Natalie d'Arbeloff did a recent take-off on a Fra Angelico "Annunciation," for her accordion book project, and asked if any of us could identify the source. I did a little research to identify the original painting, but then found myself looking at other versions of the same subject by the same artist: Fra Angelico, who lived in Renaissance Italy between 1395 and 1455.
It wasn't unusual for Renaissance artists to revisit a common subject like the angel Gabriel telling Mary she was going to bear a child, especially when they were commissioned to paint complex altarpieces (see the full example in the third image, below) which often showed scenes from the life of Christ.
What's particularly interesting, though, is how the depictions change. The gestures and attitudes of the figures may, at first glance, look similar but they often show an evolution in the artist's thinking about what was going on in the story, or they may reflect the desires, position, or status of the patron who has commissioned the work.The painting that Natalie used (at left) has a formal composition, with the figures arranged in opposition and framed by the architecture of the courtyard and the formal garden beyond it. However, those are pretty fantastic striped wings on Gabriel! Here Mary is leaning forward to receive the message from the seated angel, who points toward heaven. Though it looks earlier, this is a small painting from a series Fra Angelico did not manage to complete at the end of his life.
In the version below (Convent of San Marco, late 1430s) the figures are under the porch, and the feeling is much more intimate. They've both got haloes; Gabriel's wings are feathery and developed, but he too has his arms crossed and seems almost to be bowing before Mary. The garden at left is developed and realistic.
In the famous "Prado Altarpiece" (1430), painted for the Church of San Domenico in Fiesole and sold to Spain in 1611, the theology of the incarnation has been developed through extensive use of symbolism. The garden becomes the garden of Eden, with Adam and Eve being thrown out in humanity's fall from grace. These two events are tied together, indicating the reversal that Christ's birth was supposed to represent for human beings.
I spent more time studying yet another version, below, from Fra Angelico's Cortona altarpiece (1432-1434). The figures are fluid, realistic, and arrested in their motion; the perspective is complicated; there's a lot of gold being used -- look at those gilded wings and coin-like haloes -- and the decorative details everywhere in the painting are very developed and elaborate. Gabriel even speaks golden words toward Mary, and there is a lot of nuance in her gaze and their gestures.
Ultimately, inspired by Natalie's example, I began thinking about making a relief print based on this painting. I did a sketch, looking at the painting on the computer screen, and then worked on tracing paper with pen and ink, simplifying the poses, exaggerting some features, and adding heavy ink margins to my drawing. Then I cut out the figures, making deliberately rough outlines, and moved them around; then I glued them down and did some more drawing, cutting and glueing.
I was interested in what the placement said about their relationship, but also in the more abstract issue of how the shapes fit together and interacted, even before the addition of haloes and any background structures. I decided to zoom into the scene to concentrate attention on the actual encounter. It seemed like I wanted Mary to be definitely seated, and lower than Gabriel, but I don't like her downcast eyes; her crossed hands are submissive enough. In the next iteration I'll change the gaze so she's looking up at him, and change his eye so that it looks down. I do like what's happening now in the negative shape between the two of them, and want to go further with the positive/negative shapes and overall abstraction. This is all very preliminary, but it seems like there are still a lot of ways to go with this, 600 years later, so stay tuned for further developments!
Beth, so wondeful to see these Annunciations. The second one I think was the most memorable for me of many of Fra Angelico's works which we saw in the San Marco. I'm transported back to a fantastic holiday we had in Italy in 1993, with almost a week in Florence - an unforgettable experience for me to see so much art that I'd only seen in art history class slides and in books.
How exciting to see the beginnings of a print here. Isn't it fascinating where/when inspiration strikes? Have fun with this and do show us more.
Posted by: Marja-Leena | May 08, 2012 at 12:24 AM
I found myself wondering whether these figures might be another showing of the continents that meet in the place so few ever visit and about which you have been writing, drawing, photographing this year.
Posted by: Vivian | May 08, 2012 at 06:23 AM
Oh, I love what you're doing here. Glorious!
Posted by: Rachel Barenblat | May 08, 2012 at 08:06 AM
Marja-Leena, I am dying to go to Italy for the same reason you loved it. Have never been, all these years, and hope we'll make it someday before too long.
Vivian: well, you never know! "Annunciation" can have many interpretations, even for older women like us ;-) I'm considering putting my angel and Mary in different clothes...and a different "garden."
Thank you so much, Rachel!
Posted by: Beth | May 08, 2012 at 09:44 AM
One of the only paintings that has stayed with me from my many months of Art History classes was Tanner's">http://www.philamuseum.org/collections/permanent/104384.html">Tanner's Annunciation - it's something of what I could imagine the moment actually being like, if I could believe the moment actually happened. I love the look on Mary's face in that last of Fra Angelico's though - somewhere between "yes" and "you've got to be kidding me."
Posted by: Kat | May 08, 2012 at 11:44 AM
Whoops! Here's the link: http://www.philamuseum.org/collections/permanent/104384.html
Posted by: Kat | May 08, 2012 at 11:45 AM
I love this post and the print you are working on. Amazing!
Posted by: Nin Andrews | May 08, 2012 at 03:25 PM
We have a print of that second Fra Angelico (the one from the Convent of San Marco) hanging over our bed! J's a big fan of Renaissance Italian art, so our bedroom is full of Madonnas, both with and without child. (We also have a print of Botticelli's Annunciation, with its wonderful colors and dance-like postures.)
Posted by: Lorianne | May 08, 2012 at 03:36 PM
Beth, that's a terrific take on the Annunciation theme, I love it! I'm so glad you were inspired by my borrowing of Fra Angelico's striped wings - if there are angels, I want them to have wings like that!
My dear departed friend the poet Roy Marz (who is the winged figure in my image) would have loved your version and probably included it in his series of poems on Annunciation paintings. They were published in Poetry Magazine and I have copies somewhere which I should send you.
I love all the Fra Angelico paintings you've chosen to show but my favourite is the top one, for its simplicity,tremendous colour and striking composition. The more ornate and decorated they become, the less they intrigue me although I recognise their beauty. You simply must go to Italy one day - you will swoon before the artistic glories everywhere on view.
Posted by: Natalie | May 08, 2012 at 03:37 PM
Personal Space: It's startling how compressing the distance between Gabriel and Mary gives this a much more hostile and uncomfortable, confrontational feeling, to me at least. Deeply unwelcome news from an authority figure? Or is it just me?
Posted by: G. | May 08, 2012 at 10:11 PM
G: yes, that's what I felt as I moved the figures, too. In spite of singing a Magnificat every single Sunday afternoon for three years, I've always felt that Mary would have reacted with shock, horror, and disbelief, and that the story smacked of patriarchy. More generally, I want to say something about how the awareness of our purpose in life often comes as unwelcome or difficult news, and is met at first with resistance.
Posted by: Beth | May 09, 2012 at 09:11 AM
My interest in Renaissance paintings has a Turkish twist, of course. Many of them feature Turkish carpets (often used as hangings or covers for pieces of furniture) and I did wonder if the fabric behind Mary in the third Annunciation could be one. The final version reveals a brocade-like fabric which could also have originated in Turkey. The earliest carpet was recorded in the 13th century (on a wooden altar piece somewhere in Italy - I shall have to look it up)and trade between the various states in Italy and Turkey was well established by the time these were painted. The carpets were horrendously expensive hence their usage in paintings to show wealth of those paying for the painting/the subjects.
Posted by: Pat Temiz | May 10, 2012 at 04:44 AM
My reaction was a bit like G's, Beth. What a challenging, as well as beautiful project. These paintings are among the first I ever loved when I began to look at great art for the first time in an 'art appreciation' class in my last year at high school. Anything that plays on images set so deep inside me is going to be very powerful. But your take is powerful in itself too. Your last comment above moves me very much. I'd love to see more if/when there's more you feel like sharing.
Posted by: Jean | May 10, 2012 at 04:46 AM
This is a fascinating project. To think that this work is so old and yet seems as fresh as yesterday.
Posted by: Hattie | May 10, 2012 at 01:06 PM
Time, perhaps, to play with some articulated paper maquettes!
Posted by: Clive Hicks-Jenkins | May 18, 2012 at 01:46 AM