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‘The Story of Patient Griselda, Part II’ by Master of the Story of Griselda. |
Sublime saints and sinners
Renaissance spirituality sets Gerald Isaaman thinking about the art of our own troubled age
THE last exhibition in London of the Renaissance art of Siena was in 1904. Indeed, it was an important revival since the centuries before that Siena had generally become forgotten, downtrodden and ignored.
That was despite John Ruskin’s insistence that “Siena is worth 50 times Florence” and the passionate declaration of Edward Burne-Jones, “Siena has captivated my heart” – two English voices that recognised Siena’s supreme artistry.
Now Siena, which officially called itself the City of the Virgin, is back with us, at the National Gallery, no less, and what is remarkable is that it now returns triumphantly after a century of wars, disasters and cultural mayhem that has replaced any kind of artistic discipline from the past.
Today our art is all jagged and introspective, full of boobs and bums and allegedly sensational sex, lacking fine lines and any finesse in a brutalised view of the world given over to celebrity shocks and sensations, true or imaginary, public dismay and an inherent distrust of politicians and the democratic process.
Strangely, Siena of the past went through equally turbulent times in the 14th century, in particular the Black Death and the fight for its own independence, the search for power shaking its own foundations.
Yet, strangely too, the idea of the city state, the ripening republic, produced a civic mortar that bound together the population in manifestations of belief, hope, pride and, above all, serene and immaculate beauty.
Out of all that hubbub came a shining spirituality and love of religion whereby any signs of a salacious nature were wiped out by the magnificence of the art, which is now back on show in London.
And you feel you wish the world was pure like this once again as the saints – and the sinners – step down from being exalted altar pieces to join the hectic, secular world.
Of course Siena’s birth struggle wasn’t sublime at all. But the art itself spreads a sublime glow over the exhibits, their devout intensity, design and dominant, gorgeous colours that delights and lifts you out of any gloom that London and the blanket of 24-hour Tower of Babel negative news battering casts over us all.
The paintings are sensational in the loveliness, undoubtedly proving that cities do speak through their art, as well as their parliaments, albeit that that the Bible is here the central focus.
The horses prance, the buglers play, and the flags wave in the background as the faces from an arcane past lift their eyes to speak to us.
And all those golden virgins pray for our forgiveness amid a sea of men in taught tights with weapons resplendent.
Many may not now agree with or wish to dispute their mission and their magical medieval message. Nevertheless, it’s quite something this delusion with God.
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