More than mere Beauty: Iconography and Renaissance Art.
Christians from all denominations, including me, have a deep affection for the profound and complex theological meaning behind eastern icons. That tradition and that relationship between the divine and the art does not die in the east. Often, we look at Renaissance art as a mere vehicle of beauty, whether we find it particularly stoic or particularly cheesy (if you associate it with the later, you should be embarrassed!), or whether one associate it with the powerful families of papal Rome of the banking families of Florence, it is very easy to miss the subtle but intricate theological language surrounding this art. It is an art that developed personal piety, it could be public, such as a church altarpiece or a chapel fresco, it could be devotional, such a small painting of the Virgin, it could be understood by the peasant, identifying particular moments in the life of the men and women of Scripture or the later saints, while a prince or cardinal, would have recognized in them the familiar faces of their fellow men and women of power, in the portraits incorporated in those very paintings. It is a complex language, it is utter beauty, developed by an Italy that gave up the power of the empire of old and embraced a new, Machiavellian, form, a soft power, shown through the great beauty of its art, but it is not mere beauty. These aesthetic achievements come with deep theological meanings which are often not described in general art history courses.
A view of the Renaissance collection in the Medici's Palazzo Pitti in Florence.
Sometimes, there is a common misinterpretation of the Renaissance as a moment of rebirth after the “dark ages” and not as the actual culmination and obvious cultural achievement, the rediscovery of classical forms of beauty, of written works from antiquity are considered without their deeply Christian frame. The Renaissance was not an early Enlightenment. It was a prolific cultural time deeply rooted in personal piety and a love for the sacred that gave birth to the most beautiful expressions of religious art. This art operated through a profound visual language that is both narrative and symbolic, within the context of a rediscovery of antiquity, a new bold statement defined in classical terms as a reflection of the world the incarnate God chose to reveal himself in. It does not merely tell stories from Scripture or the lives of the saints, but it creates a new grammar through settings, compositions, gestures. The great art historian, Erwin Panofsky, who is at the basis of the modern interpretation of iconography, argues that the purpose of this discipline is not simply to translate this visual language but to interpret its deeper symbolism. In the Renaissance, this was a complex symbiosis of biblical sources, hagiography, theology, iconography, often contemporary politics.
While France or Spain had strong armies and military might, Italy developed the art of diplomacy. Soft power, as beautifully translated by Nicolò Machiavelli in the Prince, finds its apotheosis in the stoic subtlety of Renaissance art. The great Italian masters did not simply divide certain narratives into defined scenes; they produced complex sequences of events or narratives into a single moment, encompassing different chronological moments. It is through the use of certain gestures, postures, and a spatial arrangement that we can, from a sociological point of view, see again in the informal interactions of modern Italians in the cafes of their local piazze. Renaissance art reflects the societal context it founds itself in, as defined since the late Medieval period. For example, a strong rise of personal devotion and piety, emphasized through the direct engagement with the sacred, especially via Our Lady, giving birth to a long tradition of devotional art which survives to this day. Something so private and humble, yet clearly important and celebrated, as we can see by the great masters who produced such instruments of faith, however small. The Renaissance spectator was trained to read images through sermon, liturgies, meditative practice; art held a central role in this as it could achieve a unique complexity the other instruments could not. Several iconographies for many different theological subjects developed during this fruitful time, creating a distinctive language, from Marian moments, the most prolific, to Christological scenes as well the visual hagiography of the lives of the saints, all operating according to specific rules, following in the ancient iconographical tradition of the Church, shaped by theological convictions in the liturgical space and later through personal, devotional use, eventually giving rise to the Tridentine spirituality of the “santino” which survives to this day. It is a language deeply rooted in tradition, and it enables the viewer to recognize the subject immediately.
A view of the Domenico Ghirlandaio's Tornabuoni Chapel in Santa Maria Novella in Florence.
Art is essential to Christianity, as it precedes Scripture itself, much like the Church itself does. Anglicans were observers at the Second Vatican Council, a central moment within the life of the Church. Often, misinterpreted as the cause of much that has gone wrong with the way we honor that sense of beauty in church and liturgy. It is actually a great theological statement, as expressed in Lumen Gentium. Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy from 1963, specifically expresses in its "Sacred Art and Sacred Furnishings" chapter (wish the Anglican Church had a similar respect of the importance of Christian art!): art serves the liturgy, it is to be of noble beauty, not extravagant, but modern art is welcome as long as it is fitting, artists do have a vocation, Church authority and tradition guides art. Gaudium et Spes, the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, 1965, discusses art, and Pope John Paul II, wrote a letter to artists in his later pontificates stating how Christian art is a divine instrument. Our ancient tradition is much more than a mere aesthetic addition; Renaissance art is not merely pretty. It has profound meanings. Even those classical elements reflect a religion that saw a God become incarnate in the Greco-Roman world, so as to use that influence through time and space to spread the Word to the four corners of the world and into the future. Christian art is a central process of God’s continuous act of revelation through history within the framework of the economy of salvation, Christian art is divine beauty made incarnate, it provides the space in which we can better adore the Lord made flesh and blood, we are called to worship him in the beauty of holiness. A simple depiction of the Annunciation might be much more than it looks, often referring to a specific moment within that event. In this blog, we will go through some of the most essential.
The ceiling frescoes by Pintoricchio in the quire of Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome.
The iconography of the Annunciation is perhaps the most prolific in the quantity of differences sequences it has. The Gospel narrative from Luke 1:26-38, describes the archangel Gabriel bringing the good news to Mary, but it also records her emotional responses: she is troubled, then she reflects, she questions, finally she gives consent. From these moments, late Medieval and Renaissance art has created five different iconographies reflecting these sequences: salutatio, conturbatio, cogitatio, interrogatio, and humiliatio. They follow Mary in the emotional journey from encounter to consent. The first reflects the angel’s greeting, usually recognizable by Gabriel’s raised hand or the presence of a lily. The second suggests reflection, usually a book is present. The third implies dialogue, Mary usually through Mary’s gestures, often with eye contact between the two. Finally, the last one represents Mary’s acceptance of divine will, typically shown through a bowed head and crossed arms. Rarely, these scenes are separate in Renaissance art, often they are all one in a single composition. In the Fra Angelico’s frescoes in San Marco in Florence, for example, Mary’s crossed arms and lowered gaze indicate a humiliatio, while her attentive posture signals a cogitatio. Gabriel’s gesture suggests a salutatio, while the calm interaction between their fingers implies an interrogatio. The moment of the conturbatio is implied, it is part of the scene as a whole. Other works, for example, Filippo Lippi’s indicate a specific moment, in that case, the conturbatio. In all examples, the scene is centered on Mary’s emotional response and her role as the mediator of the Incarnation of God.
The Annunciation by Filippo Lippi in the Palazzo Barberini in Rome.
Another complex iconography, also Marian, is that of the Visitation. This is a narrative of encounter and recognition. Also, in Luke 1:39-56, Mary is meeting with Elizabeth, it is a meeting of four, as Elizabeth is pregnant with Christ’s cousin, Saint John the Baptist, both Mary and John, through movement in the womb, greet Mary and Jesus. In an extraordinarily profound theological encounter. It is also on this occasion that Mary (according to tradition) sings the words of the Magnificat: My soul doth magnify the Lord and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour… In Italian Renaissance art, this iconographical moment is traditionally depicted as an embrace or meeting (occursus) set within an architectural frame or a landscape. The Visitation does not assume fixed sequence of “psychological” moments like the Annunciation, but Italian masters try to articulate the various phases in different key moments within the frame of that holy meeting. The most common is the occursus between the two, the two women incline towards each other in an intimate gesture. This is the moment in which Elizabeth recognizes Mary to be the Mother of God, this is often conveyed through strong gestures and physical contact, especially with the womb, especially as seen in the Visitation by Domenico Ghirlandaio. A second moment is that of the exsultatio in which John the Baptists leaps in Elizabeth’s womb, suggested through a particular focus on the bodies of the women. Finally, is the scene of the Magnificat itself, in which Mary sings her hymn of praise, marked by gestures of speech and movement. Often, also in this case, these moments are condensed into a single composition, reflecting the Renaissance preference for integrating one narrative into a single, harmonious moment, much like the dramatic Visitation by Pontormo, which adds to the scene that very drama that characterizes the Mannerist phase of Renaissance art.
Pontormo's Visitation in the Palazzo Pitti.
Another important moment within the life of the Virgin is actually that of the end of her earthly life. In the early centuries of the Church, two distinct theologies and iconographic traditions developed, one eventually became more associated with the East, the other with the West: the Dormition and the Assumption. The first is rooted in apocryphal texts such as the Transitus Mariae, it depicts Mary lying asleep on her bed surrounded by the Apostles, Christ appears to receiver her. This iconography was also used in the West until the early Renaissance period. Notable examples include Pietro Cavallini’s late 13th century mosaics in Santa Maria in Trastevere, where the Byzantine-inspired iconography is clearly that of the Dormitio Virginis. Later, in the 15th century, both Dormition and Assumption coexisted in Christian iconography, as the two theologies began to overlap. In the Basso-Della Rovere Chapel in Santa Maria del Popolo, Pintoricchio depicts an Assumption still very much rooted in the iconography of the Dormition, the empty tomb is there, the Apostles around it, similarly Filippo Lippi’s final masterpiece in Spoleto Cathedral depicts the Dormition, above it however, is the Coronation of the Virgin, a common Renaissance iconography, hinting at her assumption. Finally his son, Filippino Lippi depicts the Assumption in the Carafa Chapel of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in the early years of the 16th century, Botticelli’s pupil adopting that love for frenzy from his master, depicts the Virgin not with open but closed eyes and beneath her being taken into heaven amidst a choir of angels, is the empty sarcophagus surrounded by the astonished Apostles, finally marking that theological shift, that would gradually become more evident during the High Renaissance, as can be seen in Titian’s Assumption of the Virgin, in which Mary is truly being taken up, bathed in divine light, the Dormition would survive in the East. Both would continue to honor the role of the Virgin for the centuries to come, both theologically and visually.
Filippino Lippi's Carafa Chapel in Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome.
Moving on from solely Marian iconographies, if visually rather than theologically...! We encounter, or should we say, we begin with the Incarnation moments itself, the Nativity. This introduces a broader narrative; the birth of the Messiah is followed by a series of revelations. Italian masters often combine these moments within a single scene, something which can sometimes come across as exceedingly frenetic, much like we see in Botticelli’s Mystic Nativity at the National Gallery in London. These moments are the adoration of Mary, the arrival of the shepherds, and the announcement of the angels, singing the Gloria in Excelsis Deo. In Botticelli’s work, the composition encompasses both the earthly and the heavenly, with the angels circling over the scene. There seems to be a vertical progression emphasizing the ontological significance of the event. In Piero della Francesca’s earlier work instead, much in his more emotionally stoic tradition, we see stillness, contemplation, the adoration is at the center. Various representations focus on specific moments, all emphasizing different moments of the Incarnation, Christianity’s most pivotal moment until the Passion and Resurrection. Directly following the Nativity is the Adoration of the Magi, perhaps the most renowned example is that by Gentile da Fabriano at the Uffizi, in which multiple episodes are once again combined, in that very early-Renaissance fashion, with rich detail and elaborate backgrounds. This altarpiece includes the journey of the Magi as well as their act of homage. The kneeling magus offering his crown, speaks of humility, almost mirroring Mary in the Annunciation. In later Renaissance adorations, the scene reflects several human emotions, reactions, from awe to contemplation. This also reflects that Renaissance love for pathos, while remaining faithful to the central theme.
Sandro Botticelli's Mystic Nativity at the National Gallery in London.
Another pivotal moment in Renaissance art is the Presentation of Christ to the Temple in Luke 2:22-38, with its themes of offering, recognition, as well as prophecy. Perhaps, among the finest examples is the Giovanni Bellini one in which Mary and Simeon at the center symbolize the recognition of the Christ. Simeon’s face reflects the words of the canticle Nunc Dimittis, while Mary’s saddened look anticipates Christ’s role in the future. Andrea Mantegna also provides another iconographic view of this moment. The tension is higher, linking Nativity joy to the knowledge of the Passion. The two masters are able to deliver that bitter-sweet moment in a moment embedded with pathos.
Fra Angelico's Presentation to the Temple in one of the cells at San Marco in Florence.
The Baptism of our Savior is also symbolic within the frame of Christological iconographic, Piero della Francesca’s is a fine example of that Renaissance sense of calm at a deeply significant moment, Christ is in the Jordan with the Baptist, the Father’s voice speaks, the dove descends, the beginning of our journey is shown before our eyes. Finally, coming to the Passion of Christ, there are multiple iconographical moments defining this pivotal moment in the history of God’s salvific action through history. Unlike previous stories, the Passion is usually depicted in different scenes. From the triumphal entry in Jerusalem, through the Last Supper, to the Crucifixion, Lamentation, Deposition, Harrowing of Hell, and finally Resurrection and Noli Me Tangere, when the Magdalene sees the risen Christ first and thinks he's a gardener. A moment so intrinsically significant could not possible be condensed in one. The examples are far too many to list, Raphael’s Crucifixion at the National Gallery in London hides the deep emotional charge of the moment with the stoicism of his master Perugino, betraying a sense of calm, this has to happen, the Resurrection is coming. Works such as Andrea Mantegna’s Lamentation over the Dead Christ or Raphael’s Deposition emphasize the dramatic perspective of the viewer at the moment of Christ’s death. They reflect our own state and emotion, represented in the dead body of our Savior, the empathy in our devotional engagement with our sacrificed lamb.
Raphael's Deposition of Christ at the Galleria Borghese in Rome.
What emerges from these iconographies is a distinct language that reflects, sometimes through stoic, sometimes through frenetic scenes, human emotion. These iconographies follow recognizable convections allowing the faithful to interpret them with ease. These are not fixed, they evolve, but within the frame of the Church’s tradition, not according to individualistic feelings. According to Panofsky’s method, understanding these masterpieces requires attention not just to the work per se but to the very system they become incarnate in and with which they are in continuous dialogue. How not to mention that besides the great stories from the lives of Jesus and Mary, during the Renaissance great honor is given to the rich iconography of saints, each of them with their own specific attributes and narratives. Unlike scriptural scenes, these are based on hagiographical accounts, the most important being the Legenda Aurea by Jacobus de Voragine in the 13th century. This text provided the stories with associate with the saints, shaping their artistic iconographies. Saints became recognizable through attributes such as objects, gestures, etc. enabling the viewer to recognize them easily. A few examples: Peter holding the keys of the kingdom of heaven, Peter carrying the sword of his martyrdom, Saint Catherine of Alexandria with the wheel of her attempted martyrdom, Stephen with stones, Lawrence with a gridiron… Sebastian being bound to a tree and pierced with arrows… while others, such as Saint George being associated with a dragon, Saint Francis, shown with the stigmata, emphasizing his imitation of Christ… just to mention a few! Many of them beautifully depicted in devotional art or the great cycle of frescoes and altarpieces of the great churches of the Renaissance, from Rome to Florence, functioning as intercessors between the human and divine, but also as role models!
Pintoricchio's Bufalini Chapel in Santa Maria in Aracoeli in Rome.
Finally, Renaissance iconography symbolizes a complex union between narrative and symbolism. These images are not mere esthetic representations but invitations to contemplation via a very profound spirituality, accompanying us to Jesus via the life of Mary and the examples of the saints in glory. By understanding this language (art should never treated as background noise but as a testament of the tradition of the Church, even predating Scripture), we can have a true insight not just into the art of the Renaissance but into its deep spiritual framework, if we can pray through the utmost beauty inspired by the divine, perhaps we might get closer to him. God created a world of beauty, and it is by living through beauty that we can truly follow in his footsteps, by following in those masterpieces created by those artists inspired by theology made real, the true meaning of the religion of the Incarnation, as expressed by the greatest beauty that surrounds us and that still resonates across space and time.
