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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Wearing a garment identical to that of Hope, Charity also possesses a similar face, which, however, is not an exact replica. Nuances seep into Giotto di Bondone ’s art and will eventually spread out into the tremendous diversification of high renaissance and following art trends. The woman humbly smiles and bends slightly backwards, producing a set of graceful and plastic movements. She balances easily standing on a few sacks of grain or flour; her posture, though firmly stable is somewhat dance-like — she seems like a buxom peasant, yet not without a characteristic elegance. The basket symmetrically counters the image of God the father in an additional symbolical correlation of fertility and abundance with divinity. Her gaze and thoughts are directed towards the deity, as far away as possible from the supplies she carries and treads upon — an indication of readiness to part with them, give them away for free, or for a spiritual retribution.
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I once had a hard time figuring out the meaning of the word “plasticity” when reading an essay about Donatello’s sculpture. I understood the encyclopedic meaning but couldn’t apply it purposefully to the image: it remained a sort of a mystery to me, and so has that entire crucial characteristic of the whole renaissance movement. But eventually Giotto kindly came to the rescue; just as some words light up with full meaning after you encounter them in a different book, I grasped “plasticity” when looking at Giotto’s virtues and vices painted on the walls of Capella degli Scrovegni, Padua. That they are essentially stone sculptures rendered in paint only emphasizes the link to Donatello’s plasticity, and ultimately my own understanding of the term. And it comes to full light in these minimalistic by artistic necessity figures — there is little movement, but all of it epitomizes early renaissance plasticity.
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To me, Jeremiah is the most human of all the prophets on the Sistine Chapel Ceiling. The prophet exhibits weakness, weariness and despair, his posture reveals diffidence and inner suffering. This is a potent psychological portrait, and the artist channels every surrounding element towards bringing out the mentioned traits, to make it such. I think that looking at this old man may be particularly gratifying, because every human being can sympathize with anguish, finding similar sentiments inside their souls. This figure epitomizes emotional pain, and demonstrates universal appeal as a consequence. Michelangelo chose the most basic device to establish the general mood: almost every loose object in this scene points down, as if symbolically echoing Jeremiah’s torment and “down” feelings; the man himself hangs his head, his gaze is downcast, his right shoulder is drooping. Furthermore, his beard points directly downwards, as is his under clothing and the fingers of his left hand. The prophet’s mirror companion replicates his position, with the lock imitating the beard.
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