This is an epic scene that ensues from memory: a mental imprint transferred onto canvas. There are several features that support this thesis. First, the green grassy surface lacks detail — such smudged representations usually echo from the dreamy, simplified and reduced to a few principal details reminiscences. Second, there is the focus on the orange dress and the central couple as one of those details that deserve the maximal attention; the rest dance in the background as a visual accompaniment, or a sort of a filler. Finally, the two women on the edges manifest possible emotional developments of the central female dancer. As it often occurs in dreams and memories, the mind clones the protagonist into several alter-actors; I believe that these two girls embody the orange dressed lady’s fears and hopes, one being of death or abandonment, expressed by mourning (the black dress), the other of matrimony and happiness (the white dress).
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At some point of my critiquing career I disliked Munch because I thought the man used too many symbols at the expense of mastering basic drawing skills. But at a later stage I realized that though his drawing often indeed isn’t perfect, it is not a sufficient reason to reject the artist and deprive his artwork of the feverishly sought for benefits of my analysis… On a more serious note, I recently reviewed a Munch monograph and fell in love with his strange, cold-fiery style. I think that his paintings resemble the kind of people we often encounter in books, described as cool-headed on the outside but violently intense and turbulent on the inside. I suppose that it is the visual power of symbolism, the generic category of most of Munch’s work, that can be ascribed the capacity to communicate the tumults boiling beneath the painterly surface. Eventually, it is difficult to remain untouched at the sight of almost scorching sadness that permeates much of the artist’s output.
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Injustice is the only clearly identifiable male figure among the allegories, wearing a distinct facial hair. His eyes are covered — he is blind, and this feature is characteristic to all of the vices at one level or another. Despair is dead altogether and her eyes are closed or downcast, Anger directs her head straight up, with her eyes also closed. Idolatry appears completely blind, Inconstancy and Foolishness look away, and, finally, Envy’s vision is blocked by the symbolical snake. I think that Giotto had imagined the eyes and the gaze as the primary body part and language communicator of human beings; since humans here represent vices, the artist covers and obstructs the windows to the soul to convey the allegorical message of spiritual blindness. In a way, this set of allegories may be considered as a study in psychology, which slowly but surely pushes the religious context out.
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The appeal of Justice concentrates in the attributes and the ornamental additions, as if they try to steal all the charm from the sitting crowned figure. This process occurs on some level in other allegories as well, but in this one it reaches a notable scale — or a critical mass if you will. One reason for this shift seems to be that the attributes here consist of many miniature figures of living people, who interact and move, vying for the viewer’s attention. Since there is little variety in the facial expression, observers will naturally turn towards the fresh, previously unseen parts. The inclination towards seeking entertaining yet harmless and still relevant digressions may be a common factor, as looking at the fourteen figures may prove to be quite tiresome (as any museum frequenter will testify), but it seems particularly urgent in Faith, a rather dull looking sitter. In a way, the miniatures play the role of jewelry, attracting the eye to the otherwise insignificant owner.
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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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