Alberti’s Window

Earlier this week I posted about a stolen Caravaggio painting, The Taking of Christ (“The Kiss of Judas”) that was recovered in Berlin (see above (and note damage incurred by theft!)). However, a lot of debate has occurred this week as to the authenticity of this painting, which originally was housed in the Odessa Museum of Western and Eastern Art (Ukraine).  As reported here, it is very likely that this this recovered “masterpiece” is actually a contemporary copy from the 17th century.  Experts argue that this copy was probably created 20 or 25 years after Caravaggio’s original painting of c. 1602.

In truth, the authenticity of the Odessa painting and another version of the painting (located in Dublin) has been disputed over the years.  At this point, most experts agree that the Dublin painting is an original work by Caravaggio.  In fact, the Odessa painting was only authenticated as recently as 2005 (it had long been considered a copy, but was authenticated while it was on exhibit in Spain).  In a twisted way, I guess it’s good that this Odessa painting was stolen: the events have afforded experts another chance to reexamine this work.  Although I haven’t examined the painting for myself, I have a feeling that this new (and not-so-new) opinion of the painting is correct.  I think that it’s a copy.  Although I don’t know the specifics regarding the 2005 authentication, it seems like someone (a Spaniard?) was a little too hasty and a little too determined to authenticate the Odessa painting.  And hey, I can’t blame that person too much.  I would want to authenticate and “discover” a work by Caravaggio, too.

Obviously, it’s hard for the Odessa museum to accept this new opinion.  No one wants to hear that their prized piece is no longer a masterpiece (and also not worth the previous estimated value of $100 million).  I guess that by now the thieves have heard this news, as well.  How ironic: they went through all of that trouble to steal a fake.

Caravaggio continues to make headlines this year (which celebrates the 400th anniversary of Caravaggio’s death).  You may have noticed my recent tweet that scientists believe that they have found Caravaggio’s bones (see left).  This is really exciting news, although I wish that we could determine the exact cause of Caravaggio’s death through analysis of these bones.  If only bones could talk…

In other exciting news, Caravaggio’s painting The Taking of Christ (also known as “The Kiss of Judas,” c. 1602, see right) was recently recovered (see here).  This painting was stolen from Ukraine two years ago, and it recently appeared in Berlin.  Two thieves have been apprehended; they apparently tried to sell the painting to a German collector.  The recovery is really exciting, but its really disheartening to see the damage incurred by the theft (see image of the damaged canvas at the end of this post).

(FYI: There is another version of The Taking of Christ which is located in the National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin.  Don’t be confused if you’re recently seen this painting on display!)

UPDATE: This recovered painting has been reexamined by experts and determined to be a 17th century copy of Caravaggio.  See this post for more information.

I just finished reading The Genius in the Design: Bernini, Borromini, and the Rivalry That Transformed Rome by Jake Morrissey.  It was a pretty good book, although I fluctuated between being bored and fascinated.  Morrissey covered a lot of information that I already knew (his discussion of St. Peter’s building history bored me to no end), but he also presented many things that were new to me.  It’s always interesting for me to read popular history books like this one. I vacillate between feeling like a scholar (by already knowing the information that’s presented in the book) and feeling like an idiot who doesn’t know anything.  I guess such vacillation is good, in a way.  There is always more to learn on a subject, and it’s good to be reminded of that.

This book revolved around the artistic rivalry that existed between Borromini and Bernini during the 17th century.  Although the artists worked together for many years (did you know that Borromini helped Bernini make the baldacchino inside St. Peter’s?), they eventually had a falling out.  The two artists ended up competing for some of the same commissions.  Things turned especially ugly when Borromini publicly and vehemently critiqued the instability of Bernini’s bell towers at St. Peter’s.  It’s interesting to realize, though, that although they two artists were rivals, they also undoubtedly influenced the work of each other.  Morrissey points out one such influence by suggesting that Bernini’s Scala Regia (1663-1666) was influenced by Borromini’s colonnade at the Palazzo Spada (1652-53).

As I was reading Morrissey’s book, I thought about another possible way that Borromini may have influenced Bernini.  Morrissey quotes Borromini’s description of his church Oratorio dei Filippini (Oratory of Saint Philip Neri, 1637-1650, shown left in a 1658-1662 engraving by Domenico Barrière).  Borromini designed this church with specific intent to reference the human figure.  He wrote in his treatise Opus Architectonicum, “In giving form to the facade…I created the figure of the human body with open arms as if it embraces everyone who enters; and this open-armed figure is divided in five parts, that is, the chest in the center, and the arm, each in two sections [arm and forearm] as they open out.”¹

This quote immediately reminded me of the many interpretations of Bernini’s piazza of Saint Peter’s (1656-1667, shown right), which has also been analyzed as anthropomorphic in form.  In fact, Howard Hibbard notes that Bernini himself compared the colonnade of the piazza to those of outstretched arms (just like Borromini’s comparison with the Oratorio dei Filippini and open arms!).  Hibbard writes, “The image of the piazza was likened by Bernini to the outstretched arms of the Church welcoming the faithful, so that even this seemingly pure architectural creation has an anthropomorphic, and even quite sculptural connotation and function.”²

Is it just coincidence that these two rivals both used the imagery of oustretched, open arms for their architectural designs?  I doubt it, especially considering the rivalry between these two men.  I think that Bernini’s architectural “arms” were influenced by Borromini’s “arms” at the Oratorio dei Filippini.  Borromini’s church was completed just six years before Bernini began work on his project. And, furthermore, the manuscript of Opus Architectonicum (in which Borromini outlines his explanation of the “arms” idea) is dated to 1656, the same year that Bernini began work on the piazza of St. Peter’s.  What if Bernini got a look at Borromini’s treatise or heard of some of the ideas contained therein?  I think it’s possible that Borromini’s “arms” theory may have actually influenced the piazza design at St. Peter’s.³


1 Jake Morrissey, The Genius in the Design: Bernini, Borromini and the Rivalry That Transformed Rome (New York: Harper Collins, 2005), 132.  Morrissey quotes Borromini’s treatise Opus Architectonicum (Joseph Connors, ed. Milan: Il Polifilo, Trattati di architettura, 1998). 

2 Howard Hibbard, Bernini (New York: Penguin Books, 1965), 155.

3 I realize that other architectural theories exist which compare architectural forms to the human figure.  Even the ancient Roman writer Vitruvius compared the proportions of the Classical orders to the human form.  Admittedly, Borromini is not the first architect to come up with this comparison between the human form and architecture.  However, I wonder if Borromini could have been the first to incorporate the welcoming outstretched arms in architecture, particularly in its propagandistic role for the Counter-Reformation.  If that’s the case, then Borromini has once again been relegated to the sidelines, since most people associate this propagandistic idea of Catholic arms/hugs/embraces with Bernini’s piazza.

Keeping up with the Caravaggiomania theme, I wanted to bring attention to some recent news stories (brought to my attention by heidenkind). Currently, two groups are working together to exhume the possible remains of Caravaggio:

– Silvano Vinceti, a television producer, believes that he narrowed down the possible remains of Caravaggio to fragments of nine different bodies. These remains have been sent to the Professor Giorgio Gruppioni (University of Ravenna) for carbon dating. Vinceti has exhumed the remains of other prominent historical figures, including Petrarch and Pico della Mirandola. However, Vinceti has long been susceptible to criticism, largely because he isn’t a trained historian or scholar. You can read the recent news article here. (There is also an interesting picture in the article that shows Gruppioni and Vinceti displaying an open box that may contain Caravaggio’s remains – it’s kind of creepy but also really cool.)

– Mr. Gruppioni and the University of Ravenna, in tandem with the University of Bologna, are furthering this testing by performing DNA tests on possible descendants of Caravaggio. See the Associated Press release here. (I think it’s interesting that this article doesn’t mention Mr. Vinceti’s involvement in the project. Are the universities are somewhat embarrassed about their association with the controversial television producer?)

Even though Vinceti isn’t a trained scholar, I’m glad to see that he is utilizing the knowledge of scholars for this research project. It will be interesting to see what findings come from these studies! Wouldn’t it be neat to find out that you were a descendant of Caravaggio?

Caravaggio, Medusa, 1598-99

One of my students brought my attention to this recent article in the New York Times. The article highlights a new argument by Philip Sohm, an art historian at the University of Toronto. Sohm believes that people aren’t as interested in the Renaissance artist Michelangelo anymore – instead, people have shifted their interest to Caravaggio. Sohm has charted interest in Caravaggio and Michelangelo through the number of scholarly publications over the past fifty years, and the number of writings about Caravaggio have gradually overtaken those about Michelangelo. Sohm calls this new phenomenon “Caravaggiomania” – and as a Baroque scholar who loves Caravaggio, I think that term is awesome.

Sohm thinks that art history doctoral students are having difficulty finding new and innovative things to say about Michelangelo. I don’t doubt this is the case. Michelangelo and the Renaissance period have been beaten to death for centuries in terms of research – but I do think that new interpretations and fresh scholarship can still rise up in the 21st century. I just wonder where Renaissance scholarship can go for new and fresh ideas. I’ve been thinking about this quite recently, actually, ever since I read heidenkind’s post about her difficulty in finding great publications about Donatello.

Sohm’s Caravaggio argument is timely, particularly since this year celebrates the 400th anniversary of the artist’s death. There are a lot of huge celebrations and events taking place to honor Caravaggio this year, including a major exhibition that is currently on display at the Scuderie del Quirinale in Rome. This exhibition is bringing together Caravaggio paintings from all over the world – you can see a list of the paintings at the bottom of this Italian website. Other events have also taken place in preparation for this show, such as the public restoration of Adoration of the Shepherds. How I wish that I could go to Rome and celebrate this summer!

Anyhow, because of these celebrations, there undoubtedly has been Caravaggiomania over the past couple of months and years. Here’s the question that I would pose to Sohm: How many publications and writings have occurred recently because of the preparations for this celebration? Is it possible that we will see a decline in Caravaggiomania next year, once all of the celebrations have ended?