unreadable expression. On the table is a basket of damaged fruit that recalls Caravaggioâs earlier still life. Bellori complained that the figs and pomegranates were out of season for the meal that would have taken place in the spring.
Itâs the bright, redemptive aftermath of The Taking of Christ , which Caravaggio also did for the Mattei family, and which is believed to have hung in the palace together with The Supper at Emmaus . In many ways evocative of The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew , it, too, offers a searing vision of chaos and grief that focuses on the perversely intimate bond between the betrayed and his betrayer. Itâs another turbulent crowd scene, but here there is no architecture, no background; the figures filling the picture space could hardly be jammed in more tightly. Wearing a visored helmet and dark armor, the soldier seizing Jesus commands the center of the painting. Reaching across Judas to get at Jesus, whom Judas is embracing, the soldier seems to be grabbing them both at once, or else sandwiching Judas between himself and Jesus.
Inscribed on Christâs and Judasâs pained faces is the perfect comprehension of everything that this kiss will mean for themselves, and for mankind. At the far left, fleeing in terror, is an older version of the boy who ran from Matthewâs murder, and on the right, Caravaggio himself makes another appearance as a witness, though now without the distress he showed over Matthewâs killing. This time his face is lit by the glow of sheer curiosity, as well as by the lamp he holds, illuminating the scene. Heâs just trying to see whatâs going on. And really, why should it matter if the light from his lamp enables the soldiers to find their man, the one whom Judas is kissing? The artist is showing us what God ordained; there is no way he could have changed that.
These works, along with a third religious painting Caravaggio did during this periodâa remarkably clinical and graphic Doubting Thomas in which the skeptical apostle is shown accepting Christâs invitation to probe, with his finger, the wound in Jesusâs sideâmust have been satisfying for their creator. By deploying his technical virtuosity and his amazing gift for rendering the psychology of a spiritual drama, he had been able to please his audience without compromising his vision.
This was highly unlike his experience with the Contarelli and Cerasi Chapels. The pressures and complications surrounding his public commissions had been, and would continue to be, very different from the circumstances under which he worked for the appreciative private patrons who competed among themselves to acquire his latest efforts.
In the winter of 1602 , Caravaggio signed a contract to paint Saint Matthew being inspired by an angel. The painting was to hang in the space between the two that he had already done for the Contarelli Chapel, in the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi.
In the first version Caravaggio submitted, Matthewâelderly, stocky, barefoot, bearded, nearly baldâsits cross-legged in a chair, holding an open book in his lap. His forehead wrinkles with strain as he peers at the Hebrew letters. A winged, androgynous, diaphanously clad angel leans over his shoulder, gently resting his slim fingertips on the back of Matthewâs rough meat hook of a hand.
The painting was summarily rejected by the Fathers of San Luigi, evidently because Matthew looked more like a laborer who might have built the church than any accepted or acceptable portrait of the apostle who helped found it. By contrast, the adjacent images of the saint as the startled tax collector and the murdered (or about to be murdered) priest look aristocratic and patrician. According to Bellori, the painting was taken down because the priests claimed that the figure, with his crossed legs and his feet rudely exposed to the public, had neither the appearance nor the decorum of a saint.
Only the bare
Itâs the bright, redemptive aftermath of The Taking of Christ , which Caravaggio also did for the Mattei family, and which is believed to have hung in the palace together with The Supper at Emmaus . In many ways evocative of The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew , it, too, offers a searing vision of chaos and grief that focuses on the perversely intimate bond between the betrayed and his betrayer. Itâs another turbulent crowd scene, but here there is no architecture, no background; the figures filling the picture space could hardly be jammed in more tightly. Wearing a visored helmet and dark armor, the soldier seizing Jesus commands the center of the painting. Reaching across Judas to get at Jesus, whom Judas is embracing, the soldier seems to be grabbing them both at once, or else sandwiching Judas between himself and Jesus.
Inscribed on Christâs and Judasâs pained faces is the perfect comprehension of everything that this kiss will mean for themselves, and for mankind. At the far left, fleeing in terror, is an older version of the boy who ran from Matthewâs murder, and on the right, Caravaggio himself makes another appearance as a witness, though now without the distress he showed over Matthewâs killing. This time his face is lit by the glow of sheer curiosity, as well as by the lamp he holds, illuminating the scene. Heâs just trying to see whatâs going on. And really, why should it matter if the light from his lamp enables the soldiers to find their man, the one whom Judas is kissing? The artist is showing us what God ordained; there is no way he could have changed that.
These works, along with a third religious painting Caravaggio did during this periodâa remarkably clinical and graphic Doubting Thomas in which the skeptical apostle is shown accepting Christâs invitation to probe, with his finger, the wound in Jesusâs sideâmust have been satisfying for their creator. By deploying his technical virtuosity and his amazing gift for rendering the psychology of a spiritual drama, he had been able to please his audience without compromising his vision.
This was highly unlike his experience with the Contarelli and Cerasi Chapels. The pressures and complications surrounding his public commissions had been, and would continue to be, very different from the circumstances under which he worked for the appreciative private patrons who competed among themselves to acquire his latest efforts.
In the winter of 1602 , Caravaggio signed a contract to paint Saint Matthew being inspired by an angel. The painting was to hang in the space between the two that he had already done for the Contarelli Chapel, in the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi.
In the first version Caravaggio submitted, Matthewâelderly, stocky, barefoot, bearded, nearly baldâsits cross-legged in a chair, holding an open book in his lap. His forehead wrinkles with strain as he peers at the Hebrew letters. A winged, androgynous, diaphanously clad angel leans over his shoulder, gently resting his slim fingertips on the back of Matthewâs rough meat hook of a hand.
The painting was summarily rejected by the Fathers of San Luigi, evidently because Matthew looked more like a laborer who might have built the church than any accepted or acceptable portrait of the apostle who helped found it. By contrast, the adjacent images of the saint as the startled tax collector and the murdered (or about to be murdered) priest look aristocratic and patrician. According to Bellori, the painting was taken down because the priests claimed that the figure, with his crossed legs and his feet rudely exposed to the public, had neither the appearance nor the decorum of a saint.
Only the bare
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