The power of tradition Joseph Shaw reviews the Raphael exhibition at the National Gallery until 31 July
W
hile by no means comprehensive, this exhibition is large and logically arranged, a thorough introduction to Raphael, with something to teach even seasoned fans: it is highly recommended. We know little about Raffaello Santi (or Sanzio) (1483–1520), and the stories told about him by the great biographer of the Renaissance artists, Vasari, must be taken with a pinch of salt. He died on Good Friday at the age of 37, after two decades of intense work as a painter, also producing prints, tapestry designs, architecture, and bronzes. A long letter in his own hand has been preserved begging Pope Leo X to halt the destruction of ancient buildings and statues in Rome: they were being burnt to produce lime for cement. Pope Leo put Raphael in charge of archaeology. The exhibition makes clear a progression in Raphael’s work from the pale, brightly lit, and static early works such as the ‘Mond Crucifixion’ (1502-3), to the late ‘Madonna of the Rose’ (15167). In the latter, St Joseph, standing behind Our Lady, emerges dimly from the dark background, which contrasts with the shiningly cherubic infants, St John the Baptist and the Christ Child, on and around the Blessed Virgin Mary’s lap. Christ is grasping the scroll traditionally associated with these groupings, bearing the words ‘Ecce Agnus Dei’, which is being handed to Him by St John. The playful determination of Christ, in pulling this ribbon of parchment towards Himself, is very natural and evocative of the spirit of a young toddler. At the same time, of course, it is symbolically charged: Christ is accepting St John’s proclamation of Him as the sacrificial Lamb. This combination of realism and idealisation, and of the playful and the serious, is one of Raphael’s great gifts to Western art. At its simplest, it is on display in the intense joy and affection shown by his Madonnas
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Madonna of the Rose
towards the infant Christ: natural and authentic, and yet pointing towards something supernatural, eternal, and universal. In Raphael’s religious paintings the figures tend not to look at the viewer, but at each other, heavenwards, or—in some cases, like the Ansidei Madonna— at copies of the Scriptures. By contrast,
in many of the portraits, the sitter gazes at us directly. I felt that the personalities of Raphael’s friends, Bindo Altoviti and Baldassare Castiglione, and in a different way, of his patron Pope Julius II, impose themselves on the viewer with great intensity in these wonderful portraits, but Raphael is trying to do something different in the devotional works.
SUMMER 2022
