Caravaggio’s Entombment (Pinacoteca Vaticana, Vatican City) presents a symbiosis between an emotionally strung theme and a monolithic, balanced composition. Suffering is elevated to an aesthetically pleasing – and hence tragic – conception that flows from a congregation of actors, a single block reminiscent of a bas-relief (Caravaggio was known for his propensity to emulate sculpture). Ultimately the psychological effect of the scene as a whole springs from the solid base of compositional logic.
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This painting (hanging in Uffizi Gallery, Florence; read the Wikipedia article of Caravaggio’s Sacrifice of Isaac) disturbs and stirs the viewer with the gestures of the actors — as if they themselves literally hold on to us, shaking us from apathy or calm. This psychological effect is not accidental: the depicted theme is one of the most intense, nerve wrecking scenes of the old testament; it was Abraham’s ultimate test of faith, when he almost sacrificed his only son. At the first glance it may be problematic to discern which hand is which, who holds who and what is going on. This is an inherently complex composition that makes no excuses for itself; it’s emotionally and visually demanding, as are most Caravaggio’s middle and late style pieces.
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This painting (hanging in Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, USA) follows The Fortune Teller in depicting a scene of sharp practice which very well might have been based in reality. This Wikipedia article on The Cardsharps mentions realism (the unglamorous theme, the ragged gloves, the dramatic tension) as the quality that made Caravaggio famous. The artist’s late works were also highly realistic — appallingly so to some contemporaries — but the realism evolved and overflowed into the artist’s methods. He would paint from live models directly on canvas (sometimes marking parts of it by incisions), neglecting the ever important part of preliminary drawing (Check also this article on The Cardsharps published by The Independent).
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Perhaps too much stress has been put into sexual interpretations of this early painting (exists in two versions, one hangs in National Gallery in London (Boy Bitten by a Lizard), the other in La Collezione di Roberto Longhi in Florence) by Caravaggio (Wikipedia Article on Boy Bitten by a Lizard, and Caravaggio Wikipedia Article). There is a broader context: the symbolical loss of innocence by way of experiencing sudden, unexpected pain. We witness a scene where the actor encounters the “painful” side of life, or world — and shrinks back, apparently taken by surprise. It is the pronounced element of surprise that allows to interpret the boy’s reaction as a first-time experience and the entire image as a dynamic juxtaposition of ignorance and knowledge.
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A serene composition unfolds before us (the piece was painted in two different variations: the one below hangs in Louvre, Paris, [visit the great Louvre official site too] , and the next one hangs in Musei Capitolini, Rome, and may be seen in the slideshow on the main page). It may seem as though Caravaggio (Britannica full article on Caravaggio) aimed to appease the audience, to make us feel safe with this serenity. Several features conspire to achieve that effect. First is the neat compositional symmetry: each model occupies roughly half of the canvas and mirrors accurately the gestures of its counterpart — the elbows, the head tilt, the angle of the eye level. Together, the two figures form a round arch, with the plume of the young man’s head-dress marking the pinnacle. Second is the palette: the warm golden-brown tones of the skin and of the background (mixed with soft light, and complemented by the interchange of whites, greens, reds and browns of the garments) underscore the symmetry to further soothe the audience.
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