It is a characteristic--(as far as I know, quite a universal one)--of
the greatest masters, that they never expect you to look at them; seem
always rather surprised if you want to; and not overpleased. Tell them
you are going to hang their picture at the upper end of the table at
the next great City dinner, and that Mr. So and So will make a speech
about it; you produce no impression upon them whatever, or an
unfavourable one. The chances are ten to one they send you the most
rubbishy thing they can find in their lumber-room. But send for one of
them in a hurry, and tell him the rats have gnawed a nasty hole behind
the parlor door, and you want it plastered and painted over;--and he
does you a masterpiece which the world will peep behind your door to
look at for ever.
I have no time to tell you why this is so; nor do I know why,
altogether; but so it is.
Giotto, then, is sent for, to paint this high chapel: I am not sure if
he chose his own subjects from the life of St. Francis: I think so,--but
of course can't reason on the guess securely. At all events, he would have
much of his own way in the matter.
Now you must observe that painting a Gothic chapel rightly is just the
same thing as painting a Greek vase rightly. The chapel is merely the
vase turned upside-down, and outside-in. The principles of decoration
are exactly the same. Your decoration is to be proportioned to the size
of your vase; to be together delightful when you look at the cup, or
chapel, as a whole; to be various and entertaining when you turn the
cup round; (you turn _yourself_ round in the chapel;) and to bend
its heads and necks of figures about, as it best can, over the hollows,
and ins and outs, so that anyhow, whether too long or too short-possible
or impossible--they may be living, and full of grace.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66