MAGNIFICAT: THE ART ESSAY OF THE MONTH Resurrection (1440–1445) by Maestro dell’Osservanza (active c. 1440–1480) This Resurrection of Christ, painted by the Master of the Observance, commands attention …More
MAGNIFICAT: THE ART ESSAY OF THE MONTH
Resurrection (1440–1445) by Maestro dell’Osservanza (active c. 1440–1480)
This Resurrection of Christ, painted by the Master of the Observance, commands attention through its dramatic contrasts. A calm Christ, insulated in his aureole, drifts above stupefied soldiers: in the background, a shadowy silhouette is submerged by fiery light. It is the morning of the Resurrection: the epic battle between good and evil has been won, and in those quiet moments before dawn, we, as beholders, join the few witnesses to Christ’s final victory.
A desolate clearing sets the stage for Jesus’ return from the dead. The sentinels charged with guarding the tomb lie prostrate on the ground, their posture evincing both fear and worship, the picture of awe. Christ, enclosed in a golden cloud, floats serenely above their heads. He carries the flag of the red cross against a white ground, the symbol of his triumph over death. Jesus’ redemption of humanity brings the promise of salvation: the scattered pictorial details framing the scene underscore this gift. The golden oranges sparkling amid caliginous leaves allude to the Classical conception of paradise, while the white daisies, matching Christ’s snowy robe, represent purity: through his death and Resurrection we are renewed.
The mysterious painter of mysteries
The identity of the painter of this exquisite panel has long been debated. The title “Master of the Observance” identified him as the same artist who executed a large altarpiece for the basilica of the Franciscan Observance in Siena. Recently, art historians have proposed a young Sienese, Sano di Pietro, as the mysterious master. Enormously successful later in life, Sano di Pietro was prolific but sometimes formulaic, prompting French art critic Michel Laclotte to dismiss him as the “Sienese Walt Disney.” His youthful works, however, like this one, were dazzlingly audacious in style and technique.
The Resurrection is one of five small panels that formed the predella, or base, of a now-lost altarpiece. As happened with many altarpieces destined for sale, it was dismantled, and the individual scenes dispersed. To see Sano di Pietro’s stories of Christ’s Passion one would have to travel to the Vatican Museums, the Fogg Art Museum at Harvard, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art, while the Crucifixion scene is kept in the Khanenko Museum in Kiev. Of the five, however, the Resurrection, at the Detroit Institute of Art, reveals the most innovative use of light and the most direct engagement with the liturgy.
At first glance, night seems to dominate the panel. Jerusalem looms, an inky silhouette in the background, its shadowy arc crowned by a tower emerging from a low dome, likely an allusion to the Temple. But the reign of darkness is at an end—a light rises beyond, bright yellow and orange, as if the world has been set on fire. In the foreground, the pearlescent Christ in his golden nimbus casts a divine light over the prone soldiers, dispelling the gloom. In juxtaposing the natural light of the sky with the supernatural light of Christ, Sano di Pietro anticipated the celebrated chiaroscuro effects of Caravaggio by over a century.
This is my Body
Sano di Pietro’s most ingenious contribution to the composition was his emphasis on liturgy. Altarpieces were painted to serve as backdrops to the consecration of the Eucharist, and this little panel at the base of the work would be in closest proximity to the Body and Blood of Christ on the altar. To underscore this, the artist painted the freestanding tomb in its desert setting to resemble an altar, with its carved mensa, and its pastel streaks emulating a marble surface. The swath of scarlet on Christ’s side, highlighted by the pallor of his skin, marks the wound from the lance during his crucifixion. From this wound came a sudden flow of blood and water (Jn 19:34), which came to be understood as symbols of the sacraments. Longinus, the Roman centurion who pierced his side, kneels before Christ, his golden cuirass partially concealed under his hooded green pilgrim’s cape. The dandelions, or dents de lion, meaning “lion’s teeth,” sprouting behind him refer to the acute suffering of the Passion, caused in part by the Roman soldier. The lance glimmers below him, contrasting with the dark swords abandoned by Longinus’ former companions. Longinus’ amazement while he stood under the cross, recorded in the Gospels, returns as he witnesses the Resurrection. Eyes wide open, hands raised in prayer and thanksgiving, Longinus recalls the prophecy They will look on the one they have pierced (Zec 12:10). John the Evangelist says at the end of his Passion narrative, The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe (Jn 19:35). Together with Longinus, we gaze upon the Body of Christ, enclosed in the elongated golden disc elevated above the altar, which has been given up for us.
The dramatic gestures of the soldiers, the vivid contrasts of light and dark, form a turbulent background to the work. Christ, however, radiates tranquility. The soft glow around him is soothing to the eye, and his gentle gaze reassures the viewer that the battle is over. He holds an olive branch, sharing with the viewers the same greeting given to the apostles after the Resurrection, Peace be with you (Jn 20:19).
Writer and professor of art history in Rome, Italy.
Resurrection (1440–1445), Maestro dell’Osservanza (active c. 1440–1480), Detroit Institute of Arts, MI
Resurrection (1440–1445) by Maestro dell’Osservanza (active c. 1440–1480)
This Resurrection of Christ, painted by the Master of the Observance, commands attention through its dramatic contrasts. A calm Christ, insulated in his aureole, drifts above stupefied soldiers: in the background, a shadowy silhouette is submerged by fiery light. It is the morning of the Resurrection: the epic battle between good and evil has been won, and in those quiet moments before dawn, we, as beholders, join the few witnesses to Christ’s final victory.
A desolate clearing sets the stage for Jesus’ return from the dead. The sentinels charged with guarding the tomb lie prostrate on the ground, their posture evincing both fear and worship, the picture of awe. Christ, enclosed in a golden cloud, floats serenely above their heads. He carries the flag of the red cross against a white ground, the symbol of his triumph over death. Jesus’ redemption of humanity brings the promise of salvation: the scattered pictorial details framing the scene underscore this gift. The golden oranges sparkling amid caliginous leaves allude to the Classical conception of paradise, while the white daisies, matching Christ’s snowy robe, represent purity: through his death and Resurrection we are renewed.
The mysterious painter of mysteries
The identity of the painter of this exquisite panel has long been debated. The title “Master of the Observance” identified him as the same artist who executed a large altarpiece for the basilica of the Franciscan Observance in Siena. Recently, art historians have proposed a young Sienese, Sano di Pietro, as the mysterious master. Enormously successful later in life, Sano di Pietro was prolific but sometimes formulaic, prompting French art critic Michel Laclotte to dismiss him as the “Sienese Walt Disney.” His youthful works, however, like this one, were dazzlingly audacious in style and technique.
The Resurrection is one of five small panels that formed the predella, or base, of a now-lost altarpiece. As happened with many altarpieces destined for sale, it was dismantled, and the individual scenes dispersed. To see Sano di Pietro’s stories of Christ’s Passion one would have to travel to the Vatican Museums, the Fogg Art Museum at Harvard, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art, while the Crucifixion scene is kept in the Khanenko Museum in Kiev. Of the five, however, the Resurrection, at the Detroit Institute of Art, reveals the most innovative use of light and the most direct engagement with the liturgy.
At first glance, night seems to dominate the panel. Jerusalem looms, an inky silhouette in the background, its shadowy arc crowned by a tower emerging from a low dome, likely an allusion to the Temple. But the reign of darkness is at an end—a light rises beyond, bright yellow and orange, as if the world has been set on fire. In the foreground, the pearlescent Christ in his golden nimbus casts a divine light over the prone soldiers, dispelling the gloom. In juxtaposing the natural light of the sky with the supernatural light of Christ, Sano di Pietro anticipated the celebrated chiaroscuro effects of Caravaggio by over a century.
This is my Body
Sano di Pietro’s most ingenious contribution to the composition was his emphasis on liturgy. Altarpieces were painted to serve as backdrops to the consecration of the Eucharist, and this little panel at the base of the work would be in closest proximity to the Body and Blood of Christ on the altar. To underscore this, the artist painted the freestanding tomb in its desert setting to resemble an altar, with its carved mensa, and its pastel streaks emulating a marble surface. The swath of scarlet on Christ’s side, highlighted by the pallor of his skin, marks the wound from the lance during his crucifixion. From this wound came a sudden flow of blood and water (Jn 19:34), which came to be understood as symbols of the sacraments. Longinus, the Roman centurion who pierced his side, kneels before Christ, his golden cuirass partially concealed under his hooded green pilgrim’s cape. The dandelions, or dents de lion, meaning “lion’s teeth,” sprouting behind him refer to the acute suffering of the Passion, caused in part by the Roman soldier. The lance glimmers below him, contrasting with the dark swords abandoned by Longinus’ former companions. Longinus’ amazement while he stood under the cross, recorded in the Gospels, returns as he witnesses the Resurrection. Eyes wide open, hands raised in prayer and thanksgiving, Longinus recalls the prophecy They will look on the one they have pierced (Zec 12:10). John the Evangelist says at the end of his Passion narrative, The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe (Jn 19:35). Together with Longinus, we gaze upon the Body of Christ, enclosed in the elongated golden disc elevated above the altar, which has been given up for us.
The dramatic gestures of the soldiers, the vivid contrasts of light and dark, form a turbulent background to the work. Christ, however, radiates tranquility. The soft glow around him is soothing to the eye, and his gentle gaze reassures the viewer that the battle is over. He holds an olive branch, sharing with the viewers the same greeting given to the apostles after the Resurrection, Peace be with you (Jn 20:19).
Writer and professor of art history in Rome, Italy.
Resurrection (1440–1445), Maestro dell’Osservanza (active c. 1440–1480), Detroit Institute of Arts, MI
