My Kid Could Paint That

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511 (detail of Alexander the Great)

Raphael, School of Athens (Detail), 1511

A lot of words are used to describe Pythagoras. A philosopher, mathematician, scientist, and even a mystic, Pythagoras embodied the perfection and extent to which knowledge could elevate you. Pythagoras was described by many other philosophers in his day (including Herodotus and Isocrates) as but one of few who were capable of extending the reaches of modern math and science.

Pythagoras was born on the Greek island of Samos sometime around 570 BC. Very little is known of his childhood but accounts during his time claimed him to be an avid traveler visiting places like Egypt and parts of Asia all before he hit twenty. It was after his studies away that he went to Croton and created a secret society with a new religion. However, when he involved the society with town politics, he was thrown out of the city with the meeting places burned and thus, his religious group disbanded. He lived the rest of his days in Metapontum, Greece.

His contributions to the worlds of Science and art were countless. His two most important contributions to the world of science are the Pythagorean Theorem and the Musica Universalis. The Pythagorean Theorem is a well-known formula that is required knowledge for any math course involving right triangles and geometry in general. Less known is the Musica Universalis. Pythagoras was among the first people who discovered timing and occurrence of solar eclipses and lunar eclipses saying that both occur during a lapse during this theory. The theory itself states that the sun, the moon, and the earth all move according to a harmonic plan or song. Although that that is wrong, Pythagoras was among the first to realize that the moon, sun, and earth were all set by a pattern.

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511

What an exquisite back. I'm sure, at some point in time, someone looking to get their artistic weight up said something to that effect while looking at Ptolemy in Raphael's School of Athens. In fact, someone not looking deeply would likely mistake Ptolemy as an extra, one of only a handful of purposeless people in a sea of Super Important People.

Despite this cameo-as-afterthought, Ptolemy is actually just as important as Plato or Diogenes with regards to his contributions to the academic community. Known for his theories on mathematics and astronomy, he was one of the first to publish a book theorizing the distance between the Earth and the other planets. This tome, called the Almagest, was the main point of reference for astronomers and amateur stargazers alike for the next few hundred years. He also published a book called The Geography, which compiled the best and most comprehensive maps of the regions into one (somewhat) concise book.

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511

In Raphael's School of Athens, Epicurus is depicted on the left side reading a brown book. He is thought to have lived from 340-270 B.C.E. Epicurus is the founder of the philosophy called Epicureanism.

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511

If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail. These were the words of philosopher, Heraclitus, an early philosopher of the presocratic era was also known as the weeping philosopher or obscure philosopher. Heraclitus was one of the first philosophers that caught my eye in this painting because of his loneliness and somber expression. His detachment from the other figures in the painting led me to believe that there was something different about him, some new ideas that I wanted to discover.

Heraclitus grew up in a wealthy family, but cared nothing for reputation and status. He wrote on paradox, a flow of never ending change, the unity of opposites, and the importance of strife and tension in revealing logos or word. What is left of his work is found in the book he wrote called On Nature. He believed that to understand nature one must understand how one thing changes to its opposite and that ethics is very much connected to physics.





Raphael must have appreciated Heraclitus's knowledge because he is placed almost in the front center of the painting. His ideas were very influential to later philosophers, and although some found his theories illogical, others found them inspirational, such as the Stoics who used his physics to advocate a periodic destruction of the world by fire followed by a regeneration of the world. 

Although it was hard for me to understand much of Heraclitus's theories, I appreciate his work and determination to learn through self teachings. He did not follow in the footsteps of others but created his own path, and I was inspired by his originality.

Domeninchino, The Judgement of Midas, 1918

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511

As an ancient day myth-buster, Diagoras of Melos often expressed his detective side by proving many so called religious miracles false. Ultimately he became the first atheist. The humanism and Greek antiquity movement pushed social norms by combining pagan and Catholicism, and similarly, Diagoras of Melos challenged the common Greek Orphic doctrine of his time. Diagoras was on a completely different level. Evidently for him, limits were non-existent, as he cuts up a wooden sculpture of Hercules and throws it into the fire, claiming Hercules' thirteenth labor would be cooking turnips. It was these schemes that led to Diagoras' exile from Athens.

Although Diagoras often contradicted the Greek mythology that Italian humanism came to love, his free-spirited arguments could not be ignored in the quest for truth and knowledge that was the Italian humanism movement. Raphael acknowledges this as he paints Diagoras as a hot mess. It was Diagoras' persistence, courage, and drive that sparked other scholars to think in a new light. Whether right or wrong, Diagoras played the devil's advocate way back in the fifth century.

Do you think Diagoras is a cool guy? You can friend him on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/diagorasofmelos

Raphael, School of Athens, 1511

Socrates did not write any philosophical texts, so everything we know of him comes from his students, mostly Plato. Plato was Socrates's favorite pupil, and is shown in the middle of the School of Athens, next to Aristotle. Socrates believed that life could be broken down into questions, and the solution to any problem was found by asking the right ones. This form of thinking is known as the Socratic method. In fact, Socrates was notorious for never giving answers, only asking questions. His most famous quote is, "What I know, I do not think I know," which many take as an acknowledgement of his own ignorance.

I really like his philosophy, although I mostly know it from various works of Plato's. It seems like Socrates didn't really care about answering questions, only asking them. While he believed that virtue comes from knowledge, he also contended that knowledge consisted of asking questions. So perhaps Socrates's idea of virtue came not from knowing everything, but from knowing that you cannot know everything, and will therefore always have something to learn.

Socrates was always at odds with the Athenian political elite, and because of this they charged him with heresy and sentenced him to death by poison. But even on the edge of death, he welcomed the new experience, and according to Xenophon, truly believed that it was his time to die.

Raphael, The School of Athens, 1511

Aristotle, a renowned Greek philosopher, accomplished a multitude of feats throughout his life. His genius for intellectual and creative discovery remains a pristine example of innovation. To that end, it’s no surprise that Raphael features Aristotle and Plato in the center of The School of Athens. The painting's flow streams outwards from the two, as they are surrounded by many great scholars and artists. Juxtaposed, they walk and indicate their philosophical stance by their hand gestures. Plato’s philosophy centered around the concept that the true reality is an outlier, and what we can perceive within our unstable world is merely an abstraction of the truth. Plato’s raised hand demonstrates his belief that his ideal, stable reality exists above. In contrast, Aristotle’s reality simply exists in what we can sense. His outstretched hand moves in a downward motion, emphasizing the idea that reality exists in human experience and life. The contrasting colors of their robes, red and blue, also mark their differences.

Thus, Aristotle shares the spotlight with Plato as one of the greatest Greek philosophers in Raphael's The School of Ahtens.

Donatello, St. Louis of Toulouse, 1421-1425

Realism, it's an art. For sculpture, realism is accurately sculpting so that the sculpture represents the model. For Donatello's St. Louis of Toulouse, it is more accurately called a sculpture representing the person's character, ultimately contrasting the realistic majority of Donatello's work from this decade.

However, the work is often regarded as St. Louis the Blunder, the worst work in Donatello's career. Donatello backs his disastrous work by claiming "that he had done it that way only after careful study, since Saint Louis was a blunderer said by Vasari " to have abandoned his kingdom to become a monk." Although an obvious scapegoat for his own mistake, his reasoning takes on a whole new meaning of art. Applying character to modelling style surpasses typical sculpture. Similar to the annoyingly popular phrase, don't judge a book by its cover, the quality of this piece falls beyond the original blundering, and into the actual blundering of this character in biblical terms.

Perugino, Baptism of Christ, 1482

Perugino's The Baptism of Christ, a fresco composed in 1482 in the Sistine Chapel in Rome, is definitely a captivating one. Why is Jesus in several places at once? Why is God surrounded by floating baby heads? This painting along with Delivery of the keys are my favorite of Perugino's paintings for their intricate detail, depth, and emotion.

This scene follows Perugino's typical symmetrical pattern. St. John is baptizing Jesus in the front. Above Jesus's head is a dove symbolizing the holy spirit. Rome is shown in the background with the Colosseum and Pantheon. Also seen in the background is John preaching to the crowd, and on the opposite wall, the circumcision of Moses. Perugino uses good perspective in this painting and his figures are weighty and full of emotion and depth in the facial expressions. Despite the many number of figures in this painting, Perugino still manages to keep it balanced and not chaotic.

The floating baby heads and God, however, still  remain a mystery.

Fra Angelico, Penitent St. Jerome, 1424

Throughout the year, our class has looked at a plethora of pieces of art. I might say that we have become accustomed to whenever we see a lion in a painting, that it must be St. Jerome in the work. I was wondering why that was. 

So much swag oozes out of Jesus that if a man touched him, money would rain from the sky but as the man bent over to pick it up, the money would turn into five loaves of bread and two fish. Jesus would then touch these and they would transform into enough food to feed five thousand people. Jesus possesses too much power for any man or woman to touch him. He heals men of leprosy, paralysis, and even cleanses souls. This predates any form of modern medicine, making Jesus the first super doctor.

One of his earlier works, Noli Mi Tangere. Fra Angelico begins to experiment with perspective and introducing nature elements. He adds dimensionality to the tomb in which Jesus was buried by making the hole appear more than black oil on a wall, but rather a doorway into the unknown. I find it remarkable how Angelico can make piece of a wall appear multi-dimensional simply by altering the shading and the curving lines. He shades the upper portions of the overhang darker to signify shadows and how the light does not hit it. The grass shows how meticulous Angelico forces himself to be with extreme detail with each blade of grass and flower petal. I can distinctly see each cluster of weeds and tree branch full of leaves. Frangelico, too, oozes swag.

Dear Uccello,

My first impression of you was a simple Google search: “Uccello paintings.” My prior readings of your work hailed you as an innovator of perspective, a great Renaissance artist, perhaps in the ranks of Donatello and Botticelli. But what I saw was a surprisingly mediocre gallery.

Paolo Uccello, The Battle of San Romano, 1435

Nothing was particularly striking or attention-grabbing. I was disappointed, to say the least. In an era of Ghiberti and Masaccio, your work pales in comparison. In fact, it quite literally pales, as no one bothered to properly preserve any of it and it is now in various degrees of deterioration. No one even bothered to preserve your mosaics, which were supposed to have been great masterpieces. However, based on your paintings, I am forced to question the accuracy of this statement. Clearly the tastes of patrons were less refined than modern perspectives.

Paolo Uccello, Miracle of the Desecrated Host, 1466

And then there is the question of your so-called perspective. I find it hard to believe that you spent hours on end in your workshop mastering the art of vanishing points and size relativity. For, had you really mastered these skills, your paintings surely would have utilized them? Or so one would think. Yet I look at The Miracle of the Desecrated Host and see botched perspective and unrealistic proportions. Why are the figures in Scenes from a Monastic Life as tall as trees? And, what really gets me is your strategic placement of lances in The Battle of San Romano, which serve to guide the viewers’ eye along the lines of perspective that you so clumsily created. This cheap shot at fabricating vanishing points only confuses viewers and adds to the chaotic untidiness of the painting. 

Paolo Uccello, The Hunt, 1470

So, why do you keep trying?

After studying your works for the better part of two weeks, I can decisively say that we are not on good terms. I do not like you, Uccello. I would rather look at a Fra Angelico or a Verrocchio. The only enjoyment I get from looking at your paintings is from laughing at them. Both representations of Saint George and the Dragon are laughably outrageous, The Hunt is filled with anatomically bizarre animals, and your cartoonish characters in pretty much all of your paintings are endlessly amusing. Your legacy is average at best. I will not apologize for my opinions in this letter, but I will leave you now to rest.

Lorenzo Ghiberti, Jacob and Esau, 1425-52

This relief, titled Jacob and Esau, is another relief from Ghiberti's magnum opus, the East Doors or Gates of Paradise. Crafted sometime between 1425 and 1452, the relief looks to tell the story of the twin brothers as they fight over their respective birthrights. While other parts of the story (e.g. the selling of Esau's birthright for stew) are depicted in the periphery, the ultimate end to the the biblical story, their reconciliation, is depicted in the front of the relief.

Andrea Del Verrocchio's Workshop, Tobias and the Angel,  1470 - 1480

Donatello, The Prophet Habakkuk, 1423-1426

Paulo Uccello, Miracle of the Desecrated Host, Scene 1, 1466

Donatello once told Paolo Uccello to stop wasting his time on the pointless endeavor of perspective painting.

But Uccello did not listen, and that brings us to Scene 1 of “The Miracle of the Desecrated Host.”

Uccello’s talents may have been misplaced but his intentions were good. As a trailblazer for Renaissance perspective painting, he was doing the best he could. Uccello, a mathematician and mosaicist in Florence in the early 1400s, began painting in the studio of Lorenzo Ghiberti. This is where he met and became friends with Donatello, and it was also where he fostered his interest in perspective. Influenced by Ghiberti and the simple geometry of the time, Uccello began implementing clumsy attempts at perspective in his sketches and paintings (for a particularly novice attempt, check out the 1458 version of St. George and the Dragon.) Uccello attempted to use perspective to give his frescoes depth, while the conventional application was to narrate different stories within the same painting. Despite his innovative notions, he lacked the skill and knowledge to execute his ideas very well. Since he worked in mosaics for much of his life, he was accustomed to flatness, and creating depth in his paintings was troublesome. He spent hours working at night trying to master the vanishing point and create depth of field, to no avail. We can laugh at his feeble attempts, but at least he was trying really,really hard. 

It's a mess.

Filippo Brunelleschi, Florence Cathedral Dome, 1436

Brunelleschi came to be known as a father of architecture and a genius of design, but one thing he was never known for, was quitting. Filippo became a goldsmith and began to sculpt, he showed promise and creativity, but often fell short in competition. Of course he had very talented rivals, such as Lorenzo Ghiberti, but Brunelleschi continued and studied the new subject of architecture and of course never forgot Lorenzo's name.

After returning from Rome and eventually being commissioned to design the dome for the Florence Cathedral, Brunelleschi presented the world of architecture with a dome design that absolutely made a mockery of any competitors. The dome's base spans forty-two meters, making the dome a massive mathematical feat. As Filippo introduced a new way to support a dome of such massive proportion, he took pride in doing everything his own way. From the scaffolding to devices used to leverage building materials, Brunelleschi created the dome's design and the process in which it was built. Of course Brunelleschi still managed to let Lorenzo make mistakes, only for him to swoop in and make a fool of Ghiberti. All in all, Brunelleschi's architectural achievements, as well as his wit and eventual winning mentality, earn him admiration that I believe he has earned.

Piero Della Francesca, The Baptism of Christ, 1453

Andrea Del Verrocchio, David, c. 1475

Although my love for paintings seems vast and never ending, I have recently been turning to sculptures for some aesthetic pleasure. While I could probably stare at anything by Bernini for the rest of my life, I'm not writing my blog post about him.

Enter Andrea Del Verrocchio. When he was first assigned to me, I knew nothing about him, just that he was a sculptor. My first thought was, "This'll be a great way to appease my sculptor craving." Upon looking at his work, though, I was unimpressed. This will be great quickly changed into "He's no Bernini." Comparison can be tricky, especially when it comes to a statue like David. Verrocchio's rendition doesn't come close to Donatello's Pan-ish tribute or Michaelanglo's youth.

But to truly appreciate Verrocchio, you have to throw all of those comparisons out the window. He might not be great, but he is pretty darn good. Verrocchio creates soft beauty through the use of curls and drapery. His David may not be as slick or stunning as the others, but there is a boyish charm in the smirk he dons; Goliath's head thrown on the floor like it's dirty laundry.

He is an artist lost in the shadow of others, and I can connect to that.

Andrea Del Castano, Crucifixion, 1450

Sandro Botticelli, The Mystic Nativity, 1500

Oh Botticelli, what exactly have you crafted for us here...?

Benozzo Gozzoli, St. Augustine Reading Rhetoric in Rome, 1464

Benozzo Gozzoli's uniqueness stems mostly from his absurd yet flowing depictions of nature. His affinity for the Earth was unparalleled, crowding his art with trees, rocks, and animals. However, what do we end up with when all but the latter remains absent from his paintings?

Of course, that's not entirely true. Gozzoli sneaks in windows in the back to draw some buildings and a single tree. Yet, Gozzoli has no choice to divert from his adoration of topiary to focus on the primary subject of this painting. St. Augustine teaches rhetoric to his students gathered around below him. Some are enthralled, others are not. It's your typical classroom, with all but the exception of the presence of a small dog.

Amusingly, the tiny pup diverts most of the attention to itself, rather than St. Augustine, who we should be focusing on. The dog's position, being squarely in front of St. Augustine and settled comfortably in the middle, acts as the core of the picture. Does it ruin the painting? Maybe. True, we lose ourselves in the oddness of the dog's appearance rather than seeing the painting for what it is: Saint Augustine teaching rhetoric in Rome. Nonetheless, the painting remains pleasant. In fact, the dog only strengthens the shape of the painting, a neat triangle leading from St. Augustine down to his students.

Some could speculate about the dog's meaning. Loyalty, innocence, or any by the book canine symbolism could be fair game.

Or, alternatively, Gozzoli could have simply wanted to paint a cute dog, because that's what Gozzoli does.

Masaccio, Portrait of a Young Man,  1423-1424

Ghirlandaio, Portrait of a Young Girl, 1490

Domenico Ghirlandaio, while not always an exceptional artist, loved to paint and to make people happy. He is said to have accepted every project that came to him in his workshop. He made an effort to complete all works by himself and rarely used the help of his apprentices, one of whom was Michelangelo.

This painting, Portrait of a Young Girl, was painted in 1490 not for a chapel or a famous family but for this young girl. He knew he would not become famous over a work like this, but did not care for fame but instead to please his customers.

Domenico Ghirlandaio was born Domenico di Tommaso di Currado di Doffo Bigordi. Him and his brothers changed their names to Ghirlandaio when they became famous for making hair garlands for young Florentine girls. Ghirlandaio is an adaptation of garland-maker in Italian. This young Florentine girl is wearing one of these hair garlands.

Masaccio, San Giovenale Triptych, 1422

San Giovenale Triptych by Masaccio was painted in 1422. He finished it around the age of 20. It was discovered in the church of San Giovenale at Cascia di Reggello, which is near to the hometown of Masaccio. This painting represents the Virgin and Child with angels in the panel in the center. On the left panel are Saints Bartholomew and Blaise. On the right panel are Saints Juvenal and Anthony Abbot. The two angels at the bottom, near the Virgin, have their feet turned inwards. The angels are turned towards her, while the angel on the left gesturing with arms open and the angel on the right is praying.  

Christ is depicted as a infant in this painting. He is holding grapes in his left hand and eating them in his right hand. This is a reference to the Eucharist. At the bottom of Mary's throne used to be a inscription. The inscription read "Ave Maria Dominus Tecum Benedicta."

Filippo Lippi, Martelli Annunciation, 1440

With perspective like that, it must be Filippo.

Painted for the Medici church of San Lorenzo, the Martelli Annunciation has been noted as Lippi's most satisfying piece of work. Symbolizing Filippo's ability to be both innovative and derivative, Lippi created one of the first square altarpieces, split down the middle, featuring Brunelleschi-inspired architecture with it's lack of traditional gothic embellishments. 

Filippo is also no stranger to the ways of the Flemish. The small vase at the bottom, called an Ampulla, shows up in many paintings from the Netherlands.

Finding a piece that represented Filippo Lippi was extremely difficult for there's much controversy over which works he actually painted himself. Commissioned by the Medicis, Filippo made a pretty heavy salary, allowing him to hire assistants to counterfeit his own work.

I truly believe this to be his true work for there is a crispness to the lines, vibrance to the colors and a softness in the facial expressions. There's not so much a blatant horror to Mary's face, rather a understanding acceptance with her arm extended as if to say, "You know what? I'm chill." The two angels, I assume to be waiting outside in case Mary loses her head and needs subduing, also have quite lax expressions. The one further back looks down at Gabriel indicating "the lady is cool," the angel in the front pointing as if to draw attention to the fact that this whole operation is more or less going down without a fight.

I hate conflict. In order to avoid it, oftentimes I'll agree to anything - no matter how insane, and no matter where my own opinion or desire may stand. Whatever creates less tension. However, catering to every whim and want, so as to not be caught in some conflict of interests, has ironically caused a bit of tension of its own due to my reluctance to make a decision. . 

*Sigh* 

At any rate, I chose this annunciation out of all Filippo Lippi's because I felt it represented both Filippo and myself rather perfectly. 

Filippo Brunelleschi, The Sacrifice of Isaac, 1401

Filippo Brunelleschi's The Sacrifice of Isaac depicts the biblical story of Abraham's test from God. In order to examine the strength of his faith, God put Abraham to the ultimate test and asked him to sacrifice his son Isaac and upon agreeing to do so, angels swoop in to stop the act. Although there are probably a million things wrong with the passage, and I would hope my father would never come this close to ending my life, Brunelleschi portrays the last gasp moment beautifully. I admired his quality craftsmanship that, of course, came from being the goldsmith that he was. However, after further investigation, his piece did not quite cut it. Lorenzo Ghiberti had done it again, beating him in competition, only to further generate the hatred felt for him by Brunelleschi.

Picking himself up from the defeat, Brunelleschi traveled immediately to Rome to study architecture. Judging by his architectural prowess, his change of field was very successful and yes, he managed to succeed in revenge as well. What else do you do when your sworn enemy works for you? Let him screw up of course, because Brunelleschi could clearly do it better, as he showed time and time again and ultimately embarrassed Ghiberti during their work with the Florence Cathedral.

Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper, 1495-1497

Perugino, Delivery of the Keys, 1481

Pietro Perugino's Delivery of the Keys is one of his most well-known works commissioned by Pope Sixtus and painted in 1481. It is located in the Sistine Chapel in Rome. The fresco represents the story from Matthew 16 where Christ gives the keys to heaven to Saint Peter. The people in the background represent two biblical stories of Christ. Tribute Money and The Stoning of Christ.

The composition of this painting is beautifully done. It is almost perfectly symmetrical and has a strong use of perspective. Two vertical lines from the bottom left and right corners meet at the vanishing point at the door of the middle building. Perugino also uses a slight aerial view, which makes the hills appear to fade into a never-ending horizon. The slim-feathered trees and hills are Umbrian influenced, and the style of the figures in the painting is adopted from Verocchio. The figures are elegant and calm but tightly clumped in rows at the front of the painting. The faces are very realistic and full of emotion, however the heads are slightly small in proportion. Perugino uses Da Vinci's sfumata to make his characters hands appear less rigid.

I loved this piece for its beautifully vibrant and detailed composition and lively characters. The motion leads your eye around the painting from the scenes in the background to the engaging figures in the front. You can't help but notice each intricate fold in the robes and realistic shadowing in the faces and necks. The posture and arm gestures make you feel present in the painting. This is overall my favorite piece of Perugino's.

Sandro Botticelli, Primavera, 1478

Absolutely breathtaking. Maybe it's the characters' heartfelt expressions or the painstaking attention to detail in the meadow. But, wait. Where is Christ? Why on earth are there no saints?

Commissioned by the Medici family as a present for their newlywed family members, Sandro Botticelli seizes this moment to break from tradition by creating a large scale mythological scene with Venus as the central figure. Botticelli captures sensuality and fertility in this painting as encompassed in the ornate background and the other figures in the painting. Moreover, legend has it that the Medici family had a orange grove on their property, so Botticelli parallels the oranges to the notion of hopefulness in marriage and the opportunity to produce "fruit" for their family.

However on the right-hand side, Botticelli exhibits tension between Zephyr and Chloris to emphasize the conflict that arouses between marriages as a result of male domination in 15th century culture. According to Greek mythology, Zyphyr, the wind of March, kidnaps the nymph Chloris to marry her. Chloris then becomes the goddess of Spring and eternal bearer of life. Botticelli warns the viewers of the obstacles marriage can bring, as the artist illustrates frail trees and a lack of fruit to parallel to the lack of respect for women and how that may affect their inability to produce "fruit." Botticelli conclusively highlights the recurrence of oranges above the pregnant Flora to re-enforce the notion of respect for women in this dynamic.

Botticelli continues to reference these advanced ideologies throughout Primavera, as demonstrated in the relationships of the Graces, Cupid, and Mercury. Nonetheless he continues to depict emotion, depth, and detail in the figures and their surroundings that seems prevalent in almost all of his work. Most importantly, while this painting breaks from the Renaissance artistic structures and religious definition, Botticelli proves to address this notion of human interaction. Creating an new, abstract representation of beauty through the botanical gardens and Greek figures for the public to reflect on, we see that the lack of religious infliction only benefits Botticelli's status as a renowned and respected artist in the coming centuries.

Domenico Ghirlandaio, Sketch of the Colosseum. 1400s

I know this is not a painting, nor is this Ghirlandaio's most famous work, but it captures what type of artist he was and how he was not an impostor or fake.

It was said that Ghirlandaio was an expert at sketching without a ruler or compass. This is not typical of most painters or artists of this time. He was able to work with just his eyes and did not need to measure his subject. He sketched objects such as columns, birds, amphitheaters, and arches.  These were all studied and found to be perfect in proportion. Sometimes he would even sketch a little person next to his subject so the viewer can see that the proportions were perfectly even.

This sketch of the Colosseum is very impressive. Compared to a picture from now you can see no difference in the location of cracks, archways, and windows. It looks as if he used a ruler or a compass to get the measurements exact, but when you find out he did not, you cannot help yourself from being stunned and amazed.

Filippo Lippi, Madonna and Child with Two Angels, 1465

After escaping slavery by drawing his master's portrait, Filippo Lippi was commissioned by the Medici Family to paint large altarpieces and portraits of fellow clans. Although he was one of the most innovative painters of his time, he allowed much of his work to be greatly influenced by other artists and architects.

In his Madonna and Child with Two Angels (as with all his portraits) Lippi focuses on each persons "individual likeness." Eventually he was paid well enough to hire assistants whom he trained to counterfeit his own work allowing him to keep his myriad vices warm.

And warm his vices he did.

In 1456, he abducted one of the nuns in the Augustian Convent of St. Margherita (where he worked as Chaplain). Lucretia Buti was her name (and yes her last name was Buti) and she bore him two children. One of which went on to also become a painter, taught at the hand of Botticelli, one of Filippo's pupils.

It is believed that Lippi's Mary was done in the likeness of his Lucretia and the angels in the likeness of his children. Another reason why this painting represents Filippo more than any of his others.

Finally, looking at the majority of Filippo's collection, the work doesn't really blow my hair back. There are often hints of genius in each piece, but one can easily tell where he had gotten lazy or his assistants had ad-libbed in portions for him. His Madonna and Child with Two Angels, encompasses every stroke of his genius within every stroke of his brush. The soft, glowing warmth and pureness in Mary's face. And, despite baby Jesus' obvious state of inebriation, the children are portrayed both playfully and realistically; making this a true masterpiece.

Lorenzo Ghiberti, Gates of Paradise, 1425-52

There's something to be said for obsession. While never good in a vacuum, certain forms of obsession can help to create monumental things. This sentiment is evidence in Ghiberti's magnus opuses, a pair of gold and bronze doors dubbed by Michelangelo the "Gates of Paradise." Worked on excessively by Ghiberti through two commissions over 25 years, the doors show a meticulousness and attention to detail that is distinctly Ghiberti. While hardly resembling a gate (Michelangelo always did have a problem with distinctions), the so-called Gates of Paradise do indeed live up to a heavenly ideal, with their beautiful gold plates, all realizing scenes from the Bible. Ghiberti expertly crafted almost every part of this masterwork, lending an awesome amount of detail to each panel. Each face is emotive and relevant, even his own.

Piero Della Francesca, Flagellation, 1448

Leonardo da Vinci, Embryo in Womb, 1512