I am indebted for much of the information in this article to the wonderful book Renaissance Art in Venice: From Tradition to Individualism by Tom Nichols. It is for this reason that all of the works examined below are Venetian. While this is a rather limited scope, I believe the trends are shared by Renaissance art as a whole, and the fact that many of these artists were not Venetian is to me indicative of this.
I’ve written elsewhere on this site about the transition from the medieval to the Renaissance worldview. The story, as presented by the Russian philosophers Nikolai Berdyaev and Pavel Florensky, is that the Renaissance saw a turning away from the theocentric world understanding of the Middle Ages towards an emphasis on the human being, and this process ultimately culminated in mass secularization of culture and the atheism, individualism, and scientific materialism that is so rampant today. Of course, the Renaissance did not represent a break from religion or religious values as such, but rather marks the shifting of the cultural eye away from a direct view of the heavens and to the visage of humanity. So long as humanity was seen as in relation to God, as a member of a unified creation, this released a great deal of human potential and resulted in a flowering of art, philosophy, architecture, and so on that expressed some of the deepest truths of both religion and humanity. Nevertheless, the Renaissance marks the beginning of a fissure that grew into a schism between the sacred and the human.
At least, this is how the narrative presented by such thinkers runs. Yet one can find much evidence of this transition in the artwork of the Italian Renaissance, and by comparing works in the late-Gothic style to those that have absorbed the values and techniques of the Renaissance, the shifting gaze of culture may be detected. Take, for instance, this altarpiece by Antonio Vivarini and Giovanni d’Alemagna:
There are a number of things to take note of here, all of which run counter to the more naturalistic, perspective-driven art that was dawning on the horizon. First, and most obvious, is the massive frame that encases the figures and structures the space around them. This multileveled structure is evocative of a heavenly hierarchy, and the radiance of its gold coloring causes it to shine forth with an apparently internal luminosity. This light is reflected by the backgrounds behind the painted figures, moreover, and there is a powerful sense of otherworldliness. The images of this altarpiece are not extensions of the viewer’s space, and there is no attempt at perspective whatever. Even the statues in the niches and those atop the pinnacles do not assert themselves within the space and appear integrated into the larger structure. Indeed, this piece is very similar to forms of Eastern iconography, in which the heavenly space occupied by the figures appears to break into the space of the viewer, disrupting it and acting as a bridge between the earthly and the heavenly.
The altar piece above was created in 1443. Now let us turn to a piece completed around 1480 to see how radically things were already beginning to shift. Below is an altarpiece painted by Giovanni Bellini, one of the great Renaissance painters of Venice.
One is immediately struck by the differences between this style and the older characteristics of the Gothic. For one, the use of perspective and naturalistic forms has created a remarkably lifelike illusion of an extension of the viewers space. The figures are also quite different, as they represent realistic, one might even say “scientific,” representations of the figures. Incredible attention is given to the fabrics, stones, the reflection of light in water, anatomy, and proportions within the image to create a powerful sense of presence, but of a very different kind from that seen in the 1443 altarpiece. Nevertheless, this image includes many pre-Renaissance elements and uses the naturalism of its composition to emphasize traditional religious values. The spiritual hierarchy remains, for instance, as the image as a whole is placed above eye-level and Christ and Mary are enthroned higher than the other figures, who gather around in prayer and supplication. There is thus a sense of detachment and heavenly peace emanating from the painting, and this is further emphasized by features such as the calm, even blissful, face of Saint Sebastian (to the right) despite his being pierced by arrows.
To see the transition from the medieval to the Renaissance points of view in greater force, we must look even further. Below is an altarpiece painted by Titian between 1519 and 1526.
There is a sense in which the spiritual hierarchy has been maintained, as the Virgin and Christ are still seated above the other figures, but the movement of the piece points downward to the lefthand figure via the gazes of both the Virgin and Saint Peter below her as well as the group praying to the right. This figure, who gathers all the gazes to become the center of the painting’s movement, is in fact the man who commissioned the piece, Jacobo Pesaro. While maintaining the outward forms of older religious reverence, then, this painting largely serves its patron. Even the selection of saints placed in the portrait are likely chosen for the sake of Pesaro, who was a military commander known for his service among the papal forces. Thus the inclusion of Saint Peter represents a connection to Rome, and the inclusion of the armored Saint Maurice to the left (who is holding a flag with the papal arms) indicates the patrons military exploits. If the altarpiece of Giovanni Bellini used naturalism to emphasize more medieval religious values and structure, Titian’s painting employs the same naturalist technique to emphasize the individual, in this case the wealthy patron who commissioned the painting.
Other examples of similar phenomena in the realm of depictions of Venetian politicians can be seen in two related works. The first, by Giovani Bellini’s brother Gentile, completed around 1480, depicts Doge Giovanni Mocenigo:
Despite having some naturalistic elements, the painting remains true to the traditional type used for the depiction of the doges. The figure is set in profile and depicts the figure without idealization or glossing of his physical features. The man is hardly imposing, a choice of depiction that emphasizes the humility of the office, which was taken to be one of service to the larger community. This is further reflected in the beauty and detail of clothing and the ducal horn, which contrast with the ordinariness of the man himself. Some scholars (e.g., Tom Nichols) have suggested that the coloration of the background may be meant to recall the gold leaf of religious imagery to emphasize the sacred office of the dogeship. Thus, the religious and communal elements of the painting are at the fore, and the individual is placed in a relatively humble position.
Turning again to Titian, we find a rather different take on doge portraiture.
This image was painted around 1548 to 1550 and depicts Doge Andrea Gritti. One is immediately struck by the imposing size of the figure, who seems to swell under his garments to fill the scene. The expression, too, creates a feeling of intimidation. One is impressed with a sense of the regal authority and power of the individual depicted. Gone is the humble servant to communal and religious values. Instead, we have an individual dominating the field of vision and imposing his will in striking fashion.
One can also trace this transition in the sculpture from this period. Below is a carving of Adam and Eve from the mid-fourteenth century on the façade of Venice’s ducal palace. Note how the figures are understated, remaining relatively flush to the surface of the building, thus maintaining the continuity of the structure. This continuity is further maintained by the lack of variation in the position of the limbs. The figures do not assert themselves within the space but remain integrated within it.
Quite different is Donatello’s statue of the mercenary Gattamelata carved a hundred years later. Here the individual dominates, capturing the three-dimensional space entirely and asserting power and dominance through the heroic casting of the figure’s presence.
What should be clear is that while the values depicted in these pieces vary, the general trend towards a naturalistic, even scientific, perspective is prevalent, as is the increasing emphasis on the human dimension of expression. Each of the more modern pieces shown above reveal increasingly three-dimensional and assertive figures, figures who occupy extensions of the space of the viewer rather than drawing the viewer into an a heavenly space. Looking at such paintings, one can begin to see through the eyes of historical cultures and watch as that eye shifts its point of view from looking toward the heavenly down to the earthly. There is much beauty to discover there and often the heavenly finds its place among the relatively naturalistic gaze. But one can see how if this trend were to continue too far, the danger of a fracturing in the world understanding of humanity may begin to loom, and it is precisely this fracture that figures such as Berdyaev and Florensky saw as nascent in this cultural moment.