Skip to main content

Pesellino, Filippo Lippi, 'Pistoia Santa Trinita Altarpiece', 1455




Inspired by the recent exhibition at the National Gallery, by eye is activated by the panels of Pesellino. Commissioned in 1455 by a confraternity, the artist combines tradition and innovation, paving the way for better-known artists to come. The work has had an exceptionally complicated life. Sawn up in the eighteenth century, the panels have slowly made their way to the National Gallery to be put back together, with the first panel (the Trinity section) acquired in 1863. One panel remains missing, restored here in the bottom right corner, prompting debates surrounding the rights to restoration. Putting the work back together certainly would have been a jigsaw puzzle, reflecting the challenge of piecing together the life of Pesellino, an understudied artist of the Italian Renaissance. 

There is a Botticellian aesthetic running throughout the piece, and Pesellino prefigures the Florentine master in many ways. The flying angels at the top of the panel bear a direct relation  to Botticelli's Mystic Nativity, produced nearly half a century after Pesellino began this commission. Even the colouration recalls Botticelli's floating angels, as they occupy the same point highest in the picture plane, floating in a flattened space. But arguably Pesellino even achieves a greater sense of foreshortening in his earlier piece, especially the feet of the left-hand angel which really push into the viewer's world, conflating reality and divine. As a devotional piece, this would have been especially sensory for the contemporary onlooker. The ombre skies in Pesellino's work, from a deeper blue to lighter at the base of the cross, form an intriguing take on atmospheric perspective in such a compressed space, echoed in Botticelli's Mystic Nativity. Pesellino was being extremely innovative. Admittedly in some areas it is more difficult to ascertain each hand of the artist. In the dark ground that they stand on, and the highlighting placement of the base of the cross, this seems to be Lippi's work (recalling his Adoration in the Forest from a similar date). But in the individuality of faces, one would assume the hand of the original artist. The features of Saint Jerome on the far right, for instance, can be directly connected to Pesellino's Madonna and Child with Saints now at the MET, attributed to a slightly earlier date. 

Pesellino proves he is a master and worthy of art historical re-examination. He can do large scale commissions such as this altarpiece, with documents stating it cost 150-200 florins, a huge amount in the fifteenth century. He can hark back to the early Renaissance; flat compositions with an exquisite gold background as the work at the MET illustrates. He can introduce and pioneer new forms, from a multifigural, proportional composition to attempts at a recessional background with a naturalistic landscape. He was a meticulous planner, as preparatory drawings for this altarpiece at the Uffizi testify. But he could also work on a small scale. Not only do the detailed predella panels on this altarpiece highlight this in their rich rendering of the lives of saints, but Pesellino gained fame through his cassone chests. He could therefore operate in the private and public realms, bringing objects to life in religious spaces but also in domestic environments. This is why he gained contemporary fame, enough to receive prominent commissions such as this. But fundamentally he can do all of this whilst maintaining religiosity, with devotion remaining at the heart of artistic style, form and narrative. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Guccio di Mannaia, 'Chalice for Pope Nicholas IV', 13th century

  As the only work remaining of Sienese goldsmith Guccio di Mannaia, the chalice he created for Pope Nicholas IV in the late thirteenth century is an incredibly important work of art. Not only does it highlight the rich, opulent nature of papal commissions, but it proves the talent of Sienese goldsmiths and their resulting influence on painters and sculptors of the period. The chalice is innovative in shape and form, but it is striking first and foremost through the use of gold. It is an object that deserves to be viewed in the flesh, because of its reflective and therefore mimetic potential – like a bronze sculpture it is activated by light and should be experienced in the round as a three-dimensional, highly decorated art object. Its complicated design features an almost architectonic base, star-like as it spills out towards the viewer. The base builds up into the stem of the chalice which is decorated with an array of enamelled plaques featuring saints, prophets, angels and furt...

Cellini, 'Perseus with the Head of Medusa', 1545-1554

  My eye is immediately drawn to the head of Medusa. At first glance it looks gruesome, as though Cellini has captured the moment just after the head has been decapitated, and it oozes blood and bodily matter. However the viewer then notices the similarity between that and Medusa's hair. Maybe it is just her hair after all. Cellini has cleverly enticed the viewer in here, to take a closer look and therefore involved them in the sculpture as a whole. Once they do come closer, they begin to notice other things such as the similarity between Perseus' hair and Medusa's snakes. Hero and monster are not so separate. Even the features of their faces are very similar. Perhaps Cellini wants to suggest that evil can often wear the mask of good. Or he could even be implying that everyone has some evil within them, even the hero Perseus.  One of the good things about sculpture is that the viewer is able to walk around it, and fully immerse themselves in the piece. Cellini has used this...

Marianne von Werekin, 'Sunrise', 1920

  An endless line of men that tug the rope of a small boat soon disappear into murky, burning red waters beyond. Colour is fantastical, mystical and otherworldly, producing an atmosphere far from reality. This is the Symbolist work of Marianne von Werefkin, part of the German Expressionists that worked in Munich from the 1910s. A movement so often dominated by the male names of the time – Kandinsky especially – Werefkin was a vital participant, expanding the range of art produced and displayed, complementing her work with art theory and written sources, as well as creating her own Salon upon her arrival in Munich. It is easy to get lost in biography with a piece such as this. Wasted, human potential seems to be at the heart of this work, signalled by the endless line of men pushing forward towards the edge of the picture plane. There is a sense of struggle and a universality to the suffering through the portrayal of faceless men in similar blue tones. Looking at the date produced o...