When Pope Benedict XI desired some frescoes for the great St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, he sent his courtier to search out the perfect artist for this important project. Arriving in Florence, the courtier made his way to the studio of Giotto di Bondone (circa 1267–1337). The courtier explained his mission and asked the artist for a sample of his work.
According to the story, Giotto took a small canvas, dipped his brush in red paint, and holding his elbow tight to his side like a compass, quickly dashed off a perfect circle. “Here’s your drawing” he said, handing the courtier the canvas. The courtier thought he was being mocked, but Giotto insisted, “Surely this is enough, and more than enough!” The man was perturbed, but he took the rendered circle back to the pope and presented it along with the samples of all the other masters.
The courtier explained to the pope, and all the officials charged with the project, how Giotto had painted the perfect circle unaided. With one sweep of his hand, he’d proven both his technical skill and the mastery of his craft. It had taken him years to gain such proficiency and in the simplest of gestures, he proved himself. Giotto was awarded the commission.
It’s a great story, and as a neophyte first hearing it, I loved the thought of it. Though I didn’t question it then, four decades of preparing proposals for illustration commissions has me seriously doubting the story of the circle. It just doesn’t seem to square with the way these committees work—unless you consider that Giotto was nothing less than a cutting-edge innovator in the world of Florentine art in the 14th century. He was a predecessor to Leonardo da Vinci. Although Giotto might not have written volumes of notebooks, scholars who’ve examined his works have noted some interesting findings.
The great art historian, Giorgio Vasari, wrote that Giotto was responsible for “introducing the technique of drawing accurately from life, which had been neglected for more than two hundred years.” Medieval and Byzantine art was flat, often stylized, and lacking in drama or emotion. Giotto changed that, putting perspective and composition to work in a way that changed the course of Renaissance painting.
Father of the Italian Renaissance
Giotto was trained in the Byzantine manner, but invoked Classical inspiration as he developed his own unique style. He was a keen observer of the world around him. We love to point to Leonardo as the great observer of nature, but Giotto was first. Epoch Times editor Yvonne Marcotte writes that you can see this most clearly in his paintings of St. Francis. Even as Giotto sought to portray a supernatural subject, he did so in such a way that modern scientists can identify plants and rocks.
In the painting “St. Francis of Assisi Receiving the Stigmata,” it is clear that the artist knows the nature of his native region’s limestone. He still composed an iconic image, but there is clearly the sense that the painting is rooted in observation and mastery of painting from life. That is the genius of Giotto. Viewing one of his frescoes, the average person is drawn from the familiar world, beautifully rendered, to the transcendent one.
We are left, therefore, to ponder the veracity of the circle story. Ordinarily, select committees are not impressed by such audacity, but we also know that the truly innovative are known and sought after on the basis of reputation. Their talents and skills are already known. I like to think that Giotto was the sort of innovator whose work spoke for itself and that Pope Benedict knew exactly what he wanted in the frescoes and who he wanted to paint them. The Medieval period was over. The Renaissance had begun, and Benedict knew it had started with Giotto.
