The New Connoisseurship

The annual meeting of the College Art Association was held this year in New York City from February 13 to 16. It was a huge conference with panels galore and an incredible array of exhibitors.  I took the train down from Connecticut on Friday to have lunch with some other Art history bloggers, and then to attend the panel entitled, “The New Connoisseurship: A Conversation among Scholars, Curators, and Conservators.”

Bloggers at lunch in NYC

It turned out to be a large panel featuring two chairpersons as well as six prestigious presenters from high-powered institutions. Each presenter was slated to give a ten-minute talk, and when all were done there would be a round table discussion. The topic must be important since there were at least 200 people in attendance in the huge West Ballroom of the Hilton hotel.

Chairperson Gail Feigenbaum opened the proceedings with a mini overview of the concept of connoisseurship that included a review of the reasons for its apparent decline despite her belief that it was still “fundamentally indispensable.” She argued that the basic concept was sound enough in that connoisseurship involves both expert knowledge and an informed and discerning taste. However, the decline can be traced to a number of factors.

Noted practitioners of the past often were ignorant of or ignored scientific tools, and today scholars accuse them of being unscientific, and question the value of mere “close looking”.  Moreover, there is still a taint of corruption associated with connoisseurs like Bernhard Berenson who worked very closely with art dealers and collectors. A favorable Berenson opinion could substantially increase the market value of any work of art. Finally, there was a kind of aristocratic aura surrounding the old connoisseurship that offends modern sensibilities. Only the wealthy could afford to dabble in Old Masters, or even think of traveling to Italy to view them.

Bernhard Berenson

The first panelist was Maryan Ainsworth, a distinguished scholar and curator of Renaissance painting at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. She outlined some of the scientific techniques that modern scholars are using to acquire expert knowledge. They study fingerprints in books of Hours in order to assess popularity and usage. Humidity stains are being examined in order to reconstruct old manuscripts. Some are examining the canvas supports of paintings in order to verify the proper placement of panels. Virtual restoration is now enabling scholars to decipher illegible texts in old paintings, and therefore relate the texts more closely to the subject of a painting. Students of Jan van Eyck are even using painted pearls as a kind of digital signature. It would appear that they are almost as good as a signature.

VanEyck: Ghent Altarpiece detail

David Bomfort, a conservator at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, discussed the importance of technical analysis of underpainting and paint samples in the new connoisseurship. These scientific studies can produce what he called “unambiguous  information” that can be helpful in questions of authentication and attribution. As an example, he discussed Altdorfer’s, “Christ Taking Leave of His Mother,” as an example of how technical analysis of pentimenti can help to construct the narrative. In a similar vein E. Melanie Gifford of Washington’s National Gallery followed Bomfort with a discussion of the use of pigment analysis in assessing the still life’s of William van Aelst.

Altdorfer: Christ Taking Leave of His Mother

Carmen C. Bombach of New York’s Metropolitan Museum argued that the “new connoisseurship” placed a much greater emphasis on drawings and preparatory sketches. In her opinion the old connoisseurship tended to ignore or undervalue drawings and concentrate almost exclusively on the finished product. Anyone aware of the value placed on Renaissance drawings in the current art market would have to agree with her.

According to Michelle Marincola of New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts, reproductions of famous images are now seen by modern scholars as important objects of study in themselves. In the old connoisseurship these reproductions were largely ignored since they seemed to lose the power of the original cult image. Marincola argued that now these reproductions, usually depicting the Madonna and Child, can actually be seen as enhancing the prime image especially if one takes into consideration the departures from the original in order to satisfy varying devotional needs.

Elizabeth Honig, an Art historian at the University of California at Berkeley, gave the final presentation, “Oeuvre and the Internet, What Happens when People Stop Using Our Books”. I believe that she was the first to raise the issue of the Internet during the session. In the past her students would have to wade through piles of catalogs and texts but now most of them merely turn to the Web. For example, she pointed to sites devoted to Breughel and Vermeer that were incredibly comprehensive. She acknowledged the problems associated with Web scholarship but still believed that Art history would have to co-opt the Internet.

It is true that many scholars are reluctant to deal with the Internet. One noted Titian scholar told me that he refused to read anything on the Web. Even young scholars at the conference admitted that even if they blogged and used social media, they would still not consider publishing their work on the Web. I believe that it was Dr. Honig who ending her presentation by quoting another scholar, “the Internet is an eight-lane highway but no one’s on it.”

Unfortunately, I had to leave to catch the train before the round table discussion. On the ride home I could not help but think that the “new connoisseurship” was not so much different from the old. There is still a need for expert knowledge and close looking and study are still valuable. Today’s scholars have more arrows in their quiver, and the Internet has opened up the Art world to a much wider audience. Nevertheless, the distinguished panelists at this session still were representative of a kind of aristocracy of the Art world.

###

Raphael: St. Cecilia

In 1514 Elena Duglioli dall'Oglio, a patrician lady and mystic from Bologna, commissioned Raphael to do an altarpiece featuring St. Cecilia for her family chapel in the church of San Giovanni in Monte. The story of this painting is well known and the five main figures are easily identified but  there is still mystery about the reasons for their inclusion.*

St. Cecilia was one of the four great Virgin saints of the Western church. Mrs. Anna Jameson devoted a chapter to her and her legend in “Sacred and Legendary Art”.

The veneration paid to her can be traced back to the third century, in which she is supposed to have lived; and there can be little doubt that the main incidents of her life are founded in fact, though mixed up with the usual amount of marvels, parables and precepts, poetry and allegory…**

She was a chaste virgin who even after her marriage was reputed to have converted her new husband to a life of virginity. They both eventually suffered martyrdom. Somehow she also became the patron saint of music and the creator of the organ.

As she excelled in music, she turned her good gift to the glory of God, and composed hymns, which she sang herself with such ravishing sweetness that even the angels descended from heaven to listen to her, or to join their voices to hers. She played on all instruments, but none sufficed to breathe forth that flood of harmony with which her whole soul was filed: therefore she invented the organ, consecrating it to the service of God.

Nevertheless, Mrs. Jameson believed that only in the fifteenth century did artists begin to depict Cecilia with musical instruments. She rightly pointed out that the most famous version was Raphael’s version now in Bologna’s Pinacoteca Nazionale. In Raphael’s painting St. Cecilia stands in ecstasy among her cast-down instruments whose music bears no comparison with that of heaven. Despite her uplifted eyes, her sandals indicate that she is still of this world. Her heavenly onlookers are barefoot, a sign of their superior status.

It is easy to understand why the visionary Elena Duglioli dall’Oglio would want to feature St. Cecilia in the altarpiece of her chapel. Although a married woman, she too lived a life of celibacy. But the presence of the other saints has been difficult to explain. In his magisterial study of Raphael Oskar Fischel wrote,

The reasons that may have existed for the choice of the saints surrounding Cecilia have remained hitherto completely in the dark; and yet their relationships to the person of the lady who gave the commission and to the place of its destination were not unfamiliar to Raphael. At that time nothing of the content of a devotional picture can have been left to the artist; only in Raphael did every commission work itself out as a self-chosen theme, thanks to his free and dominating imagination and to the profound culture by virtue of which he adopted everything and caused it to become part of his own vital experience.*** 

St. John the Evangelist and St. Augustine are in the background but St. Paul and Mary Magdalen are figured much more prominently in the foreground. Fischel thought that they all were representations of love.

the significance of these saints precisely to the donors of the picture can scarcely be surmised. Only St John is adequately explained as patron of the church of san Giovanni in Monte—the “disciple whom Jesus loved” …He exchanges a glance of tearful radiance with the Doctor of the Church, St Augustine,…”How often have I wept at thy hymns of praise and chants, filling thy Church with soft strains, and have been stirred by its voices to the very depths.” …He too is a confessor of love:…”our heart is restless until it rests in Thee.”…
St. John seems to come from St. Paul: he understands the sublime Apostle—in the book on which the eagle stands there is a sign with the word “Corin”; here, then—from I Corinthians xiii—we have the explanation of the connection between St. Paul and the Magdalen. The Apostle mighty in speech acknowledges of himself: “though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.” There at his feet lies the allegory—but at this point St Mary Magdalen may come in; she that “loved much” goes “in peace”.*** 

Fischel argued that the figure of St. Paul could not just be explained allegorically.

It is to him precisely that Raphael acknowledged himself to be indebted, by him attracted...the painter of the figure was no stranger to the character of the great preacher of Conversion. Raphael at that time lived with the words of St. Paul. When, in the course of his work on the Disputa, the pages of his sketchbook were being filled with ideas for the figures, a hasty sketch was made for St Paul with his sword…And then, on a drawing at Oxford, for the Disputa, line after line is set down for a sonnet out of an overflowing sense of bliss, occasioned by an incident by night which must remain for the world in obscurity, Raphael discovers that his tongue is bound in a sudden kinship with the Apostle…***

 Fischel himself then began to wax rhapsodically.

And now, as the Apostle stands beside Cecilia, these ineffable hymns are re-echoed from above, and the hand of the apostle is laid like a clamp upon his chin, checking every word,…His fingers merely play about the pommel of his menacing sword; more important for him seem to be the letter, the Epistles they are clutching….in him Raphael embodied his ideal for society, the “cortegiano” perfect in his power, in an equilibrium of essence and semblance…***

At this point Mary Magdalen joins the group from the right, and invites the viewer to enter the scene.

Thus by the moving power of the back view of this figure, who has with sweeping cloak just entered the circle of the elect, the worshipper is, as it were, carried along with it into the region of other-worldly happenings—seized, with St Paul, by a sense of the vanity of all action “that has not charity”; and a bridge is thrown across to link him with her who “loved much” and therefore, her sins forgiven, may enter in before many.***

There is a text that also linked St. Paul and Mary Magdalen in the popular imagination of the time. In the third volume of his classic work on Medieval iconography, Emile Male discussed a small book whose fame spread all over Europe during the fifteenth century. The book was the Ars moriendi (The Art of Dying).

The text was often striking, but it was the astonishing woodcuts above all that spread its fame throughout Europe…. death appears not as a farcical dance, but as a serious drama played around the bed of the dying man; angel and devil stand at his side, contending for the soul that will soon depart. #

Male based his discussion on a 1492 French commentary, the L’Art de bien vivre et de bien mourir (The Art of Good Living and Good dying), a “book that edified all Europe.” [349-350]. After a series of temptations where the devil is unable to shake the dying man’s faith, the devil tries another approach.

Hideous monsters again rove around the sick man’s bed. One presents him with a large parchment document: this is the list “of all the evils that the poor creature has committed during his sojourn on earth.”…#

But the angel intervenes and brings four helpers.

They are St. Peter, who thrice denied his Master; Mary Magdalene, the sinner; St. Paul, the persecutor whom God struck down to convert him; and the good thief, who repented on the cross. These are the great witnesses of divine mercy….”do not despair. Even though you had committed as many crimes as there are drops of water in the sea, one contrite impulse of the heart is enough. God is greater than the greatest crimes.”#

Raphael received the commission for the St. Cecilia in 1514. At the same time Titian was working on “The Sacred and Profane Love”. I have interpreted that famous and mysterious painting as “The Conversion of Mary Magdalen”, and argued that Titian included a depiction of the conversion of St. Paul on the centrally located antique relief.

It is hard to imagine today but the ideas of conversion and repentance must have been like a tsunami in Renaissance Europe. We like to think of the Renaissance as the revival of the gods and goddesses of antiquity but figures like St. Paul and Mary Magdalen were of far greater importance in the minds of contemporary believers. At the same time as Raphael and Titian were bringing Christian art to a new level, Martin Luther, an Augustinian monk in Germany, who had struggled for years with his own sinfulness, finally found conversion and salvation in the epistles of St. Paul. ###

*For a very thorough discussion see "Virgin Cults and Raphael's St. Cecilia" at the popular Art history blog, Three Pipe Problem.

**Anna Jameson: Sacred and Legendary Art, Vol. II, Boston, 1885. pp. 571-2.

***Oskar Fischel, Raphael, London, 1948, pp. 246-8.

#Emile Male, Religious Art in France, The Late Middle Ages, Princeton,1986, pp. 348-351.

Addendum:

Here is an image of San Giovanni in Monte supplied by David Orme. See comments for his note on the site in Bologna.

San Giovanni in Monte, Bologna

Titian: Sacred and Profane Love, Relief summary

In my previous three posts on Titian’s “Sacred and Profane Love” I have discussed the figures in the antique relief that is placed so prominently in the center of the famous painting. I have argued that the three scenes represent great sinners: Adam and Eve around the Tree of Knowledge on the right; Cain and Abel toward the center; and on the left side St. Paul being thrown from his horse on the road to Damascus. The relief then has a direct relationship to the real subject of the painting that I have identified as, “The Conversion of Mary Magdalen.” See link for full paper..

Today I would like to deal with some possible objections to my interpretation and also present a summary account of the relief.  At the outset I would like to point out that my interpretation of the relief does not fly in the face of any settled opinion on the subject. For the most part scholars have either thrown in the towel, or just offered the scantiest of guesses.

However, in 2001 Paul Joannides, in his study of the young Titian, provided a somewhat thorough examination. He noted the similarity of the relief to an equally mysterious one in an earlier work by Titian, "Jacopo Pesaro presented to St. Peter."

The grey marble trough of the sarcophagus contains a relief. Like that below Peter in Jacopo Pesaro presented to St. Peter, it is not based on any identified classical source but seems to be the invention of the artist.*

In the case of the "Sacred and Profane Love" h e admitted that it would be “reasonable to suppose that the relief had some significance” but noted that so far there has been no plausible elucidation. He did agree that it “would seem odd if so prominent a scene had no relevance to the main one,” and so decided to take a close look. Here is his description of the relief in the “Sacred and Profane Love”.

Starting from the left an engagement of some type, perhaps but not necessarily, a struggle, is proceeding between two figures, one, at the far left clearly male, the other, partly obscured behind the hind quarters of a horse, perhaps, but not certainly, female. The horse, which bears neither saddle nor bridle, is being led calmly left to right by a nude male figure, although since he is partly obscured by the shrub, it is difficult to ascertain exactly the nature of his action. This scene is separated by the bronze nozzle from that to the right which shows a violent episode; a nude woman lying on the ground, is being beaten—probably but not certainly on the buttocks—by a nude man. Taken literally, the scene appears to be one of punishment rather than murder or sexual assault. This group is represented in notional high relief; behind it, in lower relief, is a nude woman, standing to the left of a tree, across which a nude man is advancing towards her from the right, but without any clear intent.

He then paused for a moment to consider the possibility that the nude woman lying on the ground could be a man and the possible implication.

If, on the right-hand side, the sprawled figure could reasonably be identified as male, then the scene might represent Cain killing Abel, in which case the couple behind could be their parents, Adam and Eve either side of the tree of knowledge. But aside from the relative unlikelihood of representing an Old Testament scene on a classical sarcophagus, such a reading of the figures is not convincing, nor would it appear to relate in any way to the scene at the left. The most one can say about it is that a punishment and a conflict do seem to be represented and that it is treated in a specific—and surely meaningful way. 

In other words, Joannides saw Adam and Eve, and Cain and Abel but couldn’t believe his own eyes. Two objections deterred him from seeing the relief as a “sacred” subject. In the first place, “there was the relative unlikelihood of representing an Old Testament scene on a classical sarcophagus.” Secondly, he could not see how the biblical scenes from Genesis could relate to the left hand side of the relief. A third objection was left unsaid. Since there is a great likelihood that the centrally located relief is related to the painting as a whole, to see a scriptural subject in the relief would point to a “sacred” subject for the “Sacred and Profane Love.”

Here is another line of reasoning. The figure on the left hand side of the painting is St. Paul who not only called himself the greatest of sinners but who was also one of the great propounders of the doctrine of original sin. He referred to it continually in his letters and felt its effect in his own life. He argued that because of the Fall, sin and death entered the world, and that it was only through the grace of God that he was freed from their clutches.

The conversion of St. Paul fits very well in a relief that also depicts Adam and Eve, as well as the story of Cain and Abel, the first instance of the presence of sin and death in the world. If this relief is a sacred subject, scholars might also want to take another look at Titian’s earlier attempt at an antique relief in Jacopo Pesaro being Presented to St. Peter. The subject of that relief has also eluded identification but I think I see Adam and Eve on the left. Why is it unthinkable that Titian would use an antique relief to depict a scriptural scene? Art historians have to fit their theories to the actual work of the artist and not vice versa.

Finally, I have wondered, along with some correspondents, why the action in the relief seems to move from right to left. You will notice that Joannides in his above description of the relief read it in the traditional way from left to right. Normally, in a narrative painting the action does begin in the left background and progresses through the mid-ground until it culminates with the foreground figures who are either in the center or off to the right. Giovanni Bellini did so in the Frick “St. Francis in the Desert”, and so did Giorgione in the “Tempest.”

In my interpretation of the “Sacred and Profane Love”, I have argued that Titian employed the same left to right narrative scheme. As is often the case the city in the left background is a place of spiritual and even physical danger. The sinful Magdalen has left the city behind and now sits on the sarcophagus in the foreground contemplating her own conversion. We move across the water filled sarcophagus to see her own resurrection to a new life. She appears on the right side of the sarcophagus bereft of her worldly finery. Behind her in the right background the scene, where she will spend the rest of her life, is bucolic and peaceful.

I can only guess as to why Titian might have chosen to have the action on the relief move from right to left. First, it could have been just a painterly decision to have the action on the relief counterbalance the action in the main scene. It is after all a very large painting. I also wonder if he might have just used a copy of an engraving as a cartoon for the relief and just flipped the scene.

On a more profound level, perhaps Titian or his patron wanted the action on the relief to move backwards in time. So we can begin on the left and trace the action back from a story of a conversion from a life of sin to the origins of sin itself. Here is my view of the relief reading from right to left.

Adam stands on the extreme right on one side of the tree. Eve is on the other side and her outstretched arm actually touches her son Cain in the act of murdering his brother. Abel lies on the ground but he faces left away from his parents. In the medieval period Abel, whose sacrifice was acceptable to the Lord, was always viewed as a precursor of Christ. Dividing the relief in half is the spigot with flowing water, and right next to it is the emblem of the donor. On the left side, Paul’s attendant still leads the horse toward Damascus but Paul falls off in the other direction towards a new life. 

###

*Paul Joannides, Titian to 1518, The Assumption of Genius, Yale, 2001, p. 192.

Titian: "Sacred and Profane Love" Conversion of St. Paul

The meaning of the figures on the antique relief in the center of Titian’s “Sacred and Profane Love” has eluded scholars for centuries. In this post I would like to discuss the horse so prominently depicted on the left side.

In my paper on the “Sacred and Profane Love” I argued that the subject of the mysterious painting is the “Conversion of Mary Magdalen”, and that the figures on the antique relief must therefore be depictions of great sinners.

In my previous two posts I elaborated on my discussion in the paper and looked at the right side of the relief where we can now identify Adam and Eve as well as Cain and Abel. On the left side of the relief we can see a horse whose rider appears to be falling off. We can also make out two other men in front of and in back of the horse.

Why has no one ever seen the conversion of St. Paul in this scene? Anytime, we see a riderless horse in a painting from the Renaissance we should suspect that the artist has attempted to depict the famous conversion on the road to Damascus. Here is the account of Paul’s conversion from chapter 9 of the Acts of the Apostles:

And as he went on his journey, it came to pass that he drew near to Damascus, when suddenly a light from heaven shone round about him; and falling to the ground, he heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why dost thou persecute me?” And he said, “Who art thou, Lord?” And he said, “I am Jesus, whom thou art persecuting. It is hard for you to kick against the goad.” And he, trembling and amazed, said, “Lord, what wilt thou have me do?” And the Lord said to him, “Arise and go into the city, and it will be told thee what thou must do.” Now the men who journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing indeed the voice, but seeing no one. And Saul arose from the ground, but when his eyes were opened, he could see nothing. And leading him by the hand, they brought him into Damascus.

Although there is no mention of a horse in the scriptural account, it had become part and parcel of the story as early as the fourth century despite the objection of St. Augustine who argued that a Pharisee would never ride a horse. By the Renaissance the horse had become part of the common Catholic imagination and was usually included in artistic representations. 

For our purposes other important parts of the account would be the light from heaven that shone round Paul and forced him to fall to the ground. The voice of Jesus is heard but he does not appear. Also, Paul is accompanied by other men who hear the voice but stand by as speechless spectators.

In Titian's relief Paul is actually falling off the horse's hind quarters. One attendant can be seen in front of the horse, and another tries to prevent Paul's fall at the rear. 

Everyone is familiar with Caravaggio’s famous depiction of the event that still remains in its original location in the Cerasi chapel of S. Maria del Popolo in Rome. Paul lies on the ground, arms upraised toward the light and the horse towers over him.

  

Caravaggio: Conversion of Paul

Other depictions of the event often present a more tumultuous scene but still include the light, the other men, and the horse. These elements must have been commonplace even before the sixteenth century. Here is a famous tapestry made from a Raphael cartoon.

Tapestry from Raphael cartoon

Early in his career Giovanni Bellini also depicted the conversion of Paul.

Giovanni Bellini: Conversion of Paul

I know that Renaissance artists loved to depict horses but when we see a riderless horse in a seemingly inexplicably scene, we should at least consider the possibility of the conversion of Paul.

There is more than one reason why Titian or his patron might have wanted to include St. Paul in a painting representing the conversion of Mary Magdalen. The conversion stories of both saints were equally famous. At the same time, they were both symbols of sinners converted by divine love.

In researching this piece I turned to the always reliable Emile Male. In his magisterial study of later Medieval art Male re-discovered two extremely popular books of the fifteenth century that have subsequently slipped back into oblivion. The first was the Ars moriendi (the Art of dying):* 

The text was often striking, but it is the astonishing woodcuts above all that spread its fame throughout Europe….death appears not as a farcical dance, but as a serious drama played around the bed of the dying man; angel and devil stand at his side, contending for the soul that will soon depart...

The success of the Ars moriendi was even more extraordinary than the success of the Danse Macabre. Printed editions began to appear after the woodcut editions. Each country had its own…It appeared in turn in French, German, English, Italian, and Spanish….Even Italy, where Gothic barbarity was so scorned, was influenced by the crude woodcuts of the Ars moriendi, although it is true it robbed them of most of their original character. 

The other book was a commentary on the Ars moriendi in an edition published by Verard entitled "L’Art de Bien Vivre et de Bien mourir (The Art of Good Living and Good dying)".  Male noted that a "book that edified all Europe is worth some study." 

Verard's commentary includes a number of episodes with corresponding woodcuts where devils and angels compete for the soul of the dying man. In one episode Mary Magdalen and St. Paul appear with St. Peter and the Good Thief to console the dying man.

When the devil cannot shake the dying man’s faith, he changes tactics. He no longer denies God, but represents him as inexorable….Hideous monsters again rove around the sick man’s bed. One presents him with a large parchment document: this is the list “of all the evils that the poor creature has committed during his sojourn on earth.”…
The angel again descends from heaven, accompanied by four saints. They are St. Peter, who thrice denied his Master; Mary Magdalene, the sinner; St. Paul, the persecutor whom God struck down to convert him; and the good thief, who repented on the cross. These are the great witnesses of divine mercy….

The woodcut shows Mary Magdalene with her jar of ointment and St. Paul is shown atop the fallen horse. the woodcut is dated 1492. In the same year (1514) that Titian painted the "Sacred and Profane Love" Raphael did his famous depiction of St. Cecilia surrounded by four saints. Two of them were St. Paul and Mary Magdalen. ###

Raphael: St. Cecilia with St. Paul and  Mary Magdalen

*Emile Male, Religious Art in France, The Late Middle Ages, Princeton, 1986, pp. 348-351.

Titian: Sacred and Profane Love. Relief Figures of Adam and Eve

In my interpretation of Titian’s “Sacred and Profane Love” I identified the subject of the mysterious painting as the “Conversion of Mary Magdalen.” Seeing the painting as a “sacred subject” opened the way to an explanation of the figures on the equally mysterious relief. In a post last week I showed that even the greatest scholars had been unable or unwilling to deal with the figures on the relief.

Last week I discussed the two figures immediately to the right of center and identified them as Cain and Abel. It was not difficult to show that the image of a man in the act of delivering a blow to another man lying prone on the ground was the common way of depicting Cain’s murder of his brother. Titian himself used the same template years later.

In this post I will turn to the two nude figures to the right of Cain and Abel. How is it possible that scholars and others have never been able to identify the nude man and woman standing around a tree as Adam and Eve? What other woman is ever portrayed in full frontal nudity standing by a tree other than Eve. It is a little more difficult to see Adam but if we look closely we see him there on the other side of the tree.

The image of Adam and Eve standing around the tree at the moment of the Fall was probably ubiquitous during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. It was sculpted on exterior walls and on the interiors of churches and baptistries. Here is an example from the exterior of the Doge’s palace in Venice.

A quick search of the web will also reveal Adam and Eve around the tree on some famous paintings. In the Brancacci chapel Masaccio painted the  expulsion from the garden but Masolino, his associate, portrayed the first couple completely nude by the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil right before the Fall.

Later Raphael used the same motif in the Stanze.

Finally, here is a Titian depiction of Adam and Eve around the tree from around 1550. (Prado)

How have scholars not been able to see Adam and Eve on the relief of the “Sacred and Profane Love”?  In his classic study of the art and iconography of the Middle Ages Emile Male noted a similar problem in his own time. He raised the issue in a discussion of carved calendars on famous Medieval cathedrals.

The most beautiful carved calendars are at Chartres, Paris, Amiens, and Reims. They are works of true poetry. In these small scenes, man appears in eternal attitudes. The artist probably intended to represent the peasant of France, but it is also a man of all time, bent toward the earth, the immortal Adam. In their universality, these thirteenth-century reliefs avoid banality. The artists, who themselves did not live far from nature, had experienced this life in all its detail, for just beyond the walls of small medieval towns lay the real country with its tilled fields, its meadows, the beautiful rhythm of its Virgilian labors…when sculptors were imagining scenes of rustic life, they had only to look around them for models….

It is hard to believe that the obvious meaning of these scenes escaped early nineteenth-century archeologists. In 1806, Lenoir interpreted the twelve scenes illustrating the calendar of the cathedral of Cambrai as the twelve labors of Hercules. Dupuis, author of L’Origine de tous les cultes, did identify the signs of the zodiac on the façade of Notre-Dame of Paris, but from this he concluded that the cult of the sun or of Mithra had survived into the thirteenth century. *

Even today scholars and students expend enormous amounts of time and energy trying to find the equivalents of Hercules and Mithras in some of the most beautiful paintings of the High Renaissance. I believe that they are often looking in the wrong place, and often fail to see what would have been obvious to any Venetian artist, patron and even man in the street.  ###

* Emile Male: Religious Art in France, the Thirteenth Century, Princeton, 1986, p. 69.