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拍品專文
Once forming part of a larger polyptych, this vivid depiction of Saints John the Baptist and Paul is remarkable not only for its iconography, but for its unprecedented innovation in defining pictorial space. The painting has been ascribed to the celebrated Florentine painter, Bernardo Daddi since the mid-1970s on the basis of its characteristic style, the tooled halos and the geometric design of the floor. The quality of the painting is unquestionable and it is stylistically consistent with Daddi’s output. Yet the emotion conveyed by the two saints, a nervous energy and a certain urgency in their expressions, runs counter to the distinct serenity of Daddi’s figures. Miklós Boskovits therefore proposed an alternate attribution, suggesting it may be the work of the highly gifted artist known as Stefano Fiorentino, grandson of the great master, Giotto.
The polyptych to which the panel originally belonged likely comprised a large central panel with four lateral compartments. From the direction of the figures’ poses, it seems this wing would have been positioned to the right of the central panel, with both saints facing inward and upward toward its subject. Precisely what that central theme might have been is not known, but the relationship between it and the present panel is retained in the saints’ gestures and impassioned expressions, creating a sense of narrative and dialogue. Saint John the Baptist points with his right hand, a gesture indicating a depiction of Christ, perhaps a Christ in Glory, a Madonna and Child or a Coronation of the Virgin. Some have proposed that Saint Paul’s gesturing pose, leaning forward with both hands outstretched expectantly, suggests the central subject may have been a Christ in Majesty consigning the scriptures to Saint Paul. If that was indeed the case, in keeping with the theme of the Traditio legis, the panel to the left of center would likely have shown the Virgin and Saint Peter.
The two figures are depicted with an unusual, almost portrait-like, naturalism, acutely observed and shown in full profile The faces are modeled with remarkable sensibility and their expressions are insistent. Rather than adhering to tradition in the depiction of Saint Paul, showing him in red and green drapery with a long beard and holding the sword with which he was martyred, here the apostle wears a pale pink mantle, has a neat, short beard and holds no attribute.
Most striking, however, is the panel’s affiliation with the lost outermost wing to its left. Behind Saint John, emerging from beyond the picture field at right and reaching up into shoulders of the relief, is a slender and elaborately decorated trumpet. The presence of this trumpet suggests the far-right compartment of the polyptych would have depicted music-making angels, perhaps also mirrored in the far-left section. The white metal used to describe the instrument has since tarnished with age but would originally have shimmered brightly against the gold background. At its top, the present panel retains its original, gabled framing element, but the exposed wood at the lower edge would have been covered by an engaged frame and the panels divided with vertical columns, culminating at the shoulders of the trefoil arch. Despite the 'physical' boundary of the column, the trumpet device crossed behind the frame, bridging the space between the two neighboring wings. The aforementioned dialogue between wings of a polyptych was not new in itself. Giotto was the first painter to unify separate compartments in order to create a large combined scene, which he masterfully achieved in the Baroncelli Polyptych of circa 1334 in the church of Santa Croce, Florence (fig. 1). The presence of the trumpet here, however, crossing from one panel to the other, is an extraordinary leap of innovation.
Federico Zeri was first to propose the painting’s attribution to Bernardo Daddi in a letter dated 15 February 1975. The scholar linked this panel to the groundbreaking altarpiece of 1357, commissioned by Tommaso di Rossello Strozzi from Andrea Cione, called Orcagna, for the family chapel in Santa Maria Novella, Florence (fig. 2). Given the compositional and iconographic similarities between the two, Zeri suggested Cioni had based his Strozzi Altarpiece on the polyptych to which the present panel once belonged. Zeri’s attribution was accepted by most modern scholars, along with his dating of the panel to the 1330s. Similar attempts to unify the pictorial space can be found in Daddi’s early works, such as the Tabernacle in the Courtauld Institute Art Galleries, London, which is dated 1338. The free-hand punching and elegantly incised decoration of the halos was carefully examined by Erling Skaug (loc. cit.), who concluded that Saints John the Baptist and Paul must be an early work by Bernardo Daddi. Much of the decoration is incised, with only a single punch tool—a five-pointed asterisk—used to delineate the outer edge of the halos. According to Skaug’s research, this punch tool was used only in Bernardo Daddi’s earlier paintings, dating from the 1320s to 1333. The trefoil arched frame further supports this date. The trefoil design mimics that employed by Giotto for the Stefaneschi Altarpiece, now in the Pinacoteca Vaticana, Rome, and was considered outdated by the 1340s. The altarpiece would therefore predate Cioni’s Strozzi Altarpiece by two decades, making its innovation all the more astonishing.
Daniela Parenti, Andrea De Marchi and Jochen Sander place the painting later, closer in date to the Strozzi Altarpiece (loc. cit.). Boskovits had initially agreed with the attribution to Daddi but found the later date more convincing and was unable to reconcile this panel with Daddi’s later works. He therefore proposed a different hand altogether, that of the enigmatic, Stefano Fiorentino. Stefano was recorded by Filippo Baldinucci (1624-1696) as the son of Giotto’s daughter, Caterina, and her husband, the painter Ricco di Lapo (F. Baldinucci, Notizie dei professori del disegno da Cimabue in qua, F. Ranalli ed., Florence, 1854, pp. 123, 212-213). Along with his brother, Bartolo, Stefano was active as a painter by 1333 and, a year before his death in 1350, was included in a list of Florence’s six most exceptional painters (for the document in the State Archives, Pistoia, see A. Ladis, Taddeo Gaddi, Columbia MO, 1982, p. 257). Though his virtuosity as a painter seems to have been well established during his lifetime and in the centuries following, the only work ascribed to Stefano known to modern scholars was his frescoed Assumption of the Virgin in the Camposanto, Pisa. The Camposanto was sadly destroyed during bombardments in the Second World War and only photographs of the fresco survive, making a reconstruction of Stefano’s oeuvre all the more challenging. The photographs were used, however, as a basis for attributing several frescos to Stefano, including a section of decoration in the abbey church at Chiaravalle Milanese, which is by the same hand as the Pisan fresco.
The polyptych to which the panel originally belonged likely comprised a large central panel with four lateral compartments. From the direction of the figures’ poses, it seems this wing would have been positioned to the right of the central panel, with both saints facing inward and upward toward its subject. Precisely what that central theme might have been is not known, but the relationship between it and the present panel is retained in the saints’ gestures and impassioned expressions, creating a sense of narrative and dialogue. Saint John the Baptist points with his right hand, a gesture indicating a depiction of Christ, perhaps a Christ in Glory, a Madonna and Child or a Coronation of the Virgin. Some have proposed that Saint Paul’s gesturing pose, leaning forward with both hands outstretched expectantly, suggests the central subject may have been a Christ in Majesty consigning the scriptures to Saint Paul. If that was indeed the case, in keeping with the theme of the Traditio legis, the panel to the left of center would likely have shown the Virgin and Saint Peter.
The two figures are depicted with an unusual, almost portrait-like, naturalism, acutely observed and shown in full profile The faces are modeled with remarkable sensibility and their expressions are insistent. Rather than adhering to tradition in the depiction of Saint Paul, showing him in red and green drapery with a long beard and holding the sword with which he was martyred, here the apostle wears a pale pink mantle, has a neat, short beard and holds no attribute.
Most striking, however, is the panel’s affiliation with the lost outermost wing to its left. Behind Saint John, emerging from beyond the picture field at right and reaching up into shoulders of the relief, is a slender and elaborately decorated trumpet. The presence of this trumpet suggests the far-right compartment of the polyptych would have depicted music-making angels, perhaps also mirrored in the far-left section. The white metal used to describe the instrument has since tarnished with age but would originally have shimmered brightly against the gold background. At its top, the present panel retains its original, gabled framing element, but the exposed wood at the lower edge would have been covered by an engaged frame and the panels divided with vertical columns, culminating at the shoulders of the trefoil arch. Despite the 'physical' boundary of the column, the trumpet device crossed behind the frame, bridging the space between the two neighboring wings. The aforementioned dialogue between wings of a polyptych was not new in itself. Giotto was the first painter to unify separate compartments in order to create a large combined scene, which he masterfully achieved in the Baroncelli Polyptych of circa 1334 in the church of Santa Croce, Florence (fig. 1). The presence of the trumpet here, however, crossing from one panel to the other, is an extraordinary leap of innovation.
Federico Zeri was first to propose the painting’s attribution to Bernardo Daddi in a letter dated 15 February 1975. The scholar linked this panel to the groundbreaking altarpiece of 1357, commissioned by Tommaso di Rossello Strozzi from Andrea Cione, called Orcagna, for the family chapel in Santa Maria Novella, Florence (fig. 2). Given the compositional and iconographic similarities between the two, Zeri suggested Cioni had based his Strozzi Altarpiece on the polyptych to which the present panel once belonged. Zeri’s attribution was accepted by most modern scholars, along with his dating of the panel to the 1330s. Similar attempts to unify the pictorial space can be found in Daddi’s early works, such as the Tabernacle in the Courtauld Institute Art Galleries, London, which is dated 1338. The free-hand punching and elegantly incised decoration of the halos was carefully examined by Erling Skaug (loc. cit.), who concluded that Saints John the Baptist and Paul must be an early work by Bernardo Daddi. Much of the decoration is incised, with only a single punch tool—a five-pointed asterisk—used to delineate the outer edge of the halos. According to Skaug’s research, this punch tool was used only in Bernardo Daddi’s earlier paintings, dating from the 1320s to 1333. The trefoil arched frame further supports this date. The trefoil design mimics that employed by Giotto for the Stefaneschi Altarpiece, now in the Pinacoteca Vaticana, Rome, and was considered outdated by the 1340s. The altarpiece would therefore predate Cioni’s Strozzi Altarpiece by two decades, making its innovation all the more astonishing.
Daniela Parenti, Andrea De Marchi and Jochen Sander place the painting later, closer in date to the Strozzi Altarpiece (loc. cit.). Boskovits had initially agreed with the attribution to Daddi but found the later date more convincing and was unable to reconcile this panel with Daddi’s later works. He therefore proposed a different hand altogether, that of the enigmatic, Stefano Fiorentino. Stefano was recorded by Filippo Baldinucci (1624-1696) as the son of Giotto’s daughter, Caterina, and her husband, the painter Ricco di Lapo (F. Baldinucci, Notizie dei professori del disegno da Cimabue in qua, F. Ranalli ed., Florence, 1854, pp. 123, 212-213). Along with his brother, Bartolo, Stefano was active as a painter by 1333 and, a year before his death in 1350, was included in a list of Florence’s six most exceptional painters (for the document in the State Archives, Pistoia, see A. Ladis, Taddeo Gaddi, Columbia MO, 1982, p. 257). Though his virtuosity as a painter seems to have been well established during his lifetime and in the centuries following, the only work ascribed to Stefano known to modern scholars was his frescoed Assumption of the Virgin in the Camposanto, Pisa. The Camposanto was sadly destroyed during bombardments in the Second World War and only photographs of the fresco survive, making a reconstruction of Stefano’s oeuvre all the more challenging. The photographs were used, however, as a basis for attributing several frescos to Stefano, including a section of decoration in the abbey church at Chiaravalle Milanese, which is by the same hand as the Pisan fresco.