Raffaello in Perugia
On the trail of a great Renaissance artist
I’m not one for extended tours that shuttle you through (or often past) Italy’s or Europe’s “greatest hits.” But I love a good day tour given by a local guide, and I especially love a niche tour that zeroes in on one bit of history, art, or architecture. I did one such tour a year or so ago, called “Da Torre in Torre” (From Tower to Tower), that walked us past the remnants of many of Perugia’s 75-ish medieval towers, then to the top of the lone survivor, Torre degli Sciri, for a panoramic view. And last week I took another one, thanks to the Associazione Guide Turistiche dell’Umbria and my neighborhood association. Available through August 19, “Sulle Tracce di Raffaello” (in the footsteps of Raphael) is an exploration of the time this prolific artist spent in Perugia.
With one exception, the art Raffaello created in Perugia (of which I mention only a few pieces) now lives in cities around the world—which at first thought seems terribly sad. But as our guide, Claudia Sanvico, pointed out, instead we can think of Perugia as an ambassador, sending bits of the city’s history out into the world for, perhaps, a wider audience to enjoy. I can appreciate the perspective, though Perugia herself is the poorer for it.
Anyway, what’s the big deal? Who was Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino? Most people, if they’ve heard of him at all, know him by the anglicized name Raphael. Born in Urbino in 1483, Raffaello first came to Perugia to apprentice with the city’s beloved artist son, Pietro Vannucci (aka Il Perugino). Raffaello was a prodigy, a master (meaning fully trained) at age 17. Whatever you want to call him, he was one of the three greatest High Renaissance painters, along with the much-older Leonardo da Vinci (30 years his senior) and the somewhat older (by 8 years) Michelangelo.
For a time after Raffaello’s death, his work, known for its serenity and grace, was overshadowed by that of the more flamboyant Michelangelo. (Raffaello did learn from him, even sneaking into the Sistine Chapel in Michelangelo’s absence, to study the frescoes in progress.) Later, though, in the 1700s and 1800s, Raffaello’s work regained widespread admiration and an enduring place at the pinnacle of Renaissance art.
There’s an elegance to Raffaello, visible in the man himself, in his self-portraits, and in his artistic style. Here’s how historian Giorgio Vasari, a great artist himself, described him (from The Lives of the Artists, Volume 1):
“Indeed, until Raphael most artists had in their temperament a touch of uncouthness and even madness that made them outlandish and eccentric; the dark shadows of vice were often more evident in their lives than the shining light of the virtues that can make men immortal. So nature had every reason to display in Raphael, in contrast, the finest qualities of mind accompanied by such grace, industry, looks, modesty, and excellence of character as would offset every defect, no matter how serious, and any vice, no matter how ugly. One can claim without fear of contradiction that artists as outstandingly gifted as Raphael are not simply men but, if it be allowed to say so, mortal gods[.]”
That’s some praise for a man whose tragic death at age 37 is attributed to an illness brought on by his (speaking euphemistically here) extremely active love life, which even Vasari admits:
“Raphael kept up his secret love affairs and pursued his pleasures with no sense of moderation. And then on one occasion he went to excess, and he returned home afterwards with a violent fever which the doctors diagnosed as having been caused by heat-stroke.”
Heat stroke. Hmm, brings all kinds of things to mind, given his penchant for excess. Tamer things like infection and bloodletting have also been suggested as causes of the artist’s untimely death. In any case, it’s maddening to think about all the art this lover-boy genius might have given us had he lived as long as Leonardo (who died at 67) or Michelangelo (at 88).
Okay, let’s get back to the tour. We began at the Rocca Paolina, once an enormous fortress, where we imagined Perugia as Raffaello would have seen it. He would certainly have known the Baglioni, the most powerful family in Perugia, whose homes were razed when the Rocca was built in 1540. In the Rocca we saw the remnants of the Baglioni houses and the streets that flanked them, which now end in soaring stone walls. We saw a copy of a painting by Benedetto Bonfigli (one of Perugino’s teachers) that shows the city with its many towers in the mid-1400s, before the Rocca was built and the Baglioni neighborhood destroyed. This was the city Raffaello saw when he, still a boy, arrived in the late 1400s.
With images of our young artist hero in 15th-century Perugia planted in our minds, we boarded a Perugia City Tour pulmino (little bus) to go up to the heart of the historic center. Along the way, our guide Claudia talked about some of the commissions Raffaello did during his time here, works that no longer call Perugia home.
One such painting is the Madonna dei Garofani (ca. 1506-1507), commissioned by, according to a document dated 1520, “Maddalena degli Oddi, Monaca [nun] di Perugia.” (The Oddi, rivals of the Baglioni, were another prominent Perugino family. Maddalena became a nun after she was widowed.) The painting reveals Leonardo’s influence on Raffaello; in particular, its composition likely derives from Leonardo’s Benois Madonna (ca. 1478-80). The carnations that a youthful Virgin Mary, pictured in a Renaissance palace, gives to the infant Jesus symbolize divine love. The painting is now in London’s National Gallery.
Another painting Raffaello did here in Perugia is La Madonna Conestabile (aka La Madonna del Libro), painted for the Conestabile della Staffa family in 1504, when Raffaello was a mere 20 years old. Originally painted on wood, the small round painting (barely 7 inches in diameter) was transferred onto canvas in 1881, at which point the art conservators discovered that Raffaello had first painted not a book to pique baby Jesus’ curiosity, but a pomegranate. The painting, acquired by the wife of Tsar Alexander II of Russia in 1871, is in the Hermitage Museum in Moscow.
Hopping off the bus, we walked over to the Church of San Severo, whose small external chapel houses Perugia’s only remaining work by Raffaello. Originally built in the 11th century on the site of a pagan temple dedicated to the god of the sun (from which the district, called Porta Sole, gets its name), the church was completely rebuilt at the end of the 15th century. Shortly thereafter, Raffaello was commissioned to paint the chapel’s frescoes. He completed the upper part of the arched wall, the Holy Trinity (God the Father, the dove symbolizing the Holy Spirit, and Jesus Christ) flanked by saints, before being called back to Rome to fresco entire rooms at the Vatican.
If you’ve ever visited the Vatican Museums, you’ve probably seen the enormous frescoes that fill the Raffaello Rooms, of which School of Athens is the most famous.
Raffaello’s stay in Rome turned out to be a long one, and for years the unfinished lower portion of the fresco awaited his return. Then, in 1520, came sad news—Raffaello had died. Perugino was asked to complete the fresco with a row of six standing saints, which he did in 1521. With the work of the Umbrian master painter and his former apprentice juxtaposed like this, it’s hard not to draw comparisons. Perugino’s colors are drab compared to Raffaello’s, his saints’ faces expressionless, his perspective flat instead of dynamic. But let’s be fair—Raffaello was in his prime, and Perugino, at age 70, was long past his peak. He died two years later, in 1523.
Leaving San Severo, we walked to the Porta Sole overlook with its view of the Rione di Porta Sant’Angelo. Raffaello once stood here, gazing out over the city and its distant hills, just like we were now. How do we know this? We have proof.
In the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, England, is a Raffaello sketch of St. Jerome (pen and brown ink over traces of black chalk, ca. 1504)—and that very recognizable view toward Porta Sant’Angelo.
Perugia has changed tremendously since Raffaello’s time, but even so—and even though the city has been shorn of its dozens of towers—I think he would recognize it now. He would certainly recognize the view from the Porta Sole belvedere. And now, after walking sulle tracce di Raffaello, I will never go to that vista point—as I do, frequently—without thinking of this brilliant young artist and how much he gave to Perugia and the world through his groundbreaking, transformative art. Whatever it was that led to his premature death, I hope it was one hell of a ride.
Book of the week:
The Lives of the Artists, Volume 1 by Giorgio Vasari
Poem of the week:
“Andrea del Sarto” by Robert Browning
And let’s end with Raffaello’s fresco Poetry, from the Stanza della Segnatura in the Vatican.
Comments? Questions? I’d love to hear from you!
His artwork and his life are fascinating. It makes me wonder what he might have been like if he had managed to dial it back and live at a slower and healthier pace. Or perhaps he was always destined to travel through life like a comet and flame out.
His artwork has always made me swoon and I love his connection to Perugia.