The amount of detail contained in the small panel of St Thomas Aquinas is hard for the eye to quantify. It is even more staggering when a viewer realises that this is but one section of the so-called Demidoff Altarpiece, produced by Crivelli in 1476 for the church of Ascoli Piceno. As a whole, the altarpiece includes complex tracery and gold work in the International Gothic style, the latter of which is repeated on the gold leaf backgrounds that saints sit upon, through both tooling and gilding methods. The figure of Thomas Aquinas, ageing and dressed in a Dominican habit, is positioned on the right-hand side of the altarpiece's upper tier. He looks to the left, betraying his position on the edge of the panel, as he gazes towards the figure of St Stephen. Although he does not open his mouth, his eyeline suggests dialogue. Directional gazes, coupled with illusionistic detail, are constantly employed by Crivelli to bridge the gap between reality and the divine.
Aquinas' inquisitive gaze betrays his intellect, as does the book he holds. His fingers which press against the pages of unreadable pseudo-scripture with sensitivity, tactility and convincing realism, are thin, bony and grasping. The skin pulls at the thumb as it stretches to take the weight of the book, whilst the index finger prizes the pages apart. The book itself seems worn and well used, almost recalling the aged skin of the scholar himself. There is also immediacy and presence, as Aquinas takes a viewer through the book in his hands in real time. This is furthered by the realistic pressure of the fingers on the pages. The parchment is gathered in between the second and third finger, as we witness the making of a new crease by Aquinas' hand, and by extension the hand of the artist, Crivelli. Realism stretches beyond the weighty book in the saint's left hand, however, for in his right he grasps a model of the church in which the altarpiece is housed. The door is open, inviting the devout to enter and as if to confirm this, Crivelli has placed figures peering out from the interior darkness. Not only does this serve to highlight the immense level of detail in Crivelli's panel, yet it intrigues the viewer as to what lies beyond. Open doors had been used as a motif in devotional works since the thirteenth century, to reference the realm beyond and the possibilities of reaching heaven. The open door could also here have a more immediate religious purpose, not only reflecting the movements of those who would have entered the church to view this altarpiece, but welcoming the devout into the house of the lord through the open doorway. Crivelli depicts the church aged and worn, with moss growing from its bricks and discolouration on its exterior facade. There is a certain element of the passing of time in the way Crivelli has depicted the church, slowly becoming colonised by natural forces.
Even in one panel of the Demidoff Altarpiece, illusion and reality are the driving forces, channelled through a spiritual lens to encourage devotion from the viewer. As the exhibition at the Ikon Gallery in Birmingham in 2022 proved, Crivelli shattered the levels of sacred and secular, both through imagery but also through a use of materials. The Demidoff Altarpiece is particularly well known for its depiction of St Peter, who's keys are three-dimensional, modelled in gesso so that they protrude off the flat panel and push into a viewer's space. A similar technique, yet on a smaller scale, was used for Aquinas' halo, matching the other saints on the panel. Crivelli's combination of material manipulation with trompe l'oeil successfully deceives the viewer's eye. Yet, every panel, as the depiction of Aquinas proves, maintains its religious velocity both to a fifteenth century viewer in Ascoli Piceno, and a twenty-first audience in the decontextualised museal display today.
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