Leonardo and the Last Supper
When Leonardo da Vinci began work on a large fresco in the refectory of the Santa Maria delle Grazie convent near Milan, he was adrift professionally and experiencing a deep crisis of confidence. At 42, he had every reason to believe his best years were behind him, especially since life expectancy in 15th century Italy was a mere 40 years. Despite a native brilliance, many of his most ingenious ideas had never made it beyond his sketchbook, giving him a deep sense of failure. His melancholy worsened upon the destruction of what he considered his signature work, a 75-ton bronze horse sculpted in honor of the father of his patron, the Duke of Milan, Lodovico Sforza. The larger-than-life equestrian statue was melted down and turned into cannons to fight off a French invasion.
By 1495, when Leonardo began work on the mural, he was not the embodiment of Renaissance ideals he is today. Instead, he was a frustrated artist commissioned to paint a mural in a suburban monastery. Nothing about the commission suggested that the m
“Leonardo may have dreamed of constructing tanks and guns, of placing a dome on Milan’s half-built cathedral, or of completing the world’s largest bronze statue,” writes Canadian author Ross King in his latest book “Leonardo and The Last Supper.” “But he was going to do none of these things. Instead, he was going to paint a wall.”
King, who has authored a number of books set in the Renaissance, including “Machiavelli: Philosopher of Power,” masterfully describes how Leonardo’s insecurities about his legacy and inexperience painting frescos influenced the artist’s work.
While “The Last Supper” ultimately made Leonardo’s reputation, King points out that there was little reason to expect much from da Vinci’s mural. In fact, prior to his work on “The Last Supper,” Leonardo had never painted such a large area — the mural’s surface is 460 centimeters by 880 centimeters or 180 inches by 350 inches –and he had very little experience painting on walls.
Despite these challenges, over the course of three years Leonardo threw himself into the work, scouring the streets of Milan for models of Christ and Judas, and devising new artistic techniques to trick the eye and ensure Christ remained the work’s central figure.
The difficulties associated with the project seemed to enliven the artist’s creativity. He was even bold enough to challenge some of the conventions of the day. While the work was to be housed in a monastery whose inhabitants led a life of quiet contemplation, the painting portrays a lively scene with Christ’s disciples carrying on garrulously. According to King, “The Last Supper” turned out to be a masterpiece because it was created during one of the few times in his life that Leonardo was able to “harness and concentrate his relentless energies and restless obsessions.”
King’s book also shows that artistic genius often results from an unlikely combination of frustration, self-doubt, and opportunity. The depiction of Leonardo as a man who was down on his luck is much more appealing than the standard portrayal of the artist as a peerless Renaissance polymath. King manages to humanize da Vinci in a way many other historians have failed to do, making the great man relatable. After all, many of us may not have the genius of Leonardo, but we all want to believe in our lowest moments that we still have a masterpiece somewhere inside us.
Photo courtesy of: mbell 1975 – Flickr
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