The limited purpose of this article is to survey the modern literature on the drawings of Ti-tian up untii the present, and to introduce some new material.
From Hadeln’s conservative views to the comprehensive but flawed approach of Tietze and Tietze-Conrat, scholars have by turns expanded or reduced Titian’s oeuvre through the addition or later excision of many studies by Domenico Campagnola, and in response to Dryer’s controversial allegation that many other works are fakes. A number of new attribu-tions have not gained acceptance. Wethey seriously muddied the waters still further with his recent volume. Some order has since been restored by Chiari’s admirably clear treatment, but it focuses on secure drawings and avoids peripheral works.
The Standing Male Nude acquired by the J. Paul Getty Museum is accorded in the article a detailed discussion for the first time, and a half dozen other little-known studies are placed within Titian’s development as a draftsman. An excursus sets out to clarify Tintoretto’s be-ginnings by transferring to him three drawings formerly thought to be by Titian. On the com-plex subject of Titian’s drawings, this article is by no means the last word, merely the latest.
On Gothic tomb plates, animals placed at the feet of effigies of the deceased have usually been attributed either positive or negative meanings. The author regards them as pejorative signs which, together with other iconographic motifs of sepulchral art, express the idea of man as the redeemed. An animal shown being trodden upon by the deceased symbolizes evil in defeat, as in representations of Christus victor treading on animals according to Psalm 91:13. The image of Christ triumphant is the first link in the chain of figures depicted raised above the backs of animals in medieval art, followed by representations of Maria victrix, saints, and rulers, as well as of the deceased as Homo victor. For the latter has vanquished sin and, having recovered his primary likeness to God, has become beautiful again. He has not died, but is standing at the gate of Redemption to live in eternity.
Two panels from Jacopo’s polyptych of the Coronation of the Virgin depict Roman land-marks associated with the story of the crucifixion of St. Peter. The story involves tapered tombs, or metae, near two city gates on different sides of town. One gate was on the road to St. Peter’s basilica and the other on the way to St. Paul’s Outside the Walls. Two metae were near the Castel Sant’Angelo on the way to St. Peter’s. Documentation comes from twelfth-century texts, the Ordo Romanus and the Mirabilia Urbis Romae, which call one tomb the “Sepulcher of Romulus”. The latter text states that Peter was crucified nearby.
Paired city gates belong to the story. In the northwest part of Rome, the Porta Collina was associated with the crucifixion. At a southerly gate on the way to St. Paul’s, according to tra-dition, Peter and Paul parted from each other before their martyrdoms. A pyramid nearby, called Gaius Cestius, which still exists, was known in the Middle Ages as the “Sepulcher of St. Remus”. On this road, the Via Ostiense, Paul was martyred.
In medieval lore, Romulus and Remus, the founders of ancient Rome, were identified with Peter and Paul, the fathers of Christian Rome. It was said that the saints were martyred where Romulus and Remus were buried. Moreover, a well-known sentence quoted by Eusebius mentions “trophies” of Peter and Paul. The sentence seems to refer to a road in the vicinity of the Vatican called “Via Triumphalis”. Jacopo’s panels suggest that gates associated with the saints’ victories over death were interpreted by him as triumphal arches.
Preparations for the Interpretation of Quattrocento Funerary Art
In this article the author examines iconographical and iconological elements of some of the best known examples of fifteenth century funerary art, including Gentile da Fabriano’s paintings for the chapel of Palla Strozzi, the Aragazzi monument in Montepulciano by Michelozzo, and works by Donatello and Desiderio da Settignano. The study aims to provide the interpreter with the means of comprehending the depth and degree of spiritual dedication of different artists to their art.
Before its recent restoration, the Portrait of a Youth was published in 1987 as a work by Bugiardini dating from about 1525–1530. As this article makes clear, such a dating is unac-ceptable. The costume is precisely like that in Raphael’s Portrait of Angelo Doni, which dates from 1504–1508. There, too, Doni’s hair is shoulder-length, not a fashionable style for young men by 1525.
The attribution to Bugiardini also appears to be mistaken. The stylistic similarities with Raphael’s portrait La Donna Gravida suggest that the Youth is in fact a Raphael of c. 1507–1508. Raphael repeated the device of the straight lines produced by folds in the background wall-covering when he painted Pope Julius II in 1511–1512.
A seal removed from the back of the Youth proves that in the eighteenth century the pic-ture was in the collection of the Earls of Chesterfield.
In 1521, Lorenzo Lotto painted a pair of pendant devotional pictures in Bergamo for Domenico Tassi. Only one original painting, Christ Taking Leave of His Mother (Berlin), has survived, but there is a copy in the Accademia in Venice of the complementary Nativity. The subject of this article is the structural, thematic, and theological interdependence of the two halves, which have never before been thoroughly treated in a unified context. The complex history of the pendants themselves, and their relationship to other Flemish and Italian works known to Lotto while he was working for the Tassi, are also discussed.
Two Unusual Moments by Salvator Rosa
Two paintings by Salvator Rosa are presented here in which the artist succeeded in im-pressing the viewer through the use of an unusual composition. In the first picture, Rosa’s modest aim was to represent cliffs so well that, as he wrote in one of his satires, when his enemies saw it exhibited in the Pantheon they would be consumed by envy.
The second is a Raising of Lazarus which Rosa copied from Jan Lievens, a follower of Rembrandt. The dramatic composition would have struck the Italian public as new and original.
In both cases, Rosa demonstrates his sensitivity to the deep mystery of the cliffs, which rise up unexpectedly in their hulking mass, as well as to that which is hidden in the earth itself - a strikingly pre-Romantic vision.
By postulating a particular mechanism by which forms are passed from one painting of this type to another, one can find relationships between a number of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century architectural caprices. Unlike the figure painters, architectural painters did not think in terms of the great masterpieces of their particular genre; instead, forms were passed from one artist to the next without returning to the ultimate sources of the immediate model. As a result, form changed progressively to the point where their origins can hardly be discerned. If one puts in the intermediate steps, however, the relationships become clear.
This article, therefore, attempts to connect a painting by Viviano Codazzi of c. 1650 (Chambéry), with one by G. P. Panini of c. 1720 (Frankfurt)—both of which represent imagi-nary ancient baths but are otherwise very different—by tracing a series of smaller changes in paintings by these artists and others (Niccolo Codazzi, Filippo Gagliardi, Marco and Sebas-tiano Ricci, Raffaelo Rinaldi [Il Menia], and Antonio Joli) during the intervening period.
Prior to the fifteenth century, little was known in Europe about the wild animals of the rest of the world; only five elephants had been seen since Charlemagne’s time, and there were no tigers before 1475. Bestiaries filled the gap, mixing fact and fancy. About 1410, a more or less accurately depicted giraffe appeared with a Centaur in Jean de Berry’s Belles Heures, in which such exotic elements may have been derived from Byzantine models. Cyriacus of An-cona’s exotic animal drawings of c. 1433 influenced Bosch, but it was Reuwich’s woodcut illustration of a giraffe in 1486, and engravings and woodcuts inspired by a giraffe given to Lorenzo de’ Medici in 1487, which were the models for subsequent renderings until the natu-ral history studies of the last decades of the eighteenth century, and the arrival, in the 1820s, of giraffes at the courts of European monarchs. In the artistic representations of the animal before that, its form varies, but the Centaur was unverifiable and thus its depiction remained unchanged.
Bachelard and Art
The philosopher Gaston Bachelard (1884–1962), who was also a philosopher of science, spent most of his time in the company of poets and artists. Bellmer, Segal, and Chagall even painted him, and there are portraits of him by the engraver Flocon and the draughtsmen Fouquet and Lapoujade. Bachelard’s most important essays on twentieth-century philosophy and aesthetics concern artists and the imaginative power of material.
The eye and the prophetic look, the dynamics of the hand, and the "color variations" of the soul—all these analyses show that Bachelard’s hitherto neglected theory of art goes back to his philosophy of the four elements, his conception of dreams, and his phenomenology of the imaginary.