Carlo Crivelli, 'Predella of La Madonna della Rondine', after 1490
Full title | Predella of La Madonna della Rondine (The Madonna of the Swallow) |
---|---|
Artist | Carlo Crivelli |
Artist dates | about 1430/5 - about 1494 |
Group | Altarpiece from S. Francesco dei Zoccolanti, Matelica |
Date made | after 1490 |
Medium and support | egg tempera with some oil on wood |
Dimensions | 29.2 × 145.5 cm |
Inscription summary | Signed |
Acquisition credit | Bought, 1862 |
Inventory number | NG724.2 |
Location | Not on display |
Collection | Main Collection |
This predella (literally ‘platform’ or ’step‘, the bottom tier of an altarpiece) comes from a large altarpiece that Crivelli painted for the Ottoni family chapel in the Franciscan church at Matelica, in the Italian Marches.
The scenes reflect the patrons’ different interests – one was a churchman, the other a soldier – and tell us more about the holy figures above. Saints Catherine and Jerome on the left represent theological learning, while Saints George and Sebastian on the right were soldiers.
In the centre, the holy family shelter in a ruined building, symbolising the old law that Christ replaced. Through the arch to the right shepherds gaze up in amazement at the choir of angels announcing Christ’s birth, while their dog sleeps on oblivious to the miracle above.
This predella comes from an altarpiece that Crivelli painted for the Ottoni family chapel in the Franciscan church at Matelica. Its scenes reflect the patrons' interests: one was a churchman, the other a soldier.
On our left is Saint Catherine of Alexandria, one hand resting on her main attribute, a spiked wheel. To show off his skill at foreshortening, Crivelli has rotated this so that we see it side on, its spokes retreating at a sharp angle. According to her legend, Catherine was a Christian princess whose arguments defeated those of the Roman philosophers brought to debate with her. When she then refused to marry the Roman emperor, he had her tortured on a wheel. She stands for theological learning and the defence of the Church by intellectual argument. But this is no unwordly academic: from her hair, crown and pearl circlet – pearls were symbols of chastity – to her golden brocade over-dress, its sleeves slashed to show her linen shirt, she is dressed in the height of late fifteenth-century Italian fashion. A translucent veil floats behind her, and elongated features and fingers emphasise her elegance.
At the opposite end, Saint George raises his sword to slay an incongruously small dragon. His stallion rears in alarm, twisting its head up and away from the dragon. In the background the princess kneels on a rocky outcrop, while her father and his subjects watch from the safety of a walled city. This saintly warrior exemplifies the knightly ethic of the Ottoni family (Ranuzio Ottoni was to die fighting against the French in 1510).
The central scenes tell the stories of the figures represented in the main panel of the altarpiece. In the middle is the Nativity. Finding no room at Bethlehem, the holy family have set up camp in the best place available. On the shelves behind them we see pots and pans, a book, a straw-bound carafe and a flask of wine. Through the arch to right shepherds gaze up in amazement at the choir of angels, while their dog sleeps oblivious. To the left other travellers make their way through tidy gardens to the gates of Bethlehem.
To the left, Saint Jerome, his cardinal’s hat hung on a convenient tree, kneels before a crucifix, grasping a stone with which to beat his chest. Before translating the Bible, Jerome was thought to have spent time in the desert repenting his sins. His lion lies like a large dog beside him and around him are desert animals: a snake, a vulture and a dragon, perhaps symbolising temptation overcome and linking him with Saint George. In his roughly built hut is a shelf of domestic odds and ends, a desk loaded with books – the saint took his library with him – and a pen case hanging from the wall.
To the right, Saint Sebastian is martyred. The saint, clearly the same young man shown in the altarpiece’s main panel –- notice his upturned fringe and flying golden locks – has been stripped of his finery and strung up in the bare branches of a tree. Through the arch behind him we see figures strolling in a courtyard, either unmoved or unaware of the martyrdom taking place so close by.
With the exception of Saint Catherine, the soft tones and barren landscapes of the predella scenes contrast vividly with the glowing splendour of the main panel.
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Altarpiece from S. Francesco dei Zoccolanti, Matelica
This large altarpiece was painted by Carlo Crivelli in 1491 for a family chapel in the Franciscan church in Matelica, a small town in the Italian Marches. The Ottoni were the local ruling family – you can see their coat of arms placed conspicuously on the bottom edge of the main panel.
The location heavily influenced the altarpiece’s design. The Ottoni chapel was tall and needed a tall altarpiece: including the frame and predella (the bottom tier) the painting is approximately 2.5 metres high. There was a large window on the back wall of the chapel – which was unusual – so the altar and altarpiece had to be on the side walls. This painting was on the left wall; the light in it comes from the upper right, mimicking the actual light in the chapel.
This large altarpiece was painted by Carlo Crivelli in 1491 for a family chapel in the Franciscan church in Matelica, a small town in the Italian Marches. The Ottoni were the local ruling family – you can see their coat of arms placed conspicuously on the bottom edge of the main panel.
Size, shape and content were all heavily influenced by the intended location. This is a pala, an altarpiece with a single main panel, like The Vision of the Blessed Gabriele, rather than a polyptych. The Ottoni chapel was tall, and needed a tall altarpiece: including the frame and predella the painting is approximately 2.5 metres high. There was a large window on the back wall of the chapel – which was unusual – so the altar and altarpiece had to be on the side walls. In this case, there were two altars, one on each side wall (the other one, attributed to Gentile da Fabriano, remains there to this day). This painting was on the left wall; the light in it comes from the upper right, mimicking the actual light in the chapel.
Unusually, the contract for this painting survives. Dated 11 March 1491, it reveals that the expense of the altarpiece was to be shared between Ranuccio Ottoni and Fra Giorgio di Giacomo, prior of the Franciscan convent at Matelica. The prior paid by far the most – it cost 310 gold florins, of which Ottoni only paid a fraction, perhaps because he had already paid for the chapel’s other altarpiece. The two saints flanking the Virgin reflect this joint enterprise: the scholarly Saint Jerome stands for the interests of the cleric and the soldier Saint Sebastian for the knightly Ottonis.
This painting is one of only three large Renaissance altarpieces in our collection in their original frames. The pala form and the frame’s classical pillars and simulated marble must have seemed modern compared with the gilded Gothic polyptychs chosen by many of Crivelli’s patrons. Such altarpieces were a relatively new phenomenon in Italy; a similar one is Pesellino’s Pistoia Santa Trinità altarpiece. Although the frame would have been made by a specialist craftsman, the designs of the pillars are very similar to those in The Annunciation, with Saint Emidius, painted by Crivelli in 1486. The Ottonis had just built a palace in the fashionable classical style close to San Francesco, and were keeping up with the newest styles in both painting and architecture.