|
|
 |
Michelangelo
Buonarroti (1475-1564) exerted enormous influence. He, too,
was universally acknowledged as a supreme artist in his own lifetime,
but again, his followers all too often present us with
only the master's outward manner, his muscularity and gigantic
grandeur; they miss the inspiration. Sebastiano del Piombo
(c.1485-1547), for example, actually used a drawing (at
least a sketch) made for him by Michelangelo for his masterwork,
The Raising of Lazarus. Masterwork it is; yet how melodramatic it
appears if compared with Michelangelo's own painting.
Michelangelo resisted the paintbrush, vowing with his characteristic
vehemence that his sole tool was the chisel. As a well-born
Florentine, a member of the minor aristocracy, he was temperamentally
resistant to coercion at any time. Only the power of
the pope, tyranical by position and by nature, forced
him to the Sistine and the reluctant achievement of the
world's greatest single fresco. His contemporaries spoke about his terribilità,
which means, of course, not so much being terrible as being awesome. There
has never been a more literally awesome artist than Michelangelo: awesome
in the scope of his imagination, awesome in his awareness of the significance--the
spiritual significance--of beauty. Beauty was to him divine, one of
the ways God communicated Himself to humanity.
Like Leonardo, Michelangelo too had a good Florentine teacher, the delightful
Domenico Ghirlandaio (c.1448-94). Later, he was to claim that he never
had a teacher, and figuratively, this is a meaningful enough statement.
However, his handling of the claw chisel does reveal his debt to Ghirlandaio's
early influence, and this is evident in the cross-hatching of Michelangelo's
drawings--a technique he undoubtedly learned from his master. The gentle
accomplishments of a work like The Birth of John the Baptist bear not
the slightest resemblance to the huge intelligence of an early work of
Michelangelo's like The Holy Family, also known as the Doni Tondo. This
is somehow not an attractive picture with its chilly, remote beauty,
but its stark power stays in the mind when more acessible paintings
have been forgotten.
|