Raphael’s Transfiguration of Christ

When Raphael was commissioned to paint the Transfiguration of Christ in 1515, the feast commemorating this event in the Lord’s life was still a new one in much of Western Europe. Although it had been kept in some places much earlier, it was given to the universal Church only in the reign of Pope Callixtus III (1455-58), in thanksgiving for the Christian victory against the Turks at the siege of Belgrade on August 6th, 1456. Coming only three years after the fall of Constantinople, this victory signaled an important halt to the Turkish invasion of Europe; in fact, the common custom of ringing church bells at noon began as a reminder to pray for the defense of this bulwark of Christendom.

In the Byzantine tradition, on the other hand, the feast is much older, and one of the Twelve Great Feasts commemorating the principal events of the life of Our Lord and His Mother. It is kept forty days before another of the Great Feasts, the Exaltation of the Cross, a custom based on the teaching of the Church Fathers that the purpose of the Transfiguration was to strengthen the faith of the Apostles in preparation for the Our Lord’s Passion. Long before the adoption of the feast in the West, this aspect of the tradition was also known to the Roman Rite, which reads St. Matthew’s account of the Transfiguration on both the Ember Saturday of Lent and the following Sunday.

The Transfiguration, in the apse mosaic of the monastery church of St. Catherine on Mt Sinai, ca. 565.

The painting was commissioned by Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici, the cousin of Pope Leo X, who had just been made archbishop of the French city of Narbonne. In accordance with a common abuse of the era, the cardinal had no intention of taking possession of the see to govern it personally, being as he was also the chancellor of the church in Rome; instead, he would have paid a vicar to fulfill the duties of bishop, while drawing the revenues of the see. (In the 10 years between his cousin’s election as Pope in 1513 and his own election as Clement VII, Giulio de’ Medici held ten different sees under various titles, five of them before his priestly ordination.)

Within a few decades, this abuse was completely extirpated by the Council of Trent and the Counter-Reformation; one must not imagine, however, that all the beneficiaries of it were entirely neglectful of their sees and abbeys. Cardinal de’ Medici commissioned the painting for the high altar of Narbonne’s cathedral, and would certainly have paid the artist a handsome sum for it. In the reign of a Pope whose family had been leading patrons of the Renaissance for generations, in a city filled with every kind of artist, Raphael stood head and shoulders above all of his contemporaries. His only equal in prominence, Michelangelo, had left Rome in 1513 shortly after the election of Pope Leo; in 1516, Raphael was made superintendent of Pontifical works, a job in which he could command his own prices, choosing for himself a few outstanding commissions, and leaving the rest in the hands of an army of assistants and apprentices.

The cathedral of Narbonne, dedicated to Ss Justus and Pastor. Their feast day is August 6th, the same as that of the Transfiguration, which was kept on the following day in the city itself; Raphael’s painting shows the two on the upper left side as witnesses of the Lord’s Transfiguration.

As I have noted before, in an age in which imitation was considered the very essence of art, which is to say, the imitation of the classical past, no-one had a keener eye for seeing what was good about the styles of other artists, taking it into his own, and improving upon it. In this painting, the last work of Raphael, one sees not merely the mastery of technique, but the perfect union at every point of technique to story. While certainly concerned to demonstrate his skill and versatility, especially in light of Michelangelo’s very recent triumph in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, each technical feature of the painting serves to communicate the Biblical story and theological idea behind it.

In Lent and on the feast in August, the Roman Rite reads the story of the Transfiguration from chapter 17 of St Matthew. However, in the upper part of the painting, Raphael has taken account also the words of St Luke that “the appearance of (Christ’s) countenance was altered,” (chap. 9, 29), as it will also be after the Resurrection. (Mark 16, 12 and Luke 24, 16.) The Lord’s face is painted in a style very similar to that of one of Raphael’s early teachers, Perugino, a style greatly admired in the later 15th and early 16th centuries, and considered a kind of idealized facial type. Thus, as Christ reveals himself to be the perfect man, the man who is also God, he is represented with a “perfect” face. The rest of the figures are painted in a variety of styles, with a much more realistic range of facial types, reminiscent of various predecessors and contemporaries of Raphael, a great demonstration of his extraordinary versatility.

Christ in the Transfiguration of Raphael.

The upper part of the Oddi altarpiece, which Raphael painted 15 years earlier. Note the similarity in the faces, all of which are reminiscent of the idealized facial type typical of Perugino.

The painting is also marked by three different major lighting schemes. In the upper part, the light of the transfigured Christ shines onto the clouds behind him, and back at us, while also illuminating the figures around Him, the Prophets Moses and Elijah, and the Apostles Peter, James and John. Through them, the divinity of Christ is revealed to us; thus the light of His divinity coming out at the viewer is not merely a special effect for its own sake, but helps to convey the meaning of the Biblical narrative. The lower part represents the next episode in the Synoptic Gospels, the healing of a possessed child. The very ancient date of the Exaltation of the Cross determines not only the day of the Transfiguration, but also that of the Ember Wednesday of September, always the Wednesday after it, on which the Church reads this episode in the words of St Mark.

And one of the multitude, answering, said: Master, I have brought my son to thee, having a dumb spirit. Who, wheresoever he taketh him, dasheth him, and he foameth, and gnasheth with the teeth, and pineth away; and I spoke to thy disciples to cast him out, and they could not. … And He asked his father: How long time is it since this hath happened unto him? But he said: From his infancy: And oftentimes hath he cast him into the fire and into waters to destroy him. But if thou canst do anything, help us, having compassion on us. And Jesus saith to him: If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. And immediately the father of the boy crying out, with tears said: I do believe, Lord: help my unbelief. And when Jesus saw the multitude running together, he threatened the unclean spirit, saying to him: Deaf and dumb spirit, I command thee, go out of him; and enter not any more into him. And crying out, and greatly tearing him, he went out of him, and he became as dead, so that many said: He is dead. But Jesus taking him by the hand, lifted him up; and he arose. (Mark 9, 16-17 and 20-26)

The light enters the scene from the left and above, brightly illuminating the figures on the right, but leaving those on the left wrapped up in a mysterious dark mist. The former lighting scheme is based on the style of portraits done by Florentines, the latter scheme is that of the Venetians, another demonstration of the artist’s mastery of a variety of styles.

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A Legend of St Helena, the Discoverer of the True Cross

The Basilica of the Holy Cross, the main church of the Franciscan Order in Florence, was founded on May 3rd, the feast of the Finding of the Cross, in 1294. Last September, on the Exaltation of the Cross, I posted pictures of the frescoes which the painter Agnolo Gaddi added to the main choir around the year 1385, a cycle that depicts the Legend of the True Cross. The Franciscans were extremely important patrons of the arts in that era, and the basilica is so rich in artworks that it would take several posts to list and describe them all. Here are some pictures from one of the side-chapels, which I am posting today because they are marginally connected to the story of the Finding of the Cross.

The Bardi di Vernio chapel, located in the left transept, is dedicated to Pope St Sylvester I, and was decorated with stories of his life around the year 1335 by Maso di Banco; very little is known about this painter, but he is generally regarded as one of the most talented of Giotto’s followers. (“Maso” was a common Tuscan nickname for “Tommaso.”) This fresco, which is obviously very damaged, depicts the story that the Emperor Constantine, still a pagan and a persecutor of the Church (which he never was in reality) had leprosy, and had been advised by his doctors to bath in the blood of infants to cure it. Many Romans did believe in this kind of sympathetic magic, and while this particular story is certainly a later legend, it is by no means wholly implausible on this point. In this version, which was also read in the Roman Breviary before the Tridentine reform, Constantine was so moved by the weeping of the infants’ mothers that he refusing to commit this terrible crime. One of the great innovations of Giotto’s painting was the use of facial expressions to tell his story, which we see here imitated by Maso in the group of mothers on the right.

The Apostles Peter and Paul appear to Constantine in a dream, and tell him to seek out the Pope, St Sylvester, who is hiding from the persecution on Mt Soracte to the north of Rome, and that the Pope will cure him of his leprosy.

On the left side, Constantine meets Pope Sylvester, who shows him an image of the two Apostles; since he recognizes them as the men who had appeared to him in his dream, he agrees to be baptized, at which his leprosy is indeed cured. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The story that follows (which in the chapel is directly beneath the previous one) is the part of the legend that connects with the Finding of the Cross. Constantine’s mother, the dowager Empress Helena, holds a debate to determine which of the two monotheistic religions, Christianity, represented by the Pope and his cardinals (on the left), or Judaism, represented by a group of rabbis (on the right), is true. When the rabbis have been bested by the Pope at every point in the debate (which is recounted at wearisome length in The Golden Legend), one of them decides to prove the truth of Judaism by whispering what he claims to be the Divine Name into the ear of a ferocious bull, which immediately dies. However, Sylvester then whispers into its ear “O name of cursing and death, go out by the command of the Lord Jesus Christ, in Whose name I say to thee: o bull, arise, and return in all mildness to thy flock.” The bull immediately comes back to life and walks away. Helena and all those present, including the rabbis, become Christians; she then goes on her great expedition to the Holy Land, where she discovers the site of Mt Calvary and the relics of the True Cross. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

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The Oldest Depiction of the Life of St Catherine of Siena

St Catherine of Siena died on April 29, 1380, the feast of St Peter Martyr, who at the time was one of only three canonized Dominicans, alongside Ss Dominic and Thomas Aquinas. After St Vincent Ferrer, Catherine herself would become the fifth in 1461, canonized by a former bishop of her native city, Pope Pius II. Her feast was therefore originally assigned to May 2nd, and only later then brought back to today. In the post-Conciliar rite, with the suppression of Peter Martyr’s feast (easily one of its most foolish mistakes), she was moved yet again, to the day of her death.

The first known cycle of images of episodes from Catherine’s life, a series of ten panels, was painted by a Sienese artist called Giovanni di Paolo (1403 ca. – 1482); the altarpiece to which they originally belonged was later dismembered, and they now are in several different museums. There is some disagreement among art historians as to the original nature of the commission. Some hold that the panels were made as the predella of an altarpiece of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple (shown below), commissioned in 1449 by a guild called the Pizzicaiuoli, for their chapel in the great pilgrim hospice that stands in front of the cathedral of Siena, Santa Maria della Scala.

However, St Catherine is shown with a halo in all the panels, 11 years before her beatification. It is perfectly possible that this was done in anticipation of her inevitable canonization, but many scholars hold that the predella was only added to the Pizzicaiuoli altar after that event, while others believe that they were never part of it at all, and originally surrounded an image of Catherine which has since been lost. The episodes are all taken from the biography of her written by her confessor, Bl. Raymond of Capua, also a Dominican. The original placement of the panels seems also to be a matter of dispute, and I do not shown them here in any particular order.

St Catherine receives the Dominican habit from Ss Augustine (the bishop in the middle), Dominic and Francis. The first appears between the two mendicant founders as a sign of the Church’s authority approving the way of life which they established, since his Rule was used by many of the new non-monastic religious communities that emerged in the 12th and 13th centuries, including the Dominicans.

St Catherine receiving Communion from Christ Himself, who has brought the Host to her from the Mass which Bl. Raymond is celebrating behind her.

The mystical marriage between Catherine and Christ, who is placing a ring on her finger as the Virgin Mary and many other Saints look on. (Something similar is attributed to her namesake of Alexandria.) 

Catherine offers her heart to Christ, in the midst of a mystical vision, indicated by the fact that she is floating on a cloud.

St Catherine gives her cloak to a beggar, who, of course, turns out to the Lord; He then appears to her and gives the cloak back to her.

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The Oratory of Ss Cecilia and Valerian in Bologna

Since at least the last decades of 8th century, April 14 has been kept in the Roman Rite as the feast of three martyrs named Tiburtius, Valerian and Maximus. Valerian is said to have been the fiancé of St Cecilia, converted by her, after which he in turn converted his brother Tiburtius; Maximus was a soldier, one of several who witnessed the other two first beaten and then beheaded for the Faith, and was himself rewarded the crown of martyrdom after converting. Their legend has long been known to be historically unreliable; in a Roman breviary printed in 1529, their office has three fairly lengthy hagiographical lessons, excerpted in part from the legend of St Cecilia, but in St Pius V’s edition, these are reduced to two very short ones.

In the heart of Bologna, less than half a mile from the cathedral, stands a small oratory dedicated to Cecilia and Valerian, commissioned for the use of a confraternity by the city’s de facto ruler, a nobleman called Giovanni Bentivoglio. Beginning in 1505, a group of several painters who worked in his court were commissioned to fresco the walls with pictures of the main stories of the martyrs’ legend. (The series was completed within a year, just in time for an army led by Pope Julius II to invade Bologna and drive the Bentivoglios out of it; Giovanni died in Milan two years later as a prisoner of the French king.) The frescos, which are in a fairly good state of preservation, show the strong influence of the school of Perugino, from which emerged the most important painter of that period, Raphael. Some of the attributions given below are not very certain.

The Betrothal of Cecilia and Vaerian, by Francesco Raibolini, (generally known and Francesco Francia, or just “il Francia” in Italian.) 

According to the story, on their wedding night, Cecilia informs Valerian that she is a Christian, and has vowed to God to remain a virgin, and furthermore, that she is protected by an angel who will defend her if necessary. This inspires Valerian to inquire from her about the Faith, after which she sends him to Pope St Urban I, who is hiding from persecution in the region of the catacombs, to be baptized. (Urban was Pope from 222-230. Painting by Lorenzo Costa.)

The baptism of Valerian, by Giovanni Maria Chiodarolo and Cesare Tamaroccio.

When he returns to Cecilia, Valerian is able to see the angel, who then crowns them both with wreathes of flowers. (Painting by Bartolomeo Raminghi, known as Bagnacavallo, and Biagio Pupini.)

Valerian converts his brother Tiburtius, after which they are both arrested, tortured, and then taken out of the city and beheaded. (Painting by Amico Aspertini.)

The burial of Valerian and Tiburtius, also by Aspertini.

Cecilia stands before the prefect of Rome, a man named Almachius, and disputes with him over the truth of the Christian faith. (By Bagnacavallo and Pupini.)

The (attempted) martyrdom of Cecilia by beheading; “attempted” because, as the legend tells it, the inept executioner was unable to do his job properly, and thus wounded her horribly by striking her with the sword three times, but without killing her. Roman law forbade a fourth blow, and she was thus free to go, but died of her wounds several days later... (by Chiodarolo and Tamaroccio)

during which time she gave all her wealth and possessions to the poor. (This is represented by Costa very unrealistically, as if she were unwounded.)

The burial of Cecilia, by Francia.

The Hours of Charles of Angoulême (Part 2): The Passion Cycle and Calendar

This is the second set of images from a particularly high quality book of Hours made for Charles, count of the French city of Angoulême (1459-96), and father of King Francis I (r. 1515-47). (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Lat. 1173); the first part was published on Monday. Just under half of the volume, folios 59-115, is taken up with a very long series of prayers and meditations on the Passion, in both Latin and French, interspersed with twelve images that show episodes from the washing of the disciples’ feet at the Last Supper to the supper at Emmaus. These were originally created as engravings by a German printmaker named Israhel van Meckenem, which were then colored in by the main artist, Robinet Testard (fl. 1470 - 1519). Below them I include the twelve pages of the calendar.

As is typical of the late Gothic period, Meckenem’s images are quite complicated, with a lot of figures in a fairly limited amount of space, and very often more than one episode squeezed into the background. Here we see Christ washing St Peter’s feet in the foreground, with the Last Supper inside the building on the right, and in the upper left, the agony in the garden, with the crowd of soldiers entering the garden through the gate. (If you click the image to enlarge it, you can see that the figure of St John in front of the Lord at the table is very imperfectly drawn as the result of trying to compress too many figures into too small a space.)

The kiss of Judas and the arrest of Christ, with St Peter attacking the high priest’s servant at the lower left.

Christ appears before Pilate, who is dressed more or less as a typical urban magistrate of the period; at the lower left, a soldier is seen grabbing St Peter’s collar, as the serving girl looks on, and at the upper left, we see the soldiers mocking the Lord.

The flagellation, and at the upper left, Christ before Herod.

The crowning with thorns, and at the upper left, the soldiers hitting the Lord.

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The Hours of Charles of Angoulême (Part 1)

Here is another wonderful discovery from the endless treasure trove of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, a book of Hours made for one Charles, count of the French city of Angoulême (1459-96), and the father of King Francis I (r. 1515-47). (BnF Lat. 1173) The book contains a large number of full- and half-page images of extremely high quality, most of which are attributed to an artist named Robinet Testard (fl. 1470 - 1519). It also includes several engravings reproduced from works by a German printmaker, Israhel van Meckenem, which were colored in by Testard; these include a series of 12 images of the Passion, which I will post separately.

By the later 15th century, Books of Hours almost always included a set of four Gospel readings, one from each evangelist: John 1, 1-14, from the day Mass of Christmas; Luke 1, 26-38, from the feast of the Annunciation; Matthew 2, 1-12 from Epiphany; and Mark 16, 14-20 from the Ascension. Very often, each is introduced by its own picture of the corresponding evangelist, but here, they are all represented in one image by their traditional symbols, which surround Our Lord. Between them are the original four doctors of the Latin Church, and in the corners, the major prophets.

At the beginning of the Office of Our Lady is this image of the Annunciation. Note the arms of the kings of France on the reading desk, and on the altar, an image of Moses with the tablets of the Law.

The first page of the Office, with Our Lady dressed in blue and holding a prayer book, within the decorative initial.

A decorative page at the end of Lauds.

Books of Hours also routinely include two very brief Offices after that of the Virgin, one of the Cross, and another of the Holy Spirit. The former is introduced by this image of Our Lord as a child holding the Cross...

and the latter by this image of the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, set within a church; only eight of the twelve Apostles are included, so as to not make the space too crowded. (One of them is clearly identifiable as St James the Elder from his pilgrim hat.)

Matins of the Holy Spirit, with this beautiful image of the dove, and banderoles chained together with strings of beads, with several liturgical texts from Pentecost written on them.

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The Life of St Anthony the Abbot in a Sienese Altarpiece

One of the most beautiful depictions of episodes from the life of St Anthony the Abbot, whose feast is kept today, is a series of eight panels from an altarpiece painted in Siena sometime between 1425-50. The anonymous artist, to whom many other paintings are attributed, is referred to as the Master of the Osservanza, the name of a church on the outskirts of the city where he worked. (“Osservanza” was the common term for a group of Franciscans who sought to return to the observance of the most primitive and austere form of the Rule of St Francis.) Various theories have been proposed as to the altarpiece’s commission and destination; the depiction of St Anthony in a black habit may suggest that it was originally made for an Augustinian church, an hypothesis supported by the fact that the reading of St Athanasius’ Life of Anthony was a decisive moment in St Augustine’s conversion. The altarpiece was later broken up, and the different panels are now scattered through various museums, which will be noted in the individual explanations of each one. (All images are in the public domain in the United States; taken from this Wikimedia Commons page unless otherwise noted.)

The first panel is set inside the cathedral of Siena. On the right side, St Anthony is shown very young, kneeling in prayer at the high altar. (The artist gives us a glimpse of one of the crown jewels of Sienese art, the famous Maestà of Duccio di Buoninsegna.) On the left side, an older Anthony, richly dressed like a wealthy man of the 15th century, is attending Mass; as recounted by St Athanasius, his decision to become a monk was inspired by hearing at Mass the words of the Gospel (Matt. 19, 21), as if they were being spoken to himself, “If thou would be perfect, go and sell all that thou hast, and give it to the poor, and come, follow me.” (We cannot assume that every depiction of the liturgy in the art of this period is attempting to be strictly accurate, but note the blue chasuble and the single candle on the altar. – This panel is now in the Berlin Gemälde-Gallerie.)

St Anthony sells his possessions and distributes the money to the poor. The building which dominates the composition is typical of Sienese Gothic architecture; many similar structures can still be seen there to this day. Over the Saint’s head, in the tympanum of the building’s door, is the crest of a prominent family, the Martinozzi; a member of this family, a Franciscan named Giovanni, was martyred for the Faith in 1345 in Egypt, St Anthony’s native country. This would seem to suggest that it was commissioned by them, but there are strong arguments to the contrary. (See Painting in Renaissance Siena, by Christiansen, Kanter and Strehlke, the catalog of a show held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1988, p. 105. – This panel and the following one are now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.)

After living in a monastery for several years, and overcoming many temptations, St Anthony decides to depart to a more isolated place in the desert, and live as a hermit; here, he is seen receiving the blessing of one of the monks. One of the responsories of his proper Office describes this first phase of his monastic life as follows: R. The most blessed man went to the cells of the monks, paying close attention of the lives of the fathers, and the virtues of each one, * and he bore great fruit, like the bees who bring forth honey after tasting (many) flowers. V. Eagerly did he follow the temperance of this fellow, the humility of that one, the patience of another. And he bore...

St Anthony is tempted by a devil, who appears to him in the guise of a woman. Note that the Saint is now considerably older than he was in the previous panel; the devil is identified as such by the bat wings on its back. (This panel and the following one are now in the Yale Univ. Art Gallery; the first image of these two was downloaded from their website.)

St Athanasius tells of the many times when St Anthony struggled against devils, not only by resisting temptations, but also suffering bodily harm that they were permitted to inflict upon him. On one such occasion, “a multitude of demons … so cut him with stripes that he lay on the ground speechless from the excessive pain.” He was discovered unconscious by the local villagers, who thought him dead, and brought him to their church, here depicted in the background. (Life of Anthony 8 and 9) 

On another occasion, St Anthony was tempted by a heap of gold which the devil left by the side of the road where he was passing. This was originally painted in real gold leaf that was later scraped off, leaving the Saint to confront a completely harmless-looking rabbit. (This panel is now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.)

The seventh panel shows St Anthony’s dealings with St Paul the First Hermit, which I described two days ago in an article for the feast day of the latter. At the upper left, St Anthony sets out to find St Paul; on the right, slightly lower, he is guided on his way by a centaur; and at the bottom, the two Saints embrace. At the very top in the middle is depicted the same rose-colored church seen in the previous panel, to indicate that Anthony has journeyed far into the desert to find Paul. (This panel and the following are now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., from which this image was downloaded.)

The final panel depicts St Anthony’s funeral, specifically, the Absolution at the catafalque, which is being done exactly as in the traditional Roman Rite. The catalog cited above notes that the arrangement of the scene, with one person kneeling on one side of the bier, and the rest gathered around in a semi-circle, is reminiscent of several Renaissance depictions of the funeral of St Francis. The pink and black stripes on the church’s walls are very typically Sienese.

St Stephen the First Martyr 2025

Truly it is worthy... as we consider the birth of the blessed Stephan, who was both levite and martyr, and who set forth for us venerable examples of faith, of holy courage, of stewardship and outstanding chastity, of preaching and of marvelous constancy, of confession and patience. And therefore worthily with the feast of his passion does he before all others follow the birth of Thy Son, of whose everlasting glory he came forth as the first martyr. Through (the same) Christ our Lord, through whom the angels praise Thy majesty... (An ancient preface for the feast of St Stephen the First Martyr.)

The Ordination of the First Deacons, 1511, by the Venetian painter Vittore Carpaccio (1460/65 - ca. 1525). Now in the Gemäldegallerie in Berlin.

VD: Beati Stephani levitae simul et martyris natalitia recolentes, qui fidei, qui sacrae militiae, qui dispensationis et castitatis egregiae, qui praedicationis mirabilisque constantiae, qui confessionis ac patientiae nobis exempla veneranda proposuit. Et ideo nativitatem Filii tui merito prae ceteris passionis suae festivitate subsequitur, cuius gloriae sempiternae primus martyr occurrit. Per eundem Christum, Dominum nostrum...

In the days of the Venetian Republic, one of the most important aspects of the city’s religious life was a group of large and prestigious confraternities known as the “scuole grandi – the great schools.” These associations engaged in a wide variety of devotional and charitable activities, and each of them had a large hall on which these activities were centered. There was also a number of lesser schools, one of which was dedicated to St Stephan, and frequented by men in the wool trade. The painting shown above is one of five which this school commissioned from the painter Carpaccio in honor of their patron. The schools were all suppressed when the Republic was overthrown by Napoleon, and the possessions stolen and scattered; the fourth of the series, which depicted the trial of St Stephen, was lost.

Many Venetian artists excelled at representing texture in their paintings, and loved to show rich embroidered cloths like the dalmatics in the painting above, or the garment of the man looking up at Stephen in the next one. But they tended to be weak on their drawing, and as a result, their lines are often rather hazy. (Michelangelo, very much a product of the Florentine school which excelled at drawing, is reported to have said of the Venetian artist Titian that he would be a superb painter if he would just learn how to draw.) Carpaccio, however, is a master of both drawing and perspective, which is how he is able to use the rather fantastic architectural elements in the background to create an enormous sense of space.  

Here are the remaining three: the Preaching of St Stephen, now in the Louvre. 

The Disputation of St Stephen, now in the Brera Gallery in Milan.

The Martyrdom of St Stephen, now in the State Gallery in Stuttgart. Notice the clever way Carpaccio emphasizes the collective participation in the martyrdom by giving us several figures wearing red cloth.

A Wooden Model for the Cathedral of Pavia

Last week, we had two posts of Nicola de’ Grandi’s pictures of the cathedral of Pavia, Italy, and the tomb of St Syrus, the city’s first bishop. As I mentioned in the second one, the current cathedral is the result of a major rebuilding project that began in the later 15th century, and still remains technically unfinished. As a brief follow-up, here are pictures of a very beautiful and very well-preserved wooden model for that project, made between 1497 and 1501. It represents the fusion of the ideas of the original architect, Giovanni Antonio Amodeo, who planned the central nave, the external buttresses, and the external chapels, with Donatello Bramante’s design for the cupola and the large external apses. The church as it currently stands bears some resemblance to this design, but many of the model’s features were removed as the project slowly progressed.

In 1490, Leonardo da Vinci was called to Pavia to offer his opinion and advice on the project; here we see some sketched which he made in that period, one of a series of Greek-cross church designs, which were something of an obsession for the architects of that era. (Bramante would go on to be hired by Pope Julius II to rebuild St Peter’s basilica, which he planned as on a Greek-cross design, later imitated by Michelangelo, and not definitively altered until the early 17th century.) 

Another of a basilica, both in plan and prospective, based on some of the prominent church buildings in Lombardy such as the very ancient basilica of St Lawrence in Milan.