WARSAW, Poland—Imagine walking into a room full of people all vying for your attention. Each one of them has a unique voice, style, and message just for you. You might listen to the loudest person first, or those closest to you, before visiting the others in the room. After a while, your attention wanes; even if the next person you meet has the best message ever, you’re just not listening.
This is how I experience visiting museums, art galleries, or stately homes. Each great artwork, object, or architectural feature grapples for my attention. It’s fascinating, but sometimes overwhelming. So to avoid fatigue, I prioritize what I see or even split my visit over several days.
The Royal Castle
Recently, I visited an art and architectural feast for the senses: The Royal Castle in Warsaw. Besides my tour of the castle itself, I included on my must-see list two portraits by Rembrandt, the temporary exhibition “Botticelli Tells a Story: Paintings of Renaissance Masters From the Collection of Accademia Carrara,” a room full of Warsaw cityscapes painted by Venetian artist Bernardo Bellotto, and the “Paolo Uccello—‘Madonna With Child’” exhibition, which only just made my list. That was my mistake.I’d previously seen Uccello’s Gothic-style painting “Madonna With Child” online; its muted colors and Mary’s elongated fingers and rather vacant facial expression didn’t endear me to the work. But seeing this painting in person, I found myself drawn to it. The colors came to life. It didn’t matter that the figures weren’t perfect or in proportion; the pure intent of the painting spoke to me on a level I cannot quite comprehend.
In the painting, Uccello depicted the moment that Mary understands her son’s fate, and her ultimate sacrifice—that her son must die for our salvation. Childhood innocence and divine providence appear in the painting. Mary faces the viewer, but gazes devoutly up to God. Christ stands on his mother’s lap, while cooing at the bird in her hand. He’s totally fixated on it. He holds his hands as if he’s about to bless the bird, but equally he could be reaching out to hold it, as any child naturally would. Christ’s curiosity seems natural for any child, yet Christians know that the bird depicted, traditionally the goldfinch, symbolizes the Passion of Christ.
Uccello gave Mary a pregnant glow and a halo to emphasize the sacred scene. Gazing at Mary’s facial expression, I saw her piety. She looks up to God, accepting that her faith comes first, before any earthly matters, including the mother-child bond. It humbled me.
Uccello painted the piece around 1430. Paint layers have flaked away over the centuries to reveal part of the artist’s painting process. This can be fully appreciated when the viewer is face-to-face with the work. Uccello had originally depicted a nude Christ, with Mary holding him by placing her hand under his bottom. We can see this previous composition due to the now deteriorated top layer of paint in that area.
We can also see that Uccello created three-dimensional elements in the painting by using the new mathematical perspective technique. Uccello, like his contemporary Masaccio, pioneered the use of single-point perspective. Notice Christ’s foreshortened halo and the simple throne that Mary sits upon.
Uccello’s Perspective
Uccello (1397–1475) mainly created decorative works and religious paintings. He worked in the Quattrocento, when the Gothic style of the Middle Ages gave way to Early Renaissance style.The 16th-century art historian Giorgio Vasari, in his work “The Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects,” gives us an insight into Uccello. Born Paolo di Dono, he became known as Paolo Uccello (“Paolo of the Birds”) due to his love of animals, particularly birds. He couldn’t afford to keep pets, so he decorated the family home with his drawings and paintings of all manner of creatures.
Vasari detailed Uccello’s genius for investigating and drawing perspective, which seems to have become an unhealthy obsession. Uccello’s friend, the sculptor Donatello (who trained with Uccello’s master, the sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti) warned him: “Ah, Paolo, this perspective of thine makes thee abandon the substance for the shadow; these are things that are only useful to men who work at the inlaying of wood, seeing that they fill their borders with chips and shavings, with spirals both round and square, and with other similar things.” But Uccello continued to investigate and perfect complex perspectives to the point that he practically became a hermit. “Oh, what a sweet thing is this perspective!” Uccello said, according to Vasari. Uccello’s extensive work in perspective inspired Renaissance treatises by eminent artists such as Albrecht Dürer, Leonardo da Vinci, and Piero della Francesca, according to The Art Story website.
Only by standing in front of Uccello’s “Madonna With Child” could I appreciate the inner depth of this piece. The artwork reminded me to give similar works more than a second glance, to take my time to appreciate the artistry and the message conveyed beyond the surface technique. Now that’s a sweet perspective.
