Up until the mid-nineteenth century, this panel and its two companions (Saint Peter and Christ Blessing) were preserved together with two others from the same polyptychType of object with several panels, usually an altarpiece, although it may also fulfil other functions. The polyptych normally consists of a central panel with an even number of side-panels, which are sometimes hinged to fold. Although in principle every object with two panels or more may be called a polyptych, the word is normally used as a general term for anything larger than a triptych. As with diptychs and triptychs, the size and material can vary.
—Victor M. Schmidt, Grove Art © Oxford University Press [fig. 1]
[fig. 1] (see also Reconstruction): one representing the Baptist [fig. 2]
[fig. 2] now in the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Chambéry, and the other probably with an image of Saint Ursula, its whereabouts currently unknown. They were parts of an altarpieceAn image-bearing structure set on the rear part of the altar, abutting the back of the altarblock, or set behind the altar in such a way as to be visually joined with the altar when viewed from a distance. It is also sometimes called a retable, following the medieval term retrotabulum. The altarpiece was never officially prescribed by the Church, but it did perform a prescribed function alternatively carried out by a simple inscription on the altarblock: to declare to which saint or mystery the altar was dedicated. In fact, the altarpiece did more than merely identify the altar; its form and content evoked the mystery or personage whose cult was celebrated at the altar. This original and lasting function influenced the many forms taken by the altarpiece throughout its history.
—Alexander Nagel, Grove Art © Oxford University Press that, in view of its dimensions and execution, must have been a commission of some importance, although characterized by iconographic conventions and technical features (execution on a single panel) of an archaizing type. From an iconographic point of view, the bust of the adult Christ (rather than the Madonna and Child) in the central panel, rather uncommon in Tuscany at the time of the execution of the work, and the appearance among the lateral saints of one whose veneration was not particularly widespread (if she really does represent, as would seem to be the case, Saint Ursula), might suggest that the altarpiece was intended for the nuns of the Florentine convent named after this saint and founded in 1309. The elaborate ornamental decoration incised on the gold ground is probably a measure of the importance attached to the work. This type of decoration, preferred by Cimabue(Cenni [Benciviene] di Pepo)
(c. 1240–before July 14, 1302)
Italian painter and mosaicist. His nickname means either “bull-head” or possibly “one who crushes the views of others,”’ (It. cimare: ‘top, shear, blunt’), an interpretation matching the tradition in commentaries on Dante that he was not merely proud of his work but contemptuous of criticism. Filippo Villani and Vasari assigned him the name Giovanni, but this has no historical foundation. He may be considered the most dramatic of those artists influenced by contemporary Byzantine painting through which antique qualities were introduced into Italian work in the late 13th century. His interest in classical Roman drapery techniques and in the spatial and dramatic achievements of such contemporary sculptors as Nicola Pisano, however, distinguishes him from other leading members of this movement. As a result of his influence on such younger artists as Duccio and Giotto, the forceful qualities of his work, and its openness to a wide range of sources, Cimabue appears to have had a direct personal influence on the subsequent course of Florentine, Tuscan, and possibly Roman painting.
—Robert Gibbs, Grove Art © Oxford University Press, was not common in Florence and was generally used in the thirteenth century only on images of the Maestà. As for the peculiar profiles of the triptych components, and the fact that they seem to have been painted on a single panel, these were aspects of archaizing character but still fairly widespread in Florentine painting in the early fourteenth century.
Artaud de Montor probably acquired the National Gallery of Art’s panels in Italy in the later years of the eighteenth or early years of the nineteenth century. They came to him accompanied by the attribution (wholly unjustified) to “Margaritone d’Arezzo,” with which they were later illustrated in the successive catalogs of his collection (1808, 1811, 1843). A century later, Bernard Berenson(June 26, 1865–October 6, 1959)
Art historian and connoisseur. Son of a Lithuanian timber merchant who emigrated to the United States with his family in 1875, he was educated at the Latin School, Boston, and at Harvard University, where he studied Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, Hebrew, and German. In an unsuccessful application for a traveling fellowship to Europe, he wrote, ‘Art prevails in this programme because it is there that I feel myself weakest. One can study literature here . . . but art not at all.’ On his subsequent visit to Europe in 1885, financed by friends, his rapid visual self-education led to the decision to settle in Italy and to devote his life to the study of Italian art.
—William Mostyn-Owen, Grove Art © Oxford University Press (1920) suggested an attribution to Cimabue. Publishing the three panels immediately after their acquisition by Duveen Brothers, Inc., in 1919, Berenson considered them executed “as early as 1271 . . . or a little later” and compared them with various late thirteenth-century works, including two apse mosaics—one in San Miniato al Monte in Florence and the other in Pisa Cathedral, the latter a documented work of a “magister Franciscus,” who executed it between 1301 and 1302—and the fresco with the scene of the Capture of Christ in the upper church of San Francesco at Assisi. The panels were exhibited under the name of Cimabue in 1920, 1924, and 1935, and various subsequent publications accepted the attribution. Among these we may mention the opinions of Osvald Sirén (1922), who compared the three paintings with the artist’s late works (in particular with the Maestà now in the Uffizi, Florence); Lionello Venturi (1931, 1933); Enzo Carli (1949); Pietro Toesca (1927); and Luigi Coletti (1941), all of whom thought that the paintings in the Gallery probably were autograph by the master. Berenson himself restated on various occasions his conviction of the Cimabuesque authorship of the panels. But Raimond Van Marle (1923 and later) placed this in doubt, as did Richard Offner (1924), though he admitted the possibility of a direct intervention of the master, at least in the central panel. Mario Salmi (1935) also excluded the three panels from Cimabue’s catalog; additionally, he recognized one of the missing figures of the former Artaud de Montor altarpiece in the panel of the Baptist in the museum in Chambéry. In 1948, Roberto Longhi identified the master of the polyptych with the anonymous artist who executed the Maestà no. 6115 in the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence. That panel came from the monastery of San Gaggio near Florence, hence the conventional name Longhi bestowed on this artist: Master of San Gaggio. From that moment, the attribution to Cimabue disappeared from the art historical literature, apart from the posthumous edition of Berenson’s Italian Pictures (1963) and the catalogs of the Gallery. The three paintings thereafter were classified as works by a follower of the master, or ascribed—ever more frequently—to the Master of San Gaggio himself. In 1987, the present writer tentatively proposed the identification of this anonymous master with Grifo di Tancredi, and this proposal has since met with growing consensus. On the other hand, different opinions have been expressed about the dating of the former Artaud de Montor polyptych: Luiz C. Marques (1987) proposed the date 1275–1280; Edward Garrison (1949), Angelo Tartuferi (1990, 2002), and Rolf Bagemihl (1999), the years between 1280 and 1290; Sonia Chiodo (2009), the last decade of the thirteenth century; and others have preferred a dating around or even after 1300.
An aid for solving the problem of dating may come from the panel that gave its name to the painter, namely the Maestà now in the Accademia. This is not dated, but some clues suggest that it was executed in the early years of the fourteenth century. The very circumstance that the earlier literature related the altarpiece in the Accademia to the Master of Santa Cecilia, and the three panels in Washington to the earlier production of Pacino di Bonaguida, implies that their closest stylistic affinities should be sought in works dating to the early decades of the fourteenth century. The influence of the young Giotto (Florentine, c. 1265 - 1337) has even been aired. That seems improbable, for some characteristic aspects of the art of Grifo da Tancredi, such as the incongruities and chaotic perspective of his architectural structures or of his marble thrones, suggest that his models in this phase were derived not from Giotto but from the works of Cimabue and artists of his own generation, as yet unable to accept the rationality of Giotto’s way of creating pictorial space. The model for the panel in the Accademia, for example, could have been an image of the type of the Maestà of Santa Margherita at Montici, or Saint Peter Enthroned (dated 1307) in the church of San Simone in Florence.
If the San Gaggio altarpiece in the Accademia belongs, as I believe, to the first decade of the fourteenth century, a similar dating may also apply to the former Artaud de Montor panels. The two share close affinities. Among the saints in the Florentine Maestà, the Baptist in particular is almost a replica of the image of the same saint in the painting now in the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Chambéry, but the Saint Peter [fig. 3]
[fig. 3] standing alongside the protagonist in the San Gaggio altarpiece also is very close to the representation of that saint in our panels. Their faces are energetically modeled, with marked contrasts of light and shade and characterized by very pronounced cheekbones, short nose, fleshy lips, small eyes, and penetrating gaze. Their facial features and their intense brooding expressions are further enlivened by the undulating curls that frame their faces, while their stiff, simplified drapery, furrowed by few folds and given an almost metallic consistency and sheen, assumes a subordinate role. The artist’s unfamiliarity with the rules of perspectival foreshortening is also betrayed in the panels now in the Gallery, notably by the rendering of the book held in Christ’s left hand [fig. 4]
[fig. 4] : its pages, instead of opening, improbably seem to bend backwards. Offner (1924) rightly observed that, although the frowning expression of the energetically squared faces [fig. 5]
[fig. 5] may recall those of the Florentine caposcuola, “Cimabue’s figures possess a higher intensity.” At least during his late phase, Grifo emphasized solemnity and elegance in his figures, delineated with a graphic style that Fern Rusk Shapley correctly deemed “more suave and flowing than in Cimabue’s commonly accepted paintings.” It is just in this respect that Grifo went beyond the example of Cimabue. His human ideal is gentler, more graceful in movement, neater in dress. He conforms more faithfully to the conventions of the GothicTerm used to denote, since the 15th century, the architecture and, from the 19th century onward, all the visual arts of Europe during a period extending by convention from about 1120 to c. 1400 in central Italy, and until the late 15th century and even well into the 16th century in northern Europe and the Iberian Peninsula. The early gothic style overlapped chronologically with Romanesque and flourished after the onset of Renaissance art in Italy and elsewhere. The term gothic is applied to western European painting of the 13th century to the early 15th century. Unlike gothic architecture, it is distinguished more by developments in style and function than in technique, and even in these areas there is considerable national and regional diversity. The applicability of the term to Italian painting is debated, as is its usefulness in accounting for developments in Netherlandish painting from the early 15th century. Contact with Byzantine art was close in the early 13th century, but after c. 1250 survived principally in the Holy Roman Empire and Italy.
—Peter Kidson, Grove Art © Oxford University Press style in Florentine painting, as did the Master of Santa Cecilia (that is, probably Gaddo Gaddi) and Lippo di Benivieni during these same years. The style of the Washington panels suggests that their dating be placed between the first and the second decade of the fourteenth century. But if we are right in assuming that they were intended for the church of Sant’Orsola in Florence, they cannot have been any earlier than 1309.
Miklós Boskovits (1935–2011)
March 21, 2016