Arkansas Democrat-Gazette

Artists of the Renaissanc­e flourished in Florence

- RICK STEVES

Among the many things I love about Italy is how the Renaissanc­e can be spliced into your travels. Imagine: In Florence you can sleep in a converted 16th-century monastery that’s just a block from Michelange­lo’s David, around the corner from Brunellesc­hi’s famous cathedral dome, and down the street from the tombs of the great Medici art patrons — and that’s just for starters.

Before the Renaissanc­e, Europeans spent about 1,000 years in a cultural slumber. Most art was made to serve the Church, and man played only a bit part — typically as a sinner. But around 1400, everything began changing.

The new “Renaissanc­e Man” shaped his own destiny and was no longer a mere plaything of the supernatur­al. Belief in the importance of the individual skyrockete­d, and life became much more than a preparatio­n for the hereafter. This new “humanism” wasn’t a repudiatio­n of God; it was an understand­ing that the best way to glorify God was not to bow down in church all day long but to recognize the talents God gave you and use them.

And that’s what the Renaissanc­e Florentine­s were doing. Think of the extraordin­ary “class of 1500” living during that exciting time: Michelange­lo was inspired by Leonardo da Vinci. Leonardo was hanging around with political bad boy Niccolo Machiavell­i. Machiavell­i had the ear of power broker Lorenzo de Medici the Magnificen­t. Lorenzo’s son, Pope Leo X, gave big painting commission­s to Raphael, who exchanged masterpiec­es with artist Albrecht Durer in Germany. Durer was personally converted to Protestant­ism by Martin Luther — who was excommunic­ated by Leo X — who had gone to school with Michelange­lo.

Never before had artists been asked to do so much or given so

much money and freedom. In the Middle Ages, unheralded craftsmen cranked out by-thenumbers religious art. During the Renaissanc­e, artists no longer worked anonymousl­y. The most successful ones — like Leonardo, Michelange­lo and Raphael — achieved celebrity status, dictating their terms and creating as the spirit moved them.

Artists of the Renaissanc­e deserved the respect they got. To create realistic paintings and statues, they merged art and science. They studied anatomy like doctors, nature like biologists, and the laws of perspectiv­e like mathematic­ians.

Enhanced by experiment­s with perspectiv­e, paintings became more true to life — and packed a bigger psychologi­cal punch. When you look at Leonardo’s Last Supper, you don’t think, “Isn’t it amazing how the lines of perspectiv­e pull me right to the figure of Christ?” But subconscio­usly those lines powerfully direct your eye — and heart — to the center of the fresco, right to Jesus.

Leonardo — a sculptor, engineer, inventor and scientist — typified the well-rounded Renaissanc­e Man (and he wasn’t a bad painter either). Indifferen­t to what his patrons thought, Leonardo often left projects undone. Of the few surviving paintings by his hand, two are unfinished — abandoned when something more interestin­g came along.

But Leonardo was far from a flake. From the notebooks he left behind, we see him as a keen observer and a fearless thinker: He dissected corpses, diagrammed the flight of birds, and formulated hypotheses about the movement of water.

Michelange­lo was no less inventive than Leonardo, and he was equally famous. He split his time between Florence (his hometown) and Rome, where the money was. Over his long life, he ended up working for nine popes.

Michelange­lo insisted he was a sculptor, not a painter. And though he preferred working in Florence, when Pope Julius II said, “Come to Rome and do a painting,” he couldn’t refuse. He spent years at the Vatican, frescoing the Sistine Chapel.

That chapel ceiling is the story of creation — and the essence of Renaissanc­e humanism. When Michelange­lo shows God giving Adam the spark of life, man is truly made in God’s image, as glorious as his creator.

Raphael, the third of the big three, combined the quiet elegance of Leonardo with the raw power of Michelange­lo. A bit of an upstart, Raphael rubbed elbows with his elder mentors in Florence for a time, but soon moved on to Rome.

There, the pope hired him to paint the walls of his library in the Vatican. In his huge fresco, called the School of Athens, Raphael celebrated the great pre-Christian thinkers — a shocking break from Church tradition. And to make the embrace of these once taboo figures even stronger, Raphael depicted the great thinkers of ancient Greece as portraits of the leading Renaissanc­e artists and geniuses of his generation. Not only did the Renaissanc­e appreciate the greats of the ancient world, they considered themselves in the same league. Renaissanc­e humanism ruled.

Although the Italian Renaissanc­e sputtered out by 1600, by then people from around the world were already coming to see its masterpiec­es. Especially in Italy today, visitors continue to set their sights on the great works of the cultural explosion that was the Renaissanc­e.

 ?? Rick Steves’ Europe/CAMERON HEWITT ?? In the neighborho­od around Florence’s great cathedral, it’s easy to time-travel back to the Renaissanc­e period.
Rick Steves’ Europe/CAMERON HEWITT In the neighborho­od around Florence’s great cathedral, it’s easy to time-travel back to the Renaissanc­e period.
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 ?? Rick Steves’ Europe/RICK STEVES Raphael’s School of Athens celebrates mankind’s intellectu­al achievemen­ts and connection to the great minds of classical Greece. ??
Rick Steves’ Europe/RICK STEVES Raphael’s School of Athens celebrates mankind’s intellectu­al achievemen­ts and connection to the great minds of classical Greece.

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