Look at that painting. What are your first impressions? Most importantly, what is the man on your right doing? If you said that the man on the right is moving his right arm up and out in a gesture of surprise then you see what I do. If you say that the man has moved his right arm up and out in a gesture of surprise, then we disagree. Notice that man's right hand; do you see how that hand is bigger than his left, which is coming out of the canvas in your direction? Why?
That is one of our mysteries.
Proportionally, the man's left hand, which is nearly poking you in the nose, should be painted much larger than the man's right hand, which is a full double-arm’s-and-a-chest’s-length away. But Caravaggio painted that ratio all wrong. Why? I believe he did it to suggest motion. Not completed motion. Not a still life of motion, but a rolling cinema of movement.
That Enormous Right Hand
Here. I’ve used my computer’s snipping tool to isolate only the hands and then blown up the picture by 400 percent. As you can see the hands are about the same size, although the left hand shows you the complete meat of the palm. That’s the case even though that left hand, as painted by Caravaggio, is directly in your face, while the other is a wing-span’s-width away.
Do me a favor. Place one of your hands directly in front of your face and put the other an arm’s-length away. Now look at your hands. The hand that is right in front of your face takes up quite a bit more of the “canvas” of your vision than the one at arm’s length, does it not?
Another famous picture might help.
In looking at this particular conundrum of perspective and ratio, let’s consider the following photograph:
That is a photograph of Muhammad Ali. His mighty left jab is in your face, almost exactly one-arm’s length away from that dangerous right hook. You can see the difference in the size of the hands. Caravaggio prided himself on painting from nature, a true realist. His models were picked up off the streets, costumed up, sat down and were painted just as they looked, warts, scars, dirty fingernails and all.
He boasted about it.
That’s why it’s strange to see a hand so completely out of perspective from this artist. Moreover, I have combed through quite a lot of critique about the painting, which is called Supper at Emmaus, and I can find little mention of that right hand. But, before we delve too deeply into the mystery, let’s cover some important background.
A Little Background
Michelangelo Merisi da Carvaggio was born in Italy in 1571, painted the picture you see above in approximately 1601, and died shortly afterwords having compiled a tremendous catalog of work that ushered in the Baroque style, which emphasized realism and drama and dramatic lighting.
The painting, Supper at Emmaus, was created in Rome during the Counter-Reformation. Catholicism was, at the time, in a struggle with Protestantism, and from the Pope on down, they sought to keep the people excited about their brand of religion with Art, but the Art had to be decorous, a rule that Caravaggio repeatedly broke.
Caravaggio challenged boundaries.
The subject of the painting is a passage from the Gospel of Luke about two apostles stopping for supper at an inn after the crucifixion of Christ. They are met on the road by a stranger who breaks bread with them. During the meal, the stranger reveals himself as the risen Christ to the surprise of his dinner companions. That’s the moment you witness in the painting.
Now, Back to Our Mystery
My sister, an artist and skilled painter, disagrees with me. Or, to be more accurate, she posits other potential explanations. She believes that it is plausible that Caravaggio just made a mistake in proportion, and her clever argument goes further: Sometimes artists make mistakes and simply decide to move on to their next project. Artists during Caravaggio’s time had to move quickly from commission to commission. They had contractual deadlines. Even a master like Caravaggio could not attain perfection in all of his paintings.
That’s her argument, and there is evidence to support it.
One of his masterpieces, Matthew Killed, also called The Martyrdom of St. Matthew, was completely repainted three times! Eventually, though, even Caravaggio had to move on and accept the imperfect. If you didn't like the final product, sometimes you still had to start your next piece. Supper at Emmaus came after The Martyrdom of St. Matthew, and it was The Martyrdom that first made Caravaggio a star, so he was swamped with commissions at the time he painted that masterpiece above. He had to paint quickly.
Also, it is true that some critics have complained about the angel with astigmatism in another Caravaggio painting (an angel whose eyes were not aligned), and there's the painting in which table legs appear to be missing, although it looks like a functioning table or bar to me—it even leans in the direction of the missing legs. So, there have been somewhat similar complaints about Caravaggio.
It is possible that Caravaggio painted Jesus first, then that enormous hand, and he did not calculate, exactly, how much room he had to stretch the man's arms out. But I see that as unlikely. Not impossibly unlikely, but very possibly unlikely.
A Theory of Motion
I believe that Supper at Emmaus is a study of motion. You see motion caught in pause, impending motion, potential motion and the holy grail of actual motion. The detail on the right shows the apostle who was seated at the table to the right of Jesus. You also see the hand of Jesus that represents, at least in my mind, Caravaggio’s depiction of motion paused.
The hand of Jesus is usually not held at that angle, so it was moved there. There is no indication if it will stay there for long or be withdrawn. It is motion caught in pause.
The detail to the right also depicts impending motion. The apostle is about to rise from his chair and probably knock into the table in his surprise. It could be that he’ll stay seated and just lean further in. In either case, he is going somewhere and somewhere fast. And when he does, he’s likely to bang into the table.
The motion of banging into the table will set into play the potential motion that is depicted in the detail to the left. As you can see, Caravaggio had a wonderful sense of humor. He showed “potential motion” coming from a “still life.” The basket of fruit is hanging precipitously over the edge of the table. One knock on the table by the apostle on the left, and it will fall over onto the floor.
The Artist has presented a scene in a painting that is still unfolding in terms of motion. There is motion caught in place, impending motion and potential motion. You can see why others have called Caravaggio the first “cinematic” painter. It is only natural that he would include actual motion in his study.
Another clue for me is that “the hand” is not only huge but a little blurry, especially when you first see the painting. The indistinctness suggests motion. (You can argue that this is just Caravaggio’s experimentation with chiaroscuro, and that is a good, credible argument.).
However, as you can see in the detail above, Caravaggio was into realism. He may have been the best ever at realistic painting. Nothing was blurry or indistinct on a Caravaggio canvas. You can’t really tell in the detail of the still life, but, in the original hanging in London’s National Gallery, you can see each dimple on the cooked foul from which feathers were plucked. The wormholes in the fruit, and the diseases apparent in the leaves, were done so well that knowledgeable professionals have described, using their scientific names, which worms or other pests or diseases caused those marks.
In other words, he was good at realism, at painting what he saw.
Caravaggio Did Take Time to Alter the Painting … But Not the Hand
The National Gallery looked at the painting with X-rays and other devices and found that Caravaggio had made an alteration to the painting, and that alteration dealt with the apostle on the right. But what Caravaggio did was to tighten up the man’s britches and change their color. Caravaggio did not re-touch the same man’s massive hand. He was satisfied with that hand. Did the artist fail to notice that his model had Gigantism of one appendage? Or, that his model had been bitten by a poisonous spider on the right hand the morning of the first sitting? I don’t think so.
I am acquainted with foreshortening in paintings. Caravaggio appears to use it for the fingers of the left hand that are moving into our space. I am not acquainted with a painterly technique involving aftenlargening or rearembiggening.
Actual Movement in Paintings by Caravaggio
Caravaggio’s fascination with depicting movement can be seen in other works, including his paintings of Medusa and Judith Beheading Holofernes. In both instances, the movement is blood draining from a severed head. This is motion that is currently happening, but is caught in pause. A snapshot. A survey of Ancient Greek and Roman artwork depicting Medusa shows no artist willing to depict this gory detail. Caravaggio was audacious enough to dare.
Another Way to Look at It
The modern way to picture what Caravaggio did is to imagine a film of a hand in motion. When you run it at regular speed, the hand is a little blurry, but if you were to stop the film and then cut out a frame and then super-impose it over the next frame and then the next, what you would have would look like a bigger, thicker, slightly blurry hand.
What you have would be the right hand of the apostle in the Supper at Emmaus. Is it a coincidence that that hand is supposed to be in motion (or at least was very recently in motion)?
Mostly, for me, the evidence is in my first impression of the painting, while my eyes were focusing on the action around the table. When I first viewed Supper at Emmaus, I immediately took notice because that gentleman to the right’s hand is moving! That’s why, when you entered the diary, I wanted you to view it the way that I did, with your eyes just coming into focus.
A good rule is to always look for what seems out of place. One last look at the “out of place” hand:
What the Critics Say
Besides the hand being “out of place,” there’s the fact that I have yet to find this remarkable achievement documented by art critics and scholars. They mention the drama in the painting, Jesus’ lack of a beard (a minor Counter-Reformation no-no), the realism, the out-of-season grapes and figs, the emotion, the worm-eaten produce (Jesus should not have diseased fruit at hand), the cinematic quality, and especially the fruit basket hanging dangerously over the edge of the table.
At least at Caravaggio.org they mention the huge right hand, but, in my opinion, they misconstrue what is happening in the painting and consider it a fault:
“[O]ne is aware of Caravaggio’s dependence on the posing of models and of the way in which they are not altogether successfully integrated into the action — note for example, the Apostle on the right, whose over-large right hand adds to the feeling of an inadequate assimilation of individually observed details.”
They go on to note that the painting was heralded for its “illusionistic” qualities, then they claim that the master’s greatest illusion was not an illusion at all, but a mistake!
There is no mention of the hand at all in Peter Robb’s 570-page treatment of the life of Caravaggio—which necessarily includes exquisite detail about each of the master’s paintings—as well as the London National Gallery’s own interpretation of the painting, and numerous other sources on youtube and far-flung over the internet. I’ve yet to see credit given to Caravaggio for this achievement in motion.
And that’s a mystery to me.
Sunday, Jan 1, 2017 · 11:22:41 AM +00:00 · Tortmaster
I have found some evidence regarding the movement in that mysterious right hand. In his book, Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane, Andrew Graham-Dixon notes the following: “His right hand, half lost in darkness, seems blurred by movement. His other hand, so close to the picture plane as to seem almost touchable, is sharply in focus.” at p. 222. This goes to my theory about actual motion. The author also provides some authority for my theory of impending motion. About the disciple to Jesus’ right, Graham-Dixon says that he is preparing “to lever himself upright.”