first floor (the only decoration in a small vaulted room).  In the corridor he painted this masterpiece of the Annunciation (I might say more about this one later but for now just enjoy):

 

One of the subjects I am interested in exploring is well illustrated in San Marco.  If all your saints have halos, including the apostles, what do you do with Judas?

Fra Angelico had a simple approach - Judas could have a halo but it would be black:

No-one likes to be different, so when he was at the sermon on the mount he took a back seat and hoped no-one would notice:

And even at the Last Supper he tries to mingle with the others:
(this picture also gives you an idea what the monks' cells are like)

Forty years later the artist Ghirlandaio painted a Last Supper for the refectory downstairs.
By then artists were exploring perspective and halos became flat gold plates that might be painted upright, in the old style, or as an elipse, almost like hats hovering above the head.  Ghirlandaio uses both in this painting but Judas doesn't get one at all.  He's not even allowed to sit on the same side of the table as everyone else.  He just gets a yellow coat (symbolising his treachery) and a profile that bears more than a passing resemblance to an evil satyr from Greek mythology.

Elsewhere in this fantastic painting there are plenty of birds and a cat (sat next to Judas - I knew they were evil!).  We'll return to more of the symbolism here later.

Consider the birds....

Yesterday, after seeing the family off at Pisa airport, I headed into the city to see the Cathedral with its baptistery and famous bell tower,  It made me wonder about digging a bit under St Margaret's tower - a few degrees off centre and we too could have thousands of tourists a day!

Then I found the art gallery and was delighted to find no less than seven goldfinches in paintings of Christ, along with a chaffinch and one or two other yet to be identified small birds.  My 'best' find was in this painting of the Baptism of Christ by Vanni:

 

 



On the rock above the angels on the left (note the similarity to the Verrocchio/da Vinci composition in my previous post) a chaffinch sits watching events:

But you have to look really closely at the tree on the right to find that it hides a goldfinch!

If you were impressed by that (and I hope you were) then you might also be impressed by another find a few days ago.  Looking at a nativity scene (with guest appearances from St Julian & St Francis):

 

 I noticed a goldfinch sitting on the wall:

Then another one in the thatched roof:

Is this a pair of goldfinches nesting in the roof of the stable?

I began my sabbatical wanting to explore some of the 'forgotten' symbolism of Christian art and this developing goldfinch hunt seems a promising part of this.  Seven in Pisa, 10ish in Florence (I haven't been counting - that will wait till I'm home) I thought I was doing rather well.  Then I did a bit of research and found that an American ornithologist has already laid claim to being the world expert on Christian goldfinches (back in 1946).  He wrote a book cataloguing 486 examples he found in paintings by 254 artists, about half of them Italian.  Undaunted I have traced a copy to the Leeds University library - a job to do when I return.  Hopefully I have found one he missed, or at least I can bring his research up to date.  I know his list contains examples in St Petersburg, Moscow and Madrid so this is a story that will run throughout my sabbatical.

 

Dead End

It is a sad thought that just as artistic excellence blossomed in Florence in the C14th, it also seemed to drift away in the C18th.  By the C19th I have found little if anything of note being painted here and while it remains home to thousands of aspiring artists, the avant-garde of art has long since departed Florence.

This summer it is refreshing therefore to find that some graffiti artists are 'decorating' street signs around the city with amusing and yet sometimes reflective images.  One shows a stick man 'climbing out' of the white bar in a 'no entry' sign, while another appeared last week outside the Anglican Church showing a condom covering the same white bar (a reference to Anglicans' views on contraceptive being different to official Catholic teaching?).

But my favourite is a 'dead end' sign turned into a crucifix:

 



The image is powerful and the red cross piece reminds me of the red curtains used by the C15th Dutch artist van der Wayden to suggest the shedding of blood:

 

 

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the image is the idea of the crucifixion as a 'dead-end'.

So all my Christian friends will be pleased to know that the road in question, the Borgo la Noce (lit. translation "Village Walnut"!?) is not an absolute dead end.  Its just that half way down you need to abandon your car and proceed on foot to the restaurant (presumably for a heavenly banquet!).  I think you will find that in the resurrection Jesus is always walking (in the garden, to Emmaus... ) having left donkeys and all other forms of assisted transport behind (you really can't get to heaven in an old Ford car).

For those who are interested, a quick internet search reveals the artist to be a Frenchman called Clet Abraham who lives in Florence but has also produced works in Rome and London.

Gates of Paradise

*Sermon alert*  Today's blog sketches out the inspiration for my sermon today.  Those not wanting to be 'preached at' may prefer to skip this and wait for a more light-hearted topic tomorrow.

I was preaching in St Mark's this morning (this is what they wanted in exchange for my free flat).  A family from Pensacola had flown 5000 miles especially to have their baby girl baptised at the service, so at first sight the readings for Sunday (Jesus healing a crippled woman & Hebrews 12 ending with "indeed our God is a consuming fire") didn't look too promising

I was saved by Lorenzo Ghiberti, a Florentine artist who made some new doors for the city baptistery in 1425.  The first two sets of doors for this impressive building in the heart of the city had already been made with Gothic style images of the lives of John the Baptist & Jesus.

For this third set Ghiberti chose a series of Old Testament stories and cast the bronze reliefs in a new style with perspective, depth & realism which led many to see them as the first pieces of Renaissance art.  They were so beautiful, and such an inspiration for the artists of the age that Michaelangelo described them as "The Gates of Paradise"

Thankfully for me, these Old Testament images also correspond to the stories of faith cited in Hebrews 11.  To put them on the doors of a baptistery made the point of the letter to the Hebrews that only together with us (who have been baptised) do these heroes of old receive salvation.  Moreover their lives did not run smoothly and only by persevering with God, as Hebrews 12 urges us, did they prevail.

And so the letter to the Hebrews, looking back to God's people of old for lessons about God's future promise, the Renaissance, looking back to the wisdom of old in order to discover new promise and baptism, remembering God's work of old and receiving God's grace for the future all start to come together.  Even traveling to Florence to have your baby baptised begins to make sense and a sermon is born!

Thanks to Cheryl for the photo tonight.  Technical problems persist so her phone camera came to the rescue.  The panel illustrated tells the story of Moses :

 

The Baptistery itself is the white building on the left in front of the cathedral:

 

 

Jabba the Hut meets his match

It's been a busy day today with Cheryl, Abi, Sophie & Dom arriving. Met them in Pisa and had a meal there.  Before they arrived I managed to fit in a visit to San Lorenzo (the Medici's church).  Unfortunately I didn't get to the church office so the photos are trapped on my memory card for now.

So for today two photos from yesterday's visit to the Uffizi, especially for my Horsforth folk.  First a painting by Piero di Cosimo of St Margaret putting in an appearance at the feet of Mary, looking serene with her cross in hand

In the next room, another appearance of Margaret (this time by Hugo Van der Goes).  Again she holds her cross but this time there is a reference to its use as a deadly weapon when (as St Margaret's parishioners will know) she was swallowed by a dragon and escaped because the devilish creature couldn't stomach a cross.

So there at her feet is the poor defeated creature, looking for all the world like a C15th Jabba the Hut.  Though clearly Margaret, unlike Princess Leia, didn't need Luke Skywalker to rescue her - she had Jesus on her side!

Artist's Inspiration

Enough of birds (for the moment). Today I want to consider another overlooked detail in one of the Uffizi masterpieces.

Before I started my sabbatical I had a theory that one of Holman Hunt's Pre-Raphaelite paintings takes its inspiration from a Titian in the Louvre (more of that later if I manage to get to Paris).

Anyway I know Holman Hunt also has links with here at St Mark's, the church I am staying at in Florence.  He came here with his first wife in 1866 having been delayed on a trip to the Holy Land. While they were here their son Cecil was born but Fanny died in childbirth.  Holman Hunt had a chalice made for the church in memory of her with the stone from her engagement ring in the base  (I'm hoping to see it before I leave).

Four years after this tragedy Holman Hunt painted 'The Shadow of Death' with Mary rummaging through a chest containing the magi's gifts:

 

 

 



 

Could the inspiration for this figure come from this detail in a Titian he would have seen at the Uffizi?:





 

If so, its a detail often overlooked by those studying the whole painting - I can't imagine why?

The Dove's Revenge

Last night was one of those random evenings when the Uffizi is open late, but hardly anyone knows.  So I took the chance to scoot around at 9pm taking photos of the really famous paintings where crowds normally make photography difficult.  I'll have to go back later to spend more time with them.

Anyway one painting that particularly intrigued me was Verrochio's 'Baptism of Christ'

It is famous as the first identified work of Leonardo da Vinci.  He was a pupil of Verrochio and is believed to have painted the angel on the left and various other bits.

My dad used to endlessly tell the story of the 'apprentice's pillar' at Roslyn Chapel (once owned by a richer branch of the Sinclair family).  The story goes that while the master mason was away on holiday, his apprentice carved an incredibly ornate pillar.  On his return the master was so overcome with jealousy at the apprentice's skill that he murdered him.

Legend has it that Verrochio's more passive response to da Vinci's brilliance was that he put his brush down and never painted again.  On the other hand if you pay attention to Verrochio's angel - if looks could kill....

 

But what fascinated me most was another unusual bird appearance.  While every art critic I've ever come across concentrates on the da Vinci bits, no-one comments on the bird flying off into the trees top right.

 

Its clearly a sparrowhawk, which we might expect to see attacking a dove.  But here he's fleeing for his life, closely pursued by one of the divine shafts of light emanating from the Holy Spirit.  The dove it seems has turned the tables on the sparrowhawk, just as Jesus, through baptism, is turning the tables on sin.

I think I can see a book on birds in Christian art emerging from this Sabbatical??

 

 



Day 2: I’d rather be a goldfinch than a pigeon

This morning I spent my first two and a half hours in the Uffizi.  I managed six galleries mainly late Gothic before deciding to take a break and start the Renaissance on a separate visit.  I then tried to leave the gallery resisting the temptation to ‘pop-in’ to rooms containing the most famous paintings until I was thwarted by Raphael.  Due to some room closures they had relocated his Madonna of the Goldfinch (which is the background of this blog) to a corridor on the bottom floor and it was impossible to miss.

Medieval legend had it that the goldfinch obtained its red face from plucking the thorns out of Jesus’ head during the crucifixion.  It therefore sometimes appears in Madonna & Child paintings as a premonition style symbol of Jesus’ future (other symbols including a reed cross, an open gospel, a lamb or the way Mary holds Jesus have the same purpose).

Anyway, earlier I had begun to build a collection of other such uses of the goldfinch by artists.  This is an early example by one of Giotto’s pupils, Bernardo Daddi:

Another of Giotto’s pupils, Taddeo Gaddi, produced this:

You can almost hear Mary telling her young son “let it go!”

But I found an even more unusual bird detail in Lorenzetti’s ‘Presentation of Christ in the Temple’

Have you ever spared a thought for how the two pigeons felt about being chosen as the offering for the baby Jesus?  I thought not.  Fortunately for you, Lorenzetti did, and shared his thoughts in this image of them, right in front of the altar fire on which they are about to be sacrificed!  Who would have believed a pigeon could be painted displaying so much emotion?

 

 

Starting at the beginning

So here we go.  Three months of touring some of the great art galleries of Europe.  Resting, reflecting and learning.  What an opportunity!  And here it all begins.  Sitting in McDonalds in Florence - American fastfood in the home of European culture.  I'm not here for the food (I cooked my own pasta dish earlier) but because until access is sorted out at my flat its the only reliable wifi connection I could find. 

Santa Maria Novella is just across the road - looking spectacular in the floodlights though I'll have to wait till later in the week to see the Fra Angelicos inside.  I'm staying at St Mark's, the Anglican church in Florence where I'm taking the services (High Mass!) for the next two weeks.  Anyway this Sunday I'll feel more at home - they are giving me a 10mth old baby to baptise - flown in all the way from America especially.  I meet the family at 9am and baptise the child at 11am - preparation of a sort.

The church is in a building formally owned by Machiavelli, a perfect place to begin reflections on the Anglican church!

Today started at Leeds Bradford Airport at 7am, flew over my own church in early morning sunlight, then on to Pisa.  A coach journey to Florence, a walk across town in 34 degree heat and the rest of the day getting my bearings.

Anyway there's only so long you can make a McD's milkshake last and the cleaner has started work on the floor round me so I'd better go.  The intention was to post a picture or two every day or so but technical problems with my various devices mean today you will have to make do with a picture from the internet of today's highlight - The High Altar at the  Orsanmichelle - its enough to make you an Anglo-Catholic! (although to be honest I couldn't work out how you could possibly celecrate communion on it so perhaps not?)