Last Years,
1606-10
Caravaggio Exhibit
at Capodimonte
The reason I almost never go to art shows
can be traced back many, many years to an episode that
gave me an inferiority complex about such things. I had
been dragged to some intellectual Russian film by a
delightful young woman, an art student and painter. In the
course of the film, I ventured an aesthetic opinion on a
scene: "That's really pretty," I whispered. She glanced
around in the darkened theater to see how I had managed to
conceal my turnip truck and sniffed, "Look at those
colors. They're all washed out—but you wouldn't understand that." (If you are
reading these lines, dear Nike, I sincerely hope you
have been well and happy all these years, but you sure
knew how to hurt a guy.)
So, from this one very non-art person's
perspective, the Caravaggio exhibit running through
January at the Capodimonte museum is spectacular. On
display are a great number of the works of Michelangelo
Merisi (1571-1610) (called "Caravaggio" after the town
of his birth in Lombardy) done during the last four
years of his life, some of which he spent in Naples.
Also, there are some works only attributed to him by
those qualified to make such judgments, and an
interesting few examples of antique copies of his
paintings, the originals of which have since been lost.
I have read that a contemporary criticism of
Caravaggio was that he had "abandoned beauty for mere
likeness." The assumption there, I suppose, is that the
stylistic exaggerations of the Baroque—known as
"mannerism"—were necessary to soften the cruelty of
crucifixion, flagellation, martyrdom and beheadings;
thus, one might focus on the higher beauty or truth, the
omnipresence of God.
There are certainly no veils of mannerism in the realism
of Caravaggio; no one is smiling beatifically while
being tormented and, amidst all the startling use of
light, certainly no one is wearing a halo. I have read,
too, that such photographic realism was in keeping with
the aspirations of the Counter Reformation. If the
Reformation brought God closer to the people by removing
the intercession of Popes and saints, the Catholic
Counter Reformation could at least get closer to the
people by letting one such as Caravaggio paint
historical episodes in the Christian faith as real and
as vigorous as they must have been and thus show the
common and earthy humanity of the apostles and saints.
The only Caravaggio
painting that I really like, in the sense that it
gives me joy to look at it, is not on display. At the
prodigious age of 16 he did a portrait of himself as a
young Bacchus (photo, right). The face is unwrinkled
and full of the future. Yet, 22 years later,
Caravaggio's last self-portrait (photo at top) —on
display at Capodimonte and the signature ad for the
exhibit throughout Naples— is of himself as the
severed head of Goliath, eyes dead yet half-open,
staring into nothing. It is a figure of one very
beat-up and defeated 38-year-old with nothing left to
give. It is so revealing and so candid that you are
embarrassed to look.
Psychohistories and details of Caravaggio's
life are freely available. He was an orphan and started
work as an apprentice to a stone-mason. He fled from
Rome to Naples to avoid execution for murder. He went to
Malta to seek patronage. There he was imprisoned for
insulting a "gentleman". He escaped and fled back to
Naples, where hired thugs tracked him down and
disfigured his face. He was arrested many times for
fighting and general disorderly conduct in public. He
was clearly not at home in an age when great talent had
no recourse but to beg patronage and protection from the
wealthy. He left Naples for Rome in 1610 and died on the
way, ill and alone. His contemporary, Giovanni Baglione,
said that Caravaggio died "...badly, as badly as he had
lived."
(2014
update -- see "Kill
Caravaggio!") (2018 -- also see this box insert
in Neapolitan Painting.)
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