My Kid Could Paint That

Massacio, Tribute Money, 1420

Art changes. This statement we know as fact. Changes what though? When does it change? How does it change? And who is brave enough to change it? I want to explore the idea behind a movement in art, the propelling force that makes people want to change the status quo. So here we are with an opportunity to no longer be a bystander, but to no delve into certain facets of art and explore the men who changed the face of art forever.

A picture holds a thousand words. Cliché? Yes. True? You betcha. When does this phenomenon of narrative in painting begin, though? Much of the early painting did not tell a story, rather captured a moment in time. Massacio doesn’t want to leave it up to the viewer to create his or her own idea of what is going on, he has decided to let the whole scene unfold in front of them.

Massacio knows the people he wants this painting to touch can’t read a Bible. He's opposed to having written word dictated to them and wants to give them a chance to interpret the story through sight. Massacio’s Tribute Money, painted in 1420, depicts a scene from the book of Matthew. In the story Jesus tells Peter to go to the sea to catch a fish, and inside that fish’s mouth will be coins. Even though Jesus is exempt from paying a Temple Tax because it is his father’s temple, he still choses to show the disciples that material goods on Earth mean nothing to those in Heaven.

Aside from the new form of narrative that the piece takes on, it also employs a change stylistically. Masaccio toys with the idea of single-point perspective. The head of Christ becomes the vanishing point, which immediately draws the viewer to his face. It widely believed to be the first painting, since Rome fell in 476 A.D, to use single point linear perspective. He takes the viewer on a journey and delivers them to Christ, something never done in art before.

Masaccio, Tribute Money, 1427

A chronologically skewed narrative, Masaccio’s Tribute Money depicts the Gospel according to Luke, specifically, the catching of the dry fish and its aftermath. With Jesus’ forehead as the vanishing point, the eye is drawn straight to the center, where the initial miracle begins. Jesus tells Peter, a helpless fisherman amidst a drought, that with one more casting of his net, he will catch a fish. Following this miracle, a tax collector arrives, demanding the funds of Christ. To Peter, Jesus poses the question, "From whom do the kings of the earth collect duty and taxes—from their own children or from others?" Peter argues for the exemption from taxes for the son a God, but Jesus sends him to the river. Peter catches a fish, and from its mouth collects Jesus’ tax. Heeding his redeemer, Peter goes to the river once again (portrayed on the left side of the composition) finds a coin in the fish’s mouth, and pays the tax collector on the right side of the composition.

Though generally barren and indicative of the drought described in the book of Luke, the strong vertical trees behind Jesus show at least scant signs of life. The gothic architecture on the right serves to provide viewer with a structured, regal, setting for the tax collector’s portion of the narrative. Seeming to disappear into a mountain, the building creates a barrier for the only non-religious member of the story portrayed.

Evident in the shadows, lighting, and drapery, Masaccio’s mastery of character drawing proves almost detrimental, had he not added halos. So realistic, Masaccio’s figures seem almost too lifelike to be holy. The meticulous placement of halos keeps the beings realistic, but frankly indicates their religious status. Jesus’ half-circle halo has been interpreted by scholars as a mathematical tribute to Jesus’ wisdom and power. A three-part story, Masaccio depicts one of Christ’s most obscure miracles with a clearly separated composition.