Rome in the seventeenth century was swarming with many foreign painters who came to the eternal city to learn, to seek fortune and, in the meantime, to enjoy the rich variety of life. Melania Mazzucco, in her book "l'Architettrice", while narrating the life of Plautilla as a child, describes an episode which is designed to introduce the reader to the carefree life of these young foreigner artists and, at the same time, evoke the masterpieces that would make them famous once they would return to their homeland.
The little girl is wandering around the city and gets lost: she is soon greeted by a festive group of foreign painters in a tavern. Among them a young woman stands out:
"The guitar is played by a beautiful woman whose buttery tits overflow from the neckline of an iridescent yellow dress" (p. 56).
I wonder if Mazzucco had in mind a painting such as this one by Gerrit Van Honthorst ( Utrecht 1590-1656) or one of the many tavern scenes depicted by the Utrecht painter.
Gerrit van Hontorst, The Dissolute Student, Alte Pinakothek, Munich (1625)
The Utrecht Caravaggesque group is specialised in candlelight scenes that illuminate, not visible to the viewer, the dark rooms where the protagonists of the various depicted scenes live.
Their contribution to the development of Dutch art was fundamental, but for now I prefer to shift the focus on a German painter active in Rome in the first decade of the 17th century: Adam Elsheimer. His Flight into Egypt, 1609 is one of the earliest and most enchanting nocturnes of the entire century. According to the Gospel of Matthew (2.13), Jesus' family had set out for Egypt to escape Herod's persecution (political persecution, we would say today).
Adam Elsheimer, The Flight into Egypt , Alte Pinakothek, Munich
The three protagonists and the donkey form a close group, huddled together at the center of the painting. Joseph holds a torch in one hand, with the other one he seems to be covering both mother and son, protecting them against the coold breeze of the night, one of those clear winter nights when you expect to freeze over soon.
Behind them we see a dark forest. It is not the landscape we would expect to encounter on a trip between Palestine and Egypt, but the artistic freedom of the painter is sacred. The night is illuminated by a full moon reflecting in a water stream. The stars "around the beautiful moon, their radiant visage hide " (in the immortal words of Sappho), higher up in the sky many more of them shine. The Milky Way appears clearly, for the first time depicted as a cluster of stars.
It is likely that Elsheimer used the telescope of Federico Cesi, Galileo's correspondent and founder of the Academy of Sciences in Rome, to depict some details of the lunar surface.
We are in the presence of a silent, dark world that might inspire in the viewer a sense of fear, but the night is illuminated by various sources of light that create secluded secure places where humans can find comfort - meanwile, far away above them, the immensity of the sky unfolds.
Another night comes to mind: the night when Jesus was betrayed and captured.
Caravaggio, The Taking of Christ, National Gallery, Dublin
This is one of Caravaggio's paintings that has been less consumed by the bulimic viewers who enthusiastically follow every exhibition where the fatal name appears. (Very clever indeed are the curators of so many showcases, who spend Caravaggio's name to attract clueless visitors).
The paiting is located in Dublin, it arrived in the National Gallery after a complex series of events. Commissioned by Cardinal Mattei in 1603, the artwork was moved to England and from there to a Jesuit convent in Ireland. It ended up in the Dublin museum through the attribution of an Italian restorer, Sergio Benedetti, to whom it had been entrusted by the superior of the convent, where the work had been lying for years with an erroneous attribution.
The extremely tight focus forced the painter to reduce the number of subjects and eliminate any environmental element. There are six figures in total, plus one that is half-hidden. Three on the left: a curious boy who is running away screaming while someone rips his cloak off him. (from the Gospel of Mark, 14,51 "But a young man followed him, clothed only with a sheet, and they stopped him. But he left the sheet and ran away naked"). The group of Jesus and Judas follows.
An obscene kiss consummates the betrayal. The victim is standing still, his hands clasped, motionless. A soldier's arm, crossing the entire frontal view, is about to grab him, the metallic glow of the armour emphasises the gesture of the capture.
To the right, at the far edge, behind two soldiers, is a man is approaching, raising a lantern and leaning forward to see what is happening. This is believed to be a self-portrait by Caravaggio. Of the painter's alleged self-portraits, this is the most serene. The centre of the work is occupied by the hands of Jesus, at the bottom and at the top of the painting by the hands of an unknown soldier who tears off the boy's cloak. This is a sublime synthesis of resigned acceptance and unnecessary violence, which seems almost casual.
Refrences:
Melania Mazzucco, L'Architettrice, Einaudi, 2019
Gerrit van Hontorst, The Dissolute Student, 1625, Alte Pinakothek, Munich
Adam Elsheimer, The Flight into Egypt , Alte Pinakothek, Munich
Caravaggio, The Taking of Christ, National Gallery, Dublin
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