That is our secret. We will depict the impossible.’
Paolo was asked to make charcoal for the preparatory drawings – the Virgin as Mother of God and Queen of Heaven, holding the Christ child, with the four patron saints of the city kneeling below: Ansanus, Savinus, Crescentius, and Victor.
‘Hold still,’ cried Simone. ‘You make a perfect saint. Keep working.’
As Paolo bound each twig of willow, Simone began to draw him. The pale face and blond hair curling under the ears. The thin nose. Long fingers. And Paolo’s strangely quiet blue eyes, endlessly puzzled, curious, surprised.
‘Which saint am I?’
‘Ansanus, the young Roman nobleman who first baptised the Sienese. Try to look more spiritual.’
‘I don’t feel very spiritual.’
‘Then look serene.’
‘Can’t I just be myself?’
‘No, no, that is not the point at all. Have you not listened to anything I have said? We must turn men into angels and make the heavens sing. Colour and joy. We are painting infinity,’ Simone cried.
Over three hundred councillors assembled to discuss the commission. Each painter had been asked to present his ideas in the council chamber where the Signori of the Nine, and the Consiglio della Campana gathered around their drawings. One painter suggested a celebratory painting of the recent acquisition of Talamone and a glorious gallery of all lands recently conquered. Another put forward his plan for an enormous panel of the Battle of Montaperti and the conquest of Montalcino; while a third proposed a representation of the day Buonaguida Lucari had laid the keys of the city on the altar of the cathedral and donated all that they had to the mercy of the Virgin Mary, their protectress against the iniquitous and evil Florentines.
As his rivals struggled to make their case, Simone was both impatient and exhilarated, for he was convinced that none could match his vision of divine beneficence.
‘This is my plan,’ he announced. ‘The Court of Heaven and the Seat of Good Government presiding over us all. I will paint the other, eternal world: things unseen and unimagined. The fresco will be a banner from heaven and a blessing on earth, containing all riches. Wisdom. Stillness. Calm. I will show you wonders.’
He walked over to the windows. ‘As the light from the south wall forever changes, so will this painting. Each time you look you will discover truth. The Virgin will sit high above us in an exquisitely embroidered mantle, a garment so rich and so beautiful that it will make the textile workers weep to see it. Her throne will echo that which sits below in the council chamber, and her seat will be our inspiration for both justice and mercy. She will offer us the Christ child, our salvation from death, our guide to the divine and our Redeemer. The scroll held by the child will be of paper, the text of ink. Love justice, you who love the earth . The Book of Wisdom.
‘Everything about this Maestà will reflect the majesty of maternal love. There will be jewels in the clothing of the Madonna and diamonds in the tracery of the windows behind her. In the distance the sky will darken into an infinite blue without limit, for there is no end to the glory of paradise. I will turn pigments from the earth, real earth, into heaven.’
Simone made a low bow.
‘I offer you stillness, joy, and peace. My painting will depict our gift from God, the everlasting bounty of heaven, and the grace of our salvation. I have seen this beauty. Only let me paint it for you, here in this room, a divine blessing on our fair and noble city.’
The councillors were silent. The commission was won.
By the time Simone returned home to the workshop he was drunk.
‘Victory,’ he cried. ‘Victory by St Victor. This is a noble day. We have routed our enemies and made straight the high road to our salvation. The whole town attests to my brilliance.’
At first his apprentices were almost frightened by such exuberance, unable to understand
Paolo was asked to make charcoal for the preparatory drawings – the Virgin as Mother of God and Queen of Heaven, holding the Christ child, with the four patron saints of the city kneeling below: Ansanus, Savinus, Crescentius, and Victor.
‘Hold still,’ cried Simone. ‘You make a perfect saint. Keep working.’
As Paolo bound each twig of willow, Simone began to draw him. The pale face and blond hair curling under the ears. The thin nose. Long fingers. And Paolo’s strangely quiet blue eyes, endlessly puzzled, curious, surprised.
‘Which saint am I?’
‘Ansanus, the young Roman nobleman who first baptised the Sienese. Try to look more spiritual.’
‘I don’t feel very spiritual.’
‘Then look serene.’
‘Can’t I just be myself?’
‘No, no, that is not the point at all. Have you not listened to anything I have said? We must turn men into angels and make the heavens sing. Colour and joy. We are painting infinity,’ Simone cried.
Over three hundred councillors assembled to discuss the commission. Each painter had been asked to present his ideas in the council chamber where the Signori of the Nine, and the Consiglio della Campana gathered around their drawings. One painter suggested a celebratory painting of the recent acquisition of Talamone and a glorious gallery of all lands recently conquered. Another put forward his plan for an enormous panel of the Battle of Montaperti and the conquest of Montalcino; while a third proposed a representation of the day Buonaguida Lucari had laid the keys of the city on the altar of the cathedral and donated all that they had to the mercy of the Virgin Mary, their protectress against the iniquitous and evil Florentines.
As his rivals struggled to make their case, Simone was both impatient and exhilarated, for he was convinced that none could match his vision of divine beneficence.
‘This is my plan,’ he announced. ‘The Court of Heaven and the Seat of Good Government presiding over us all. I will paint the other, eternal world: things unseen and unimagined. The fresco will be a banner from heaven and a blessing on earth, containing all riches. Wisdom. Stillness. Calm. I will show you wonders.’
He walked over to the windows. ‘As the light from the south wall forever changes, so will this painting. Each time you look you will discover truth. The Virgin will sit high above us in an exquisitely embroidered mantle, a garment so rich and so beautiful that it will make the textile workers weep to see it. Her throne will echo that which sits below in the council chamber, and her seat will be our inspiration for both justice and mercy. She will offer us the Christ child, our salvation from death, our guide to the divine and our Redeemer. The scroll held by the child will be of paper, the text of ink. Love justice, you who love the earth . The Book of Wisdom.
‘Everything about this Maestà will reflect the majesty of maternal love. There will be jewels in the clothing of the Madonna and diamonds in the tracery of the windows behind her. In the distance the sky will darken into an infinite blue without limit, for there is no end to the glory of paradise. I will turn pigments from the earth, real earth, into heaven.’
Simone made a low bow.
‘I offer you stillness, joy, and peace. My painting will depict our gift from God, the everlasting bounty of heaven, and the grace of our salvation. I have seen this beauty. Only let me paint it for you, here in this room, a divine blessing on our fair and noble city.’
The councillors were silent. The commission was won.
By the time Simone returned home to the workshop he was drunk.
‘Victory,’ he cried. ‘Victory by St Victor. This is a noble day. We have routed our enemies and made straight the high road to our salvation. The whole town attests to my brilliance.’
At first his apprentices were almost frightened by such exuberance, unable to understand
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