Giotto, Virtues and Vices: Faith
The episcopal shroud and the reflective facial expression immediately immerse the viewer into a serious, even grave context. This countenance adheres to medieval iconic standards more than any other in the whole group of fourteen allegories, and purposefully so. If there should be a face associating with an artistic religious norm of the icon, Faith would make the most natural candidate, as it brings along, by way of resemblance and familiarity, the thousands of similar expressions seen in the preceding works of art. Giotto amplifies the theme of faith by a simple acknowledgment, tribute and adherence, and, perhaps, because of that, Faith has a slight advantage over the other allegories. It summarizes and epitomizes, truly iconic, it draws meaning from as many threads as there are different icons. All of these make the accordance between the theme and its presentation fully realized and eventually perfect.
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The attributes the figure is carrying speak for themselves: the cross-staff is a self-evident symbol, whereas the scroll, seemingly in ancient Greek, is probably one of the Gospels. The key, the smallest of the objects, is more obscure, both visually and symbolically — probably signifying the “key” to the truth, or the Gospel of truth held in the left hand. Additionally, she stands on a few tablets with some unidentifiable (by me) letters, probably a text concerned with other religions. This seems like a violent act; I also think that the staff appears quite intimidating, as is the direct fixed gaze, and both hands, nearly clasped into fists. In light of these threats, the elegantly bent right leg somehow falls out compositionally, displaying a sign of lenience and gentleness. On the one hand, this might had been the artist’s way to reveal the churches force as tamed and controlled by mercy, but, on the other, he could have tried to expose hypocrisy — the church’s pretense of charity while being violent cruel.
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Strangely enough, the latter case is easier to accept, because at that time even the thought of church criticism was so improbable. Giotto could have simply exploited the weakness (or should I say the vice?) of self-satisfaction, complacency and eventually pride to subvert some of the most appalling dogmas that found their way into practice through the inquisition and the crusades. In a way, he can be considered as Michelangelo’s forerunner in this respect: the creator of David and the painter of the Last Judgment defied the church by depicting the nude human body; Giotto preceded him by portraying betraying movements. And this is another notable thing about the renaissance — artists begin to use their medium as a sphere for the expression of extraneous ideas, political and/or social. Art reaches beyond decoration to exert influence in other human activities; a slow humanistic upheaval takes place.
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