The National Gallery goes ‘Beyond Caravaggio’ placing a sexy milestone in master’s career

Regretfully, we shall never have the pleasure of viewing, ‘Caravaggio: The Late Works’. Would we have seen something akin to late Titian, Rubens or Rembrandt? Given an ingenious and imaginative leap in time – the elderly Caravaggio may well have developed his predilection for the narrative, and scenarios of the human condition. Was Francis Bacon his future doppelgänger?

 

‘Beyond Caravaggio’ will be a much-anticipated celebration of one of the undoubted geniuses of the European painting canon. It constitutes a survey of, mostly, group portraiture, presenting 49 paintings, including seven from Caravaggio himself. The selection explores his influence on European religious and genre painting. This theme, expertly researched and curated by Letizia Treves and her team, has not been realised in the UK before. Some older visitors may recall the ‘Painting in Naples: From Caravaggio to Giordano’ exhibition at the Royal Academy in 1982, which presented six of Caravaggio’s works from his two periods of exile in Napoli. So, well over a quarter of a century later, this is a welcome review of Caravaggio’s achievements, albeit in a broader geographical context.

 

Because of Caravaggio’s short career, the thematic approach, or ‘group show’ to use a modern term, is (realistically) the only way to consider Caravaggio in a survey. As stated by Letizia Treves herself: “The inspiration for this exhibition came from wanting to display these paintings alongside others by Caravaggio’s followers, and to demonstrate the extraordinary breadth and range of his influence on a whole generation of painters.”

 

This aim was achieved by presenting the selection in seven galleries that, whilst thematically arranged, linked together seamlessly. Each space was appropriately lit with typically Caravaggesque lighting and, from Caravaggio’s, ‘Boy Peeling Fruit’ (c.1592-3), and the memorable, ‘Boy bitten by a Lizard’ (1594-5) in Room 1, to the brooding teenager who represents ‘Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness’ (c.1603-4) in Room 7, a varied range of narrative subject matters are presented. These included card players and musicians, a philosopher and his pupils, plus various saints and sinners. Men and women of all ages, for example, Giovanni Battista Caracciolo’s, ‘Sleeping Cupid’ (c.1618) and Jusepe de Ribera’s astonishing, ‘Saint Onuphrius’ of 1630 (?), could represent the physical and psychological contrasts of young and old age. All share, to varying degrees, the visual humour and/or psychological profundity available to explore with the effects of chiaroscuro and narrative invention.

 

Visitors who want to see more by Caravaggio may be expecting some disappointment, but this is not the purpose of the show; and an excuse to visit, say, the Church of San Luigi dei Francesci in Rome to see, ‘The Inspiration of Saint Matthew’ in the Contarelli Chapel, would be a pilgrimage worth making. The obligation to make the effort to travel afar to see original works, as opposed to reproductions, was demonstrated by the availability of press releases in Italian, Spanish, Dutch, French and German. We also overheard conversations in Italian, French and Russian (and American English), which enhanced the sense of occasion at the press launch in a truly international context – despite the recent Brexit decision that currently haunts the UK.

 

So compelling is Caravaggio’s work that just seeing, ‘The Taking of Christ’ (1602), a rediscovered painting on loan from the National Gallery of Ireland, made the visit worthwhile from any corner of Europe. This relatively large oil painting, created when the artist was just 31, ostensibly portrays a balding Judas about to kiss Christ. This moment of betrayal is framed within the composition, just to the left of centre, by the crimson sweep of cloth above their heads and the yellow and black arms of Judas and the armour clad soldier, who each reach out to him for different reasons. Beneath these three figures, Christ’s interlocked fingers suggest quiet despair as, spatially, they virtually hover in the spectator’s space. Only expert observation of the human form could produce such convincing physiognomic accuracy. It is thought that the young man on the far right hand side of the composition, holding up a lamp, is the artist himself. These lanterns were important (Caravaggio never used candles to illuminate his subjects) as he painted from close observation of the figure. On the left of the horizontal arrangement of heads, another young male, Saint John, gesticulates with his right hand and, perhaps, calls out for divine intervention, beyond the confines of the canvas edge. Although there is a posed stillness about the composition, the implication of a film-still is suggested by a strong sense of lateral movement from right to left. This implies an unfolding and developing narrative that fulfills the expectations of the biblical story.

 

This visual trick of projection out of the picture plane towards the viewer is already well known to regular National Gallery visitors from Caravaggio’s, ‘The Supper at Emmaus’ (1601). The elbow of the figure on the left-hand side of the composition threatens to take an eye out, and the hand of the old man on the left repeats the same protrusion into the viewer’s space. In the centre, a bowl of fruit perches precariously on the table’s edge – which in itself is an impressive example of trompe l’oeil painting.

 

Although he makes a gesture with his right hand, Jesus himself is the still-centre of this almost domestic scene. In a modern context, this image was re-vitalised by John Berger in his ‘Ways of Seeing’ television series in 1972. Not only did Berger admire Caravaggio for his inclusion of the poor in the developing subjects of European art (particularly from a political point of view): “Caravaggio was the first painter of life as experienced by the ‘popolaccio’, the people of the back streets, ‘les sans-culottes’, the lumpenproletariat, the lower orders, those of the lower depths, the underworld.”, but he also drew our attention to the sexually ambivalent appearance of Christ in this work as, unusually, Jesus is clean-shaven and somewhat effeminate. As with many great paintings, the readings and understandings of them will sustain looking, interpretation and discussion for a very long time.

 

Another painting worthy of especial mention is Artemisia Gentileschi’s, ‘Susannah and the Elders’ (1622) in room 4. The RA show mentioned earlier had included ‘Judith beheading Holofernes’ (from the Galleria Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples), which depicts one of the most gruesome subject matters in the history of art. In its own way, this other major work by this highly talented painter (proving that gender is no barrier to artistic excellence – only cultural and social attitudes repress this kind of genius) encompasses the horror and depravity of rape. A ‘Rape of the Sabine Women’, the ‘Rape of Lucretia’, or the ‘Rape of Europa’, normally provided the vehicle for this category of subject matter. But Gentileschi’s personal experience of this deplorable act is subtly depicted in this painting. For example, the slight but just about noticeable adjustments, the pentimenti, seen in the composition, reveal more than an intriguing aspect of the process of making the painting. For example, the altered leg that closes her legs a little tighter; or the emptier space above Sussanah, as the purple cloaked Elder is shifted more to one side, adds a little more unprotected vulnerability to the beautiful but pensive expression of this victim.

 

By chance, the London based Dutch artist, Marcelle Hanselaar, was viewing this painting when we returned for a second look at one of the highlights of the show. She was attending the press preview for her gallery in Belgium, De Queeste Art, and we engaged in a brief but rewarding conversation about the obvious narrative of the subject matter, if you know of the original story of ‘Susannah and the Elders’ from the Book of Daniel. We suggested that a contemporary audience could relate to the imagery quite easily without knowledge of its literary background as the impact of this painting seems quite modern, as it reinforces notions of naked female beauty to serve the so-called, ‘male gaze’.

 

Marcelle responded by saying that, “As all the paintings in this show have a strong narrative element, and I agree it doesn’t really matter if you know the story on which it is based – and besides the Susannah and the Elders story, like all stories in the Old Testament, are timeless stories. The seeing of women just as a body, to grope or touch in whatever way is still, regretfully, for many men a totally acceptable stance, the excuse being that the woman and beauty is the cause for their temptation.”

 

We further suggested that, considering how unrepresented female artists are in the history of art, this painting matches the qualities of most of the other work in this exhibition; and also, that Gentileschi could be the Patron Saint of Women artists?

Marcelle: “Well I do not think we need a patron saint for Women Artists. Artemisia was no saint either, but what is important is that she is a damn good painter. And that the myth, still rearing its head, as Georg Baselitz has apparently claimed, that women don’t paint as well as men, is total nonsense. I love it that Artemisia then, and many female painters today, make the point by being good, skillful and inventive painters in which the question of gender is totally irrelevant.”

 

We also pondered, that to some extent, Gentileschi channeled her anger from her own rape, by her tutor Agostina Tassi, into her professional work – especially in this particular painting. Therefore, she has the last laugh in a sense, as her work can hang alongside Caravaggio – and that gender may not be so important?

 

Marcelle: “Yes the channeling of anger, frustration, and the need to be heard, truly seen etc. are strong motives and subject matter for female painters – and having a sense of humour in how to get that last laugh!”

 

Marcelle also agreed that the dominant aspect of narratives and everyday (profane) life – in contrast to religious subject matter – is clear in this show. To us, this linked to her own, but more open and flexible imagery, such as in, ‘Adoration in the Wilderness’ (2013) that was recently shown at Jessica Carlisle. She responded by commenting that: “I recently finished a painting, ‘Woman with Smiley’, which also illustrates what we discussed before, the anger, frustration and the expectation, our own and of society, of what we are expected to be.”

 

This one example by Gentileschi demonstrated the contemporary nature of the exhibition, despite up to nearly 450 years of history separating us from the various narratives that are encompassed by Caravaggio and his followers. There is so much to see and reflect upon – including that never-to-be realised, Late Works show.

 

Note: For those who cannot see this exhibition in London, the show travels to the National Gallery of Ireland in Dublin (11 February – 14 May 2017) and the Royal Scottish Academy at the Scottish National Gallery, Edinburgh (17 June – 24 September 2017).

November 25, 2020