It was during Lent when Freud met the Antichrist in Orvieto.
Wait, a minute.
Freud’s Trip to Orvieto occurred in September of 1897. Half a year away before Lent—or if you prefer, half a year after Lent. Mere months after the death of his father, he was still in the early days of his own self-analysis. In Orvieto, he would come face to face with Signorelli’s Orvieto Frescoes and thereby pronounce them to be “The finest paintings I have ever seen.”
It was an odd choice, don’t you think?
Started in 1447 by Fra Angelico and completely by Signorelli around 1500, the frescoes depict the Last Judgement and the End of the World in a tangle of writhing, pulsing, electrical bodies. This was how Fra Angelico and Luca Signorelli Saw the End of the World. Unforgettable paintings.
During the past several months of lockdown, I have found myself thinking of the End of Days frescoes constantly, especially the painting depicting the communal harmony of heaven–where people worked together. It wasn’t just something seen, but heard–the paintings become –again– Dante’s journey from cacophony to polyphony. People have compared Old Master paintings to particular pieces of music–from cacophony to polyphony. For example, legendary art historian Bernard Berenson declared the angels of Titian’s Assumption of the Virgin to be “Embodied joys, acting on our nerves like the rapturous outburst of the orchestra at the end of “Parsifal.” And I would argue that Piero’s True Cross Frescoes are like Beethoven’s Cavatina. In this way, Nicolas Fox Weber, in his book Freud’s Trip to Orvieto compares the Signorelli frescoes to a symphony by Tchaikovsky at the apogee of force, every instrument of the orchestra performing simultaneously.
Weber also says that, the impact of standing in front of the paintings is like that of three shots of espresso, a bar of intense dark chocolate, and a double dose or Ritalin—all consumed simultaneously.
Yep.
Still it was a strange choice for Freud.
Most people would probably agree with me that Signorelli’s teacher Piero della Francesca (my own favorite painter) was the vastly better artist. Though Signorelli started off as an apprentice in Piero’s studio in Arezzo, his work lacks the sublime transcendent quality of that of his teacher’s. It is also missing the “more-real-than-real” vibrancy of Mantegna. And even fans of the robust style usually go for Michelangelo or Tintoretto. And speaking of Michelangelo, you won’t be too surprised to hear that when Michelangelo stopped at Orvieto to see Signorelli’s frescoes, he intended to stay for a day and instead stayed several weeks. Giorgio Vasari, the Florentine father of art history, counted this as a decisive influence, “as anyone can see,” in Vasari’s words, on Michelangelo’s “Last Judgment” in the Sistine Chapel. So it wasn’t just Freud, Nicolas Weber and myself who became a bit obsessed.
But Freud would not hear the Confessions of the Antichrist. That happened to the painter Luca Signorelli, when he was busy at work Picturing the Apocalypse on the walls of the San Brizio Chapel in Orvieto at the turn of the century in 1499.
Perhaps even more than we do now, the Italians of 1500 had good reason to fear the end was coming, with French invasions, sightings of ominous blood red clouds and ultimately a massive outbreak of the plague in the final days of the 13th century. It is not hard to imagine people would feel apocalyptic and wonder, “Is this it?”
So how did the
With so much at stake, one had to get things right. After all, this could mean an eternity in heaven or in hell, right?
And so the Great Master, Luca Signorelli painted his pictures.