Room
2
If the superbly calibrated Saint Jerome marks
the artist’s maturity, the fundamental
components of Antonello’s artistic formation
can be seen in the works of the Neapolitan
painter Colantonio. The young Messina artist
trained in his workshop during the period in
which Naples was one of the artistic capitals
of the Mediterranean, during the reigns of
Renato of Anjou and Alfonso of Aragon.
The two small panels depicting scenes from
the life of Saint Vincenzo Ferrer, part of an
elaborate polyptych now in the Museum of
Capodimonte, show Colantonio’s ability to
combine the beauty of Flemish still lifes and
landscape description with a well-established
Italian structural tradition. This was a lesson
that Antonello was to develop with masterly
skill in works such as the Sibiu Crucifixion,
enriched with a landscape that has always
been recognized as a view with a strong
symbolic significance. Indeed, one can
distinguish the natural and monumental
features of the city and port of Messina: to the
right the Basilian Monastery of San Salvatore
and further back the Fort of Matagrifone or
Rocca Guelfonia. However, the Aeolian islands
are visible in the centre of the straits, though
they cannot actually be seen from Messina in
that position.
The wall devoted to the series of Madonnas
may lead to solving some of the problems
associated with them that have been debated
for years, as they show how, for reasons of
style and composition, paintings such as the
Como Virgin Advocate – a Madonna
interceding for special favours to be granted –
or the Venice Virgin Reading, cannot be by
Antonello da Messina, but should probably be
considered important examples of the Spanish
painting that Antonello became familiar with
and admired in Naples. The so-called Salting
Madonna from London, on the other hand,
with its highly detailed garments and rich
accessories, the silky sheen of the white lead
touches and the absolute essentiality of the
forms – evident in the oval face of the
Madonna – reveals his consummate expertise.
This expertise and skill, together with a rare
ability to capture the subject’s inner self, was
to make Antonello one of the greatest
portraitists of all time This can already be
seen in the Portrait of a Man from Pavia in
which the sitter, with his head sharply tilted
and a slightly ironic expression, almost seems
to be spying on the viewer. Antonello’s
psychological insight enables him to surpass
the Portrait of a Man by Jan van Eyck, such a
masterly interpreter of the outer surface of
things.
