_Andrea del Castagno_ (Florentine: 1390-1457).
There is a rough vigour in this picture which agrees well
with what we know of the painter. His father was a labouring
man. Left an orphan in his boyhood, Andrea herded the cattle
of an uncle at the hamlet of Castagno (whence the painter's
name). He was first stimulated to study art by chancing to come
across an itinerant painter at work on a rustic tabernacle. He
began to draw upon the walls with charcoal or his knife, and
showed therein so much ability that he attracted the notice
of Benedetto de' Medici, who took the youth to Florence and
placed him under proper tuition. Such is Vasari's story. But
Benedetto's patronage did not save Andrea from a hard struggle
with adversity. At the age of forty he is found declaring that
he had neither bed, board, nor lodging in Florence, and was
so poor that in illness he had to take shelter in a public
hospital. These declarations were made, however, in a taxing
return. Subsequently Andrea received various commissions in the
palaces and churches of Florence, and from the Government. For
the latter he painted on the wall of the palace of the Podestà
the gibbeted bodies of those who were declared rebels on the
recall from banishment of Cosimo de' Medici. Most of Andrea's
works have perished; the few that remain in Florence display
"a rude and coarse energy and an independent and original
spirit, but are seldom attractive, either in form or colour"
(Kugler). He is said to have painted in oil, but no work by him
in that medium exists. Vasari's story in this connection, that
he assassinated Domenico Veneziano, is demonstrably false (see
under 766).
This picture is impressive in its solemn gloom. The impenitent thief
writhes in agony, the suffering Christ casts his last glance at his
mother, who, with St. John the beloved disciple, stands below in
speechless grief. "The most beautiful in colour of all early works"
(Ford Madox Brown in _Magazine of Art_, 1890, p. 134). Andrea's
treatment of the subject, as also Antonello's (1166), is remarkable
for simplicity and realism. In most representations of the Crucifixion
the central tragedy is partially lost in the large groups of
bystanders (_e.g._ 718, 1048, 1088), and various symbolical figures
are introduced--as, for instance, flying angels around the cross. Even
in Giotto's fresco at Padua this feature is introduced. Indeed "in all
the pictures of the Crucifixion by the great masters, with the single
exception perhaps of that by Tintoret in the church of San Cassiano
at Venice, there is a tendency to treat the painting as a symmetrical
image, or collective symbol of sacred mysteries, rather than as a
dramatic representation" (Ruskin's _Giotto_, p. 149). For an example of
a symbolic representation, in contrast to the severe simplicity of the
picture before us, see No. 1478.