Michelangelo da Caravaggio. Félix Witting

worked mostly as a fresco painter and tried to pass on to his pupil the somewhat grandiose side of Romanesque art, from which base he could expand the means and resources at his disposal. Caravaggio’s works show that he neither ignored the advice of his artistic masters, nor the works of other artists, often even those of a heterogeneous style. He studied Antique art with diligence and emulated Michelangelo Buonarotti. He even undertook the painting of the sign of his brother Frangiabigio Angelo’s perfumery, in this way further developing genre painting,[25] as we can see in The Fortune Teller (pp. 21, 22).

      The Ecstasy of Saint Francis, 1594.

      Oil on canvas, 92.5 × 128 cm.

      Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford (Connecticut).

      The Cardsharps, c. 1595.

      Oil on canvas, 94.2 × 130.9 cm.

      Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth.

      The Musicians, c. 1595.

      Oil on canvas, 92 × 118.5 cm.

      The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

      However, save his tendency for grandeur, the Cavalier d’Arpino, with his more generalistic style, had very little to pass on to the painter from northern Italy. Even so, at that time, Giuseppe Cesari was considered one of the most influential artists in Rome. One imagines that an unknown protector recommended Caravaggio to Cesari, opening the door to his prestigious studio. Whilst the Cavalier d’Arpino concentrated on frescos, Caravaggio, as Baglione clearly states, devoted himself first and foremost to oil painting.[26] He was employed “to paint flowers and fruit”. The still life genre, which was very fashionable in Lombardy, began to evolve towards a very realistic representation where each detail was highlighted as if it had been magnified by an optical lens. The representation of natural elements predominated in the first works of Caravaggio: Boy with a Basket of Fruit, Boy Peeling a Fruit (copy), and Basket of Fruit. The sensuality of the two boys in these works is evident, though the declaration by certain critics that these paintings are odes to homosexuality seems somewhat exaggerated and simplistic. It is true, however, that slightly parted lips charge a painting with eroticism, and Caravaggio did occasionally hide messages within his works. Thus the fruit that the boy is peeling could be a bergamot, a bitter orange, the symbol of Universal Love. During the Middle Ages, it was not unusual for a husband to put on vermillion robes, which Goethe declared in his treatise “represent the colour of extreme ardour as well as the gentlest reflection of the setting sun”.[27] Therefore this painting could symbolise the transition from child to adult, with the bitter taste of the fruit representing the end of innocence.

      Nevertheless, Nature was not, for Caravaggio, the great protector and dominator of mankind that so many other artists took it to be. Nature provided him with no feelings of exaltation nor of lyrical depression, it did not flood his soul with joy or fear, it inspired neither adoration nor meditation within him. It offered him simply a framework, a theatrical scene within which to place his characters or a series of objects, which he could reproduce faithfully on the canvas, conforming to the fundamental principles of naturalists. He was aiming, according to his own words, “to imitate the things of nature”, while at the same time conforming to the standards set by his Lombardian masters. As previously noted, Caravaggio himself said on this subject that “a painting of flowers requires as much care as one of people”. Although Merisi pronounced this himself, he did later admit, conforming to the general opinion of the time, that the human form could never be compared to simple fruit and vegetables. Beyond the prevalence of vegetables, Caravaggio’s contemporaries must have been impressed by the realism of his paintings. The sensuality which emanates from Caravaggio’s early works deeply moves the spectator from the first viewing. However, his first masterpiece, the soft and luminous landscape of the Rest on the Flight to Egypt – which clearly reminds us of the style of Giorgione – evokes more than the simple sensory impressions of the outside world.

      The Fortune Teller (second version), c. 1595–1598.

      Oil on canvas, 99 × 131 cm.

      Musée du Louvre, Paris.

      The Fortune Teller (first version), c. 1595.

      Oil on canvas, 115 × 150 cm.

      Musei Capitolini, Rome.

      The serene sky reflected in the calm water, the caress of light on the oak tree, the cherry laurel and the white poplars; the tender flair of the marshland reeds with their frayed leaves surrounding the three-leaved brambles have been brought together in order to create a harmony, a source of beauty to which the young artist was sensitive. In addition, Caravaggio paid particular attention to the expression of the face, as one can see in the apparent pain of the child in Boy Bitten by a Lizard. The instantaneousness of the boy’s reaction and the mask of pain on his face are so unmistakeably realistic and accurate that they cannot help but evoke feeling in the viewer. The working of the facial expression is remarkable and the intensity of feeling within the work is extraordinary. Throughout his career, Caravaggio worked ceaselessly at the expressions and feelings of his subjects.

      After several months, according to Baglione, Caravaggio, independent of a master, occupied himself with painting some self-portraits in the mirror. There are several works today which could be examples of these, but their attributions are still debatable.[28] Amongst the impressions collected in Venice, for example, there was a painted self-portrait made up of warm tones, essentially brown in colouring, with which the thick white paint of the collar and clothes contrasted strikingly, and a soft, gentle face despite the sword “which sat so loosely in its sheath”. The somewhat heroic golden tone sets the painting within his early Roman period. Another self-portrait, at one time in the collection of the Duke of Orleans, is currently missing.[29] It showed the artist in a beggar-like outfit, seen almost entirely from behind in a lost profile pose, holding a mirror in front of him, in which his weathered but not unattractive face is reflected; next to him is a skull. He next painted Baglione as Bacchus with grapes “with much diligence, but little sentiment”.[30] This painting, which was at one time lost, was seized by tax officials from the Cavalier d’Arpin in 1607. It can now be found in the Galerie Borghese, where it has been for several years. Caravaggio may have represented himself here as the sick Bacchus, excited to be recreating reality. The youth’s pale and wan complexion gives away his poor health. Is this the malaria, as many critics like to think, that debilitated Caravaggio? Whether or not this is so, the dubious whiteness of the cloth indicates the painter’s convalescence. The fruit in the foreground is also noticeable as a silent witness to the still lifes of Caravaggio’s early work. Likewise, the fact that he placed this fruit in the foreground, rather than the god Bacchus, betrays the artist’s typical will to go against all the supposed “rules” of the time. Sensuality reigns in this painting, and the exposed shoulder of the figure only serves to reinforce this impression. Gorging himself on grapes, the youth turns towards the viewer as if in invitation. The realism in this painting is striking, and one can see the extent of Caravaggio’s mastery of the art of feeling and suggestion. The figure’s contrapposto pose highlights the influence of the statuary art of the artist’s namesake, Michelangelo Buonarotti.

      Bacchus, c. 1596.

      Oil on canvas, 95 × 85 cm.

      Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence.

      Basket of Fruit, c. 1597.

      Oil on canvas, 47 × 62 cm.

      Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan.

      Caravaggio

25

To be compared with Meyer, J. op.cit.

26

Baglione, G. op.cit., (ch. 1).

27

Goethe, J. W. (1996). Traité des couleurs. Paris, France: Triades.

28

Baglione, G. op.cit., (ch. 1).

29

Meyer, J. op.cit., (p. 623).

30

Baglione, G. (1642). Vita di Michelangelo da Caravaggio. Rome, Italy.