Long Time No Blog, or What I've Been up to for the Past Four Months

Oh, my darling bloglings! It's been too long! My guess is that you're either asking:

Where in the world have you been in the last four months?

or

Who are you again?

Of course, there's a third option, that no one is actually reading this since I have all but abandoned my poor, dedicated bloglings.

I will try not to dwell on such unpleasant possibilities, and attempt instead to rectify the situation by catching you up on what's been going on in my life since I last posted four months ago, because, well, it's been one hell of a season. If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you'll know that I rarely talk about my personal life. I'm not a naturally shy person, yet for some reason I have censored myself when it comes to revealing details about my life.

This is all about to change. You may also know that I started a podcast in the past year (one of the soon-to-be-mentioned reasons for my lengthy absence). I don't seem to have the same bashfulness when it comes to podcasting, and I'm pretty open about my life when I'm on air, so I figure, all my personal business is already out there and it's too late to get it back, so I might as well mention it here too from time to time.

So without further ado...

This winter has been one of the busiest, most exhausting, and most exciting in recent memory. It started out with a bang as I threw a bridal shower for a dear friend in early November. She's mad about the Etruscans (and in particular bronze Etruscan hand mirrors) and so it made perfect sense to throw her an Etruscan-themed bridal shower! I may have had more fun planning this shower than the bride-to-be did attending it. To put it briefly, I went a bit overboard, making Etruscan-themed decorations, treats, and even an Etruscan Bridal magazine.

Can I tell you how much I geeked out when I discovered the Etruscan font? For those of you who aren't lucky enough to have a close friend obsessed with the Etruscans, I'm here to tell you their language reads right to left.

Most of the shower games were Etruscan-themed as well, but I think the piece de resistance was the cupcakes decorated with fondant bronze hand mirrors. These beauties, which were as delicious as they were adorable, were made by the uber-talented Alexandra of Cupcakes in Rome. I made the red currant scones you see on the left. Also very yummy, if not quite so pretty. The recipe for those came courtesy of my fellow Rome blogger, the fabulous Trisha Thomas, aka Mozzarella Mamma.

 

 

Later that same day, I had the pleasure of participating in a segment that will be aired on the Travel Channel later this year. The hour-long feature on Rome is part of a several-part series on some of the world's greatest cities. The series is called Metropolis and should air sometime in June.

The segment I was featured in was on the art of aperitivo in a glorious piazza. Here I am with three friends enjoying Aperol Spritz in Piazza di Pietra at one of my favorite spots in the city, Salotto 42. I'll be sure to let you know when it airs so you can hear me trying not to embarrass myself on camera.

Aside from these fun events, what I really dedicated myself to during the month of November 2014 was something called National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, as its participants affectionately call it. If you've ever dreamed of writing a book, but just can't seem to find the discipline to sit down and do it, NaNoWriMo is for you. The idea is, you and literally hundreds of thousands of other writers around the world make a commitment to write a 50,000-word novel in just one month, the month of November. That works out to 1667 words per day if you manage to write every day. I didn't start out too strong, so felt like I was constantly playing catch up. But I eventually got into the groove, and seeing the number of words I needed to write to stay on track shrink every single day was enough impetus to force myself out of bed well before six am most days to get my writing in before heading to work.

I earned this badge with early mornings and lots of Earl Grey.

It was an exhausting month, and I'm not one who functions well on too little sleep, but it was worth it when, by November 30th, I had an (incredibly rough, aka nearly unreadable)  first draft of my second novel. Yes, that's right, my second. My first novel took a great deal longer than 30 days to write. I'm actually not sure if I've mentioned it on the blog before, but I wrote an art mystery for young readers that takes place in Rome (where else?). It's for the Middle Grade age group, which is roughly between 9 and 12, give or take a year on each end. I'll leave the details of the book for a future post, but I will confess that I have been working on this labor of love on and off for the past five years. And while, no, I didn't write the first draft in a month (closer to a year, actually), the revision process was a good four times longer. No one warned me that writing the first draft of a book is the easy part! It's the (seemingly endless) revisions which test a writer's mettle and perseverance.

But persevere I did, and by the summer of 2014, I finally had what I believed to be a draft that was in good enough shape to send out into the world. I started querying literary agents last summer. After several months of this disheartening process (which tests a writer's perseverance even more than revising, I'd wager) without any offers, I took a break from querying to participate in NaNoWriMo. It was just what I needed to get my creative juices flowing again after months of stagnation and rejection letters. I dove back into querying in December, and that brings me to my next big accomplishment of the winter, which happened just after the New Year. Excuse the all-caps but I can't help shouting:

I GOT AN AGENT!!!

[source]

For any other writers out there, or for actors, performers, and musicians too, you know what a life-changing accomplishment this is. In a writer's case, signing with a successful agent is probably the most important step in their career, maybe even more significant that that elusive first book deal.
And mine is not just any agent, but one of the best in the business, the legendary John Silbersack of Trident Media Group. I am so incredibly honored and thrilled to have him representing my work that it's honestly hard to put it into words (a worrying sign for a writer!). Suffice it to say, there are a lot of happy dances going on in my apartment these days.

As I expected, my agent (my heart still does a mini-swoon when I write the words "my agent") had a long list of revisions for me, and I have dived head-first into those. I've given myself the Ides of March as a deadline, I spend all weekend, every weekend chained to my desk attempting to wrestle what I thought was a final draft into an even final-er draft. I hope that this explains why, although one of my only New Year's resolutions of 2015 was to WRITE A BLOGPOST AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK, it's already the 20th of February and I'm just finally getting around to my first post of the year. Mea culpa!

The other thing that has been taking up a lot of time, but in a very enjoyable way, is my podcast, The BitterSweet Life. It's hosted by myself and the amazing radio producer extraordinaire, Katy Sewall, who just happens to be one of my closest and oldest friends in the world. When she moved to Rome last year, we decided to do a podcast all about what it's like to be an expat, either for the long-term or the short-term. It's casual, light-hearted, and most of all, non-scripted. We chat about lots of different topics that expats encounter such as homesickness, foreign language, visa problems, integrating, becoming alienated from your native culture, and dating the locals. Oh, and our mutual obsession with Caravaggio, which is slightly off topic, but we don't care.

We finally started a Twitter account, @BitterSweetPod, so be sure to follow us there if you want to be kept up to date with new episodes. Katy, who is currently back in Seattle, recently posted a photo from a recent interview she did that has somehow taken Twitter by storm. Katy interviewed a little girl earlier this week who loves and feeds crows. They bring her shiny gifts in return and this is her collection.

Here's the original tweet:

Interviewed a little girl this morning that feeds crows and they bring her gifts in return. Here's her collection. pic.twitter.com/kqNrlAa4Ie
— The BitterSweet Life (@BitterSweetPod) February 16, 2015

When Katy posted the photo three or four days ago, I thought it was wonderful, but I had no idea it would go viral. And viral it has gone, with over 4600 retweets, 4800 favorites, and hundreds of comments to date. Not bad for an account that had (at the time) just 100 followers. People across the world are so moved by this story, not to mention an entire sub-culture of people out there who are absolutely passionate about crows! Who knew? I'm starting to develop a soft spot for them myself!

My last big project of the winter is my collaboration with an awesome new app called VoiceMap. If you love to dig deep when you travel but don't always have the time or money to hire a private tour guide, this app will make you squeal with glee. The app is the brainchild of some very enterprising and creative people down in South Africa. The idea is that storytellers in cities around the world take listeners on a tour of a neighborhood by way of a smartphone. If you're the listener, all you have to do is walk where the storyteller indicates, and listen to him or her bring the city to life right in front of your eyes.

This video explains the project better than I could:

If you haven't guessed already, I am narrating a walking tour of Rome's Trastevere neighborhood. It is exciting to be a part of a project that I find so meaningful and useful at the same time, although my lack of technical skills has slowed me down more than once, and it's taking me a bit longer than I had expected! I will report back as soon as my walk is ready. I hope you will download it and let me guide you through this neighborhood I adore the next time you're in Rome.

If I have learned anything in these last four months is that synchronicity is real, and that working on projects that push you in the direction of your dreams bring more and more opportunities and amazing people into your path. Leaving The Pines of Rome blog out of this equation just isn't acceptable to me anymore. I'm lucky enough that all my passions intermingle in such a beautiful way, each one inspiring another. So I'm going on the record and making a commitment to post once a week from here on out. The posts will probably be shorter than usual, simply out of necessity, but since I'm not convinced anyone reads through to the end of my novel-length posts anyway, that might be a good thing for all concerned!

All photos by author except where indicated

Tweet

Save on Delicious

Photo day: Mailing a letter to Caravaggio

I gasped and stopped in my tracks when I saw this during my Sunday walk. It's not the first time I've seen Caravaggio-inspired street art in Trastevere. The Medusa electrical box was one thing, but this made my easily excitable heart pound with unexpected delight.

It's not just because it's inspired by my favorite painter Caravaggio, or because it comes from one of my favorite of his paintings (see below), but because it features the face of a very young Mario Minniti, one of Caravaggio’s favorite models. And as much as he hates it when I say it, that handsome face, with its half-moon eyebrows, heavily lidded eyes, prominent nose and rosebud mouth, is strikingly similar to my own Maritino’s face (minus Mario's baby fat, naturally). The similarity is much more noticeable in more mature portraits of Minniti, such as the Bacchus. I would do a side-by-side comparison, but that would put me in some seriously hot water, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Keep your eye out for a post featuring the many portraits of Mario Minniti, coming soon…

The Calling of St. Matthew, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Contarelli Chapel, San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome, 1599-1600

Did anyone else notice the keyhole right over little Mario's heart?

Photo sources: 1 by author; 2

Tweet

Save on Delicious

Long-lost paintings by Michelangelo and Caravaggio, are they or aren't they?

Two of Rome’s most beautiful exhibits of the moment, The Renaissance in Rome: in the footsteps of Michelangelo and Raphael and Rome in the time of Caravaggio are ending this coming weekend, so if you haven’t had a chance to see them yet, I highly recommend you high-tail it to Via del Corso and Piazza Venezia respectively before all these amazing works get shipped back home. 

Both exhibitions are more in celebration of the works inspired by these three big kahunas of the art world, as opposed to displaying much of their own works. As I’ve talked about before, dropping big names seems to have become the norm in the quest to attract as many visitors to an exhibition as possible. Even so, the exhibits are still wonderful and well worth a visit.

One thing these two shows have in common is that each has a work of art on display that has been recently attributed to one of the two passionately adored Michelangelos. At The Renaissance in Rome, the so-called Pietà of Ragusa, literally discovered behind a couch in a middle-class home in Buffalo, New York, recently restored and on display publicly for the first time, is allegedly a long-lost work by Michelangelo Buonarroti himself. My good friend, Theresa Potenza, a Buffalo-native and art historian, writes about it in the New York Post here and more in-depth in the Buffalo News here.

Pietà di Ragusa, School of Michelangelo (with attribution to Michelangelo himself by some scholars), 1545. Private collection

According to some of the most respected Michelangelo scholars, at least the base sketch of the painting was the work of the master’s hand, if not the entire piece. The painting seems to have passed from Michelangelo's close friend Vittoria Colonna to (centuries later) a German baroness, and was eventually given to the great-great-grandfather of the American owner, whose children affectionately call it the “Mike.” It was relegated to behind the couch when it was hit by a tennis ball. If in time the work proves to be a genuine Michelangelo, it could be worth as much as $300 million dollars.

Saint Augustine in his study, attributed to Caravaggio by some (clueless) scholars

Much less convincing is the painting of Saint Augustine which some are now claiming to be the work of a young Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. It is on display at the Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit at Palazzo Venezia. It was originally part of the art collection of Vincenzo Giustiniani, a well-known collector of Caravaggio's paintings, and a couple of "experts" out there are convinced it is the Lombard master's work. There’s only one problem with it: it doesn’t look like anything Caravaggio ever did. In my very humble opinion, if this were the work of the world’s greatest master of chiaroscuro, my beloved bad-boy Caravaggio, the background would be much darker and sparser. There wouldn't be anything back there besides maybe a window, a curtain or a shaft of light.

The only thing that even comes close to Caravaggio's style is the book that is edging slightly over the end of the table. But everything else, I mean, really? The mitre? The pathetic two-dimensional bookshelf? Please! Even the facial features and hands are way off.

But who am I to judge? I may be an impassioned lover of Caravaggio's work and I may cross borders on occasion in my quest to see his every last painting, but I can hardly be considered an expert. So here's what Maurizio Marini, a real Caravaggio expert, has to say about it: "If that's a Caravaggio, then I'm baby Jesus."

Ouch.

What do you think? I'd love to hear your opinions so feel free to comment! For information on visiting these exhibits (and to decide for yourself if these two works are authentic or not) check out my Exhibits on Now page. And hurry, they both end 18 March!

Photo sources:

1, 3: Courtesy of Arthemisia Press Office

2, 4: Courtesy of Civita Press Office

Liked it? Then share:

Tweet

Save on Delicious

Caravaggio, you devil!

If Rome can't get enough of Caravaggio, you certainly can't expect me to. In fact, there's a disgraceful lack of Caravaggio in the contents of this blog. I'm going to start remedying that right now.

Love victorious, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

The Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit was set to end last weekend, but as I happily announced last week, it has been extended through mid-March! If you want to go to a Caravaggio exhibit, let me warn you right now, it isn't one! But it's still full of wonderful works of art, and beautifully curated, so I recommend it nonetheless. 

One of my favorite aspects of this exhibit was that most of the works, instead of simply hanging on the wall at eye level, have been inserted into replica altars, with faux marble and porphyry, because almost all of them are part of altarpieces. There has been some criticism that the works are displayed too high off the ground, but they were meant to be seen this way in the churches they were painted for, so in my opinion it works.

One of over 100 paintings on display is Giovanni Baglione's Sacred love conquering profane love. Actually, it's not this one below. This is his first version of the same subject. Baglione was one of the most enthusiastic followers of Caravaggio's innovative new style of naturalism plus chiaroscuro, a style that was bursting onto the Roman scene in the first years of the 1600s. Problem was, Caravaggio didn't like people copying his style. Apparently he didn't agree with the adage that the greatest form of admiration is imitation.

According to Peter Robb (whose book M: The man who became Caravaggio I am currently absorbed in), this painting was greatly inspired by, even a challenge to, Caravaggio's most celebrated and notorious work of the moment, Love victorious (pictured above), albeit a completely different take on the subject of love. In fact, Baglione's divine love was seen as a kind of antithesis to Caravaggio's shocking earthly love.

Here you see sacred love in full armour, breaking up what appears to be a tryst between profane love and the devil himself. Robb describes it as "a sanctimonious courtier's appeal to the counter reformation properties," adding that "on this level at least, it worked brilliantly." When the work was enthusiastically received by the cardinal who had commissioned it --and Baglione generously rewarded for his work-- Caravaggio was understandably miffed. According to Robb, Caravaggio considered Baglione's painting "at once cheaply derivative and smugly critical of his own most daring work." The fact that Caravaggio was having his paintings rejected right and left because he refused to censor his own art to pander to the church couldn't have helped matters.

Sacred love conquers profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

But as frustrated as Caravaggio must have been, Baglione's next painting was even more insulting. Baglione had been criticized for depicting sacred love in full armour, so he reworked the painting with two major differences: he changed the angel's outfit to what Robb describes as "a hideously fancy and fussy girdle" but more provocatively, the devil is no longer turning his head in defeat, but looking straight out at the viewer with the unmistakable features of Caravaggio himself. (The second version is the one that appears in this exhibit.)

Considering the conspicuous position of these two would-be lovers, and the fact that Caravaggio's recent Love victorious had been modelled by his well-known boy-toy Cecco Boneri, with this work Baglione was attempting to smear Caravaggio's already fragile reputation with the stain of sodomy.

Sacred love conquering profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602-3, Palazzo Barberini, Rome

Below you can see the clear resemblance of Caravaggio's most famous self-portrait, painted ten years prior, with Baglione's devil version of Caravaggioabove.

Detail from Sick Bacchus (self-portrait), Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1593, Galleria Borghese, Rome

If you think Caravaggio took this insult lying down, you don't know art history's favorite bad boy very well. Caravaggio and a couple of his friends retaliated by writing a couple of virulent and vulgar poems that offended Giovanni Baglione so gravely that he took them all to court for slander. Caravaggio ended up serving a few weeks in the Tor di Nona prison followed by a lengthy house arrest. Only his high connections saved him from being sent to the galleys.

Peter Robb recounts this and many more of Caravaggio's exploits in his engrossing book (along with vivid descriptions of all his works) so I highly recommend you pick it up. (It has recently be rereleased with the new title M: The Caravaggio enigma.) You will also find both of the comic and insulting poems, which I would love to post here, but I'm waiting until I can find the original Italian versions. Let me just say that the first one is called Gian Coglione.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

Tweet

Save on Delicious

The Madonna of Loreto: Caravaggio vs Carracci

One of the reasons to visit the Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit is the opportunity to study side by side two paintings of the same subject painted in the same city in the same year by two very different artists.

The subject is the Madonna of Loreto. According to legend, the Holy House, where the holy family lived and Christ spent his childhood, was miraculously transported from Nazareth to Loreto, Italy (with a brief stop over in Croatia) in the 13th century. A massive basilica was later built around the holy house, which is now the site of an important Christian shrine, a much visited pilgrimage site, particularly in the 16th and 17th centuries.

Self-Portrait, Annibale Carracci

Around 1605, both Caravaggio and Annibale Carracci (arguably the two most popular painters of the moment) were commissioned to paint Our Lady of Loreto. I can't imagine two more drastically different interpretations. Yet the truly interesting thing is just how much those two artists have in common, at least on paper.

Portrait of Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Ottavio Leoni

They were born just over a decade apart. Both were born and first studied art in the north of Italy.  Both were inspired by the great Venetian masters, particularly Titian. Both arrived in the Rome in the 1590s, at the height of the Counter Reformation. Both artists rejected mannerism as artificial and opted instead to paint from life, recreating what they saw in nature, and both had a talent for the play of light and shadow called chiaroscuro.

Although to our eyes Caravaggio is clearly the more daring and innovative artist, Carracci was considered one of the most radical artists of his time, particularly in his early career. But with the strict regulations on artists in Rome under prudish Pope Clement VIII, Carracci became an expert at toeing the line. While Caravaggio was becoming more and more daring in his work (and having several paintings rejected by patrons in the process), Carracci was becoming the darling of the art world. Caravaggio famously painted life exactly as he saw it, whereas Carracci chose to capture the ideal world as naturally as possible. Two different approaches to naturalism.

Translation of the Holy House, Annibale Carracci, Sant'Onofrio Church, Rome

Annibale's Madonna of Loreto, more commonly called the Translation of the Holy House, is a classical, idealized interpretation of the miracle. You would have a hard time imagining the pope and his cronies being offended by this, and it certainly didn't go against any of the stringent rules in Cardinal Paleotti's On sacred and profane images, (the mandatory handbook for artists during the Counter Reformation). The glowing Madonna in blue is perched atop the flying house being crowned by angels as Baby Jesus pours water to relieve the souls in purgatory. Nothing could be more acceptable, graceful or pleasing to the eye.

But Caravaggio's Madonna di Loreto (also known as the Madonna of the Pilgrims), painted the exact same year, is something else entirely. As Peter Robb puts it in his engrossing M, the man who became Caravaggio, "a flying house with clouds, sunlight and angels around it and the Madonna on board--no way [Caravaggio] was doing that." Instead he chose to depict a young, beautiful Madonna holding an overly-large Christ on the doorstep of an ordinary house. Before them, two ragged pilgrims kneel in adoration. 

Madonna of Loreto, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Sant'Agostino Church, Rome

It caused an uproar right from the start, and it wasn't just the pilgrim's filthy feet in the viewer's face that people were talking about. One of Paleotti's rules was against depicting saints doing ordinary every day activities, as if that cheapened their holiness, so the Virgin as a housewife hanging out on her front porch was not OK. Even the pilgrims themselves were offensive, an all-too present reminder of their unpleasant existence en mass in an already crowded city. 

But much worse than that, the Madonna had been modelled by Lena Antognetti, a well-known courtesan frequented by many a cardinal. By using her, Caravaggio was blatantly disregarding the Council of Trent's ban on representing saints as recognizable living people, not to mention sexually attractive ones. But somehow, Caravaggio got away with it, which definitely didn't always happen. And the result? People the world over visit Sant'Agostino to see Caravaggio's version of the Madonna di Loreto; how many do the same for Carracci's at Sant'Onofrio? Caravaggio's courage to paint what he truly saw has made him one of the world's favorite artists.

Interestingly enough, while Caravaggio is by far the more popular artist today (with an average of four exhibits a year in any given city), it is Carracci who for hundreds of years after his death was considered the great Italian painter at the turn of the 17th century. Whereas Caravaggio was all but forgotten a mere 20 years after his death.  His popularity would not begin to rise again until well into the 20th century.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3; 4: courtesy of Civita Press Office

Liked it? Then share:

Tweet

Save on Delicious

Another Caravaggio exhibit?

Rome is obsessed with Caravaggio lately, and I, for one, can relate. I mean, how can you not love art history's favorite bad boy? The artist who dared to paint the world as he saw it and not as the church told him to? I have travelled to Naples, Sicily, Malta and further, just to track down Caravaggio paintings. One of my life’s goals is to see every work he ever painted. 

But even I have to point out that Rome’s Caravaggio fever is starting to get out of hand. Since the year of Caravaggio’s death has been hotly debated (it was originally believed to have been 1609, but now art historians agree it was 1610), we got to celebrate the 400^th anniversary of it for a good two years.

A joint Caravaggio/Francis Bacon exhibit at the Borghese Gallery in 2009 kicked off the Caravaggio madness (I know what you’re thinking: what in the world do Caravaggio and Francis Bacon have to do with each other? Bacon was born in 1909, so it was Bacon’s 100^th birthday and Caravaggio’s 400^th death-day. A bit contrived, perhaps?) But as luck would have it, his death was decided on officially as 1610 in 2010, so another exhibit was in order, this time at the Scuderie del Quirinale, and I must admit, it was spectacular, with many works from private collections that I would have had a difficult time seeing otherwise.

The following 12 months saw a parade of Caravaggio exhibits, one right after the other. The Roman art-going public apparently couldn’t get enough, and the city of Rome cashed in on the craze by dreaming up any possible subject for an exhibit: one recreated his studio to hazard a guess at how he was able to paint so well from life (La Bottega del Genio, Palazzo Venezia), one displayed works by his many followers and imitators (I Caravaggeschi, Palazzo Ruspoli), another one followed his career through the police reports he appeared in (Una vita dal vero, Archivio di Stato) and yet another was entirely dedicated to the techniques he utilized to paint the Contarelli Chapel at San Luigi dei Francesi (La Cappella Contarelli, Palazzo Venezia).

Now that it’s 2012, you know what I could really go for? An exhibit about Caravaggio. I mean, he just doesn’t get any press these days. No wait, I’ve got it: let’s have an exhibit on artists painting in Rome during the same period as Caravaggio, without any actual paintings by him (ok, ok, maybe we’ll put in one) and then let’s slip his name into the title so that people will go see it! I mean, who’s going to pay to see an exhibit on Giovanni Baglione?

This is actually very common, I have found. Case in point: this year’s big Botticelli exhibit that was actually on Filippino Lippi. At least the title of this one was more honest: Rome in the time of Caravaggio. Disclaimer: nowhere does it say you will see any actual works by Caravaggio at this exhibit! Still, just his name is enough to make people form a line out the door and shell out 10 euros. 

Now, after all my complaining, I have to admit, I really liked the exhibit. I knew in advance that the only Caravaggio I would be seeing was one I can see in a church in Rome for free anytime I feel like it, (without 74 people crowding around it), so I didn’t get my hopes up. But the exhibit was so well curated and some of the paintings so glorious that I can honestly say, I thoroughly recommend it, even if you’re starting to feel ODed on Caravaggio.

Here are a few of the highlights, and I will go into greater detail in the next few days. For practical information on visiting the exhibit, see my Exhibits on now page. (It was scheduled to close this weekend, but has been extended to 18 March! More Caravaggio for everyone!)

Susanna and the elders, Arthemesia Gentileschi

St. Cecilia and the angel, Carlo Saraceni

The Penitent Magdalene, Giovan Francesco Guerrieri

Madonna and child, Orazio Gentileschi

St. Augustine in his studio, attributed to Caravaggio

Is the above painting actually a long-lost work by Caravaggio? What do you think?

The Fortune Teller, Simon Vouet

All images provided courtesy of Civita Press Office.

Liked it? Then share:

Tweet

Save on Delicious

The Borghese Gallery and the fate of an ill-gotten collection, part 1

Do you believe in karma?

What about when it comes to art?

Visiting the extraordinary new exhibit at the Galleria Borghese, which opens in Rome today, I couldn't help but be struck by the irony of situation. Sixty works of art, mostly antiquities, once part of the Borghese collection, have been temporarily returned from their current location at the Louvre in Paris back to their original home at the Boghese Gallery. But how did they get to Paris?

Would you be surprised if I told you Napoleon had something to do with it? But let me start from the beginning...

Rome, 16 May 1605. Camillo Borghese is elected Pope Paul V and immediately names his sister's son, Scipione Caffarella, as Cardinal-Nephew. Not content with being a pope's nephew, Scipione becomes the adopted son of his uncle and is known thereafter as Scipione Borghese. He became the most unscrupulous collector the art world has ever seen.

Scipione must have realized that as Cardinal-Nephew in corrupt 17th-century Rome, he would have more than ample access to any funds he might require, and so he traded his right of inheritance with his cousin Marcantonio, in exchange for every piece in the family's art collection. Despite his position of immense influence, he chose not to involve himself in affairs of state, and instead used his power to satisfy his obsession to possess the world's greatest art.

The collection was already dazzling, but it wasn't enough to satisfy Scipione. He had plans for a marvelous villa, custom built to display the crown jewels of his collection, and he was determined to fill it up. One of his preferred painters was Giuseppe Cesari, better known as Cavalier d'Arpino, a mannerist painter who could boast that Caravaggio had once been his student. In fact, it was d'Arpino who introduced Scipione to the work of Caravaggio, as well as that of Bernini, both of whom would go on to become the cardinal's favorite artists. Since Caravaggio had once worked in d'Arpino's studio, the latter owned a number of Caravaggio's early paintings, and possessed a collection totalling 107 works by various artists. Scipione lusted after d'Arpino's collection (the Caravaggio works in particular) and it didn't take long before he got his hands on it. In 1607, when the artist failed to pay a tax bill, Pope Paul V confiscated his entire collection and gave it to Scipione. The collection included Caravaggio's Boy with a Basket of Fruit and Sick Bacchus, both of which hang in his villa today. If Scipione was addicted to collecting art, then his uncle the Pope was his enabler.

Boy with a Basket of Fruit, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1593-1594, Galleria Borghese, Rome

Sick Bacchus, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1593-1594, Galleria Borghese, Rome

Another Caravaggio painting, Madonna and Child with St. Anne which had been commissioned to be an altarpiece in a chapel in St. Peter's, was appropriated by the cardinal when it was declared by the College of Cardinals to be unfit to hang in the basilica. Documents have suggested that Scipione may have planned it that way from the beginning.

Madonna and Child with St. Anne, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1605, Galleria Borghese, Rome

More shocking still is how the Cardinal Borghese ended up with Raphael's sublime Deposition. A gang working for Scipione literally ripped it off the Baglioni Altarpiece in the church of San Francesco in Perugia. The city of Perugia was understandably outraged, and to appease them, Scipione had two copies of the painting by Lanfranco and d'Aprino sent to them. But if you've seen the original, you know the copies couldn't possibly substitute it.

The Deposition, Raphael, 1507, Galleria Borghese, Rome

While Bernini was more than willing to be on the cardinal's payroll, pumping out masterpiece after masterpiece, some of his most famous sculptures that still adorn the gallery today, others were not so easily convinced. Cardinal Pietro Aldobrandini had commissioned the sensitive artist Domenichino to paint his triumphant Diana and the Hunt, and when Scipione decided that the work should go to him instead, Domenichino refused to sell it to him. Domenichino was carted off to jail for his lack of cooperation (and probably some invented charges as well) and Scipione got his Diana in the end. Guido Reni, a proud Bolognese through and through, got so sick of the nepotism and corruption rife in Rome, he washed his hands of the Vatican and returned home, only to retrace his steps when the cardinal threatened him with jail as well.

Diana and the Hunt, Domenichino, 1617-1618, Galleria Borghese, Rome

But most horrific of all was his alleged blackmailing of Caravaggio. After over three years on the run due to an unfortunate brawl that left him with blood on his hands and a price on his head, Caravaggio was desperate to return to Rome. As his doting uncle the Pope had recently conferred on him the title of Grand Penitentiary, it was well within Cardinal Borghese's power to pardon Caravaggio, but for months he kept the tortured artist guessing. When the pardon finally came, the 'grateful' Caravaggio sent Scipione a David with the Head of Goliath as gesture of  'thanks'. But Caravaggio wasn't long for this world, and it was on his journey back to Rome that he died, most likely of malaria or fever (although his body was never found), and Scipione snapped up his last two available works to round out his collection.

David with the Head of Goliath, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1609-1610, Galleria Borghese, Rome

None of these works are the subject of the Borghese Gallery's new exhibition of course, but to me, the way they were acquired caused the Borghese family to acrue some karmic dept that would be paid back about 200 years later to a short Frenchman with an even greater sense of entitlement than Scipione Borghese, if possible. Part 2 to come tomorrow...

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Liked it? Then share:

Tweet

Save on Delicious

Seen in Rome: Graffiti Medusa

A strikingly familiar image caught my eye while out running errands in Trastevere this afternoon.

I had to stop for a closer look.

Now, where have I seen this before? Oh, yes.

Caravaggio's Medusa shield, Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence



Photo sources: 1, 2: by author; 3

Tweet

Save on Delicious