La Tempesta
Art nowadays may be too good to subject the artists' perspective to something as crass and filthy as lucre. In the Middle Ages however and especially those centuries ennobled in the academic perspective by the term, 'Renaissance,' painting was as much a business as, say, breeding hogs, or paying off lovers. In terms of its specific reference, this painting was commissioned by a Venetian noble named Gabriele Vendramin, somewhere between 1506 and 1508, the High Renaissance. When it was completed and paid for, it entered into his estate and stayed there for long after his passing.
To my mind, much of the piece's famed ambiguity could be explained by the context in which it hung in the Vendramin household. As it was not a personal representation, or a historical depiction, or any other straightforward description of its subject, it was indeed allegorical. By the way, such ambiguous storytelling through art was much more common than we may think today. Consider for instance, that it may have hung in a summer home, awaiting lengthy, lethargic days and happy, playful nights.
Then the painting can clearly be seen as representing the intended spirit of the place. A place that was sheltered from the traumas of nature and man, nurturing and calm. The soldier is set against both the lightning and thunder beyond and the adjacent city, both contemplating and guarding both the poor gypsy woman and her suckling child.
Yet as well, those same forces and powers beyond can potentially be harnessed in this place, this indolent little paradise where dreams can flourish unimpeded and all manners and forms of the imagination can take root. Especially for children, those themselves still nursing, up to those ready for an early marriage. Such lightning bolts of creativity and genius we long for as children, such force and readiness in the soldier to meet the challenges of the day, do we hope to attain even as still children.
So much of the detailing as well, calls to mind the works of Arthur Rackham, Maurice Sendak and other fantastical children's artists of the past. The meandering subtle blues and stark brightness of the burning reds and yellows in the sky. The dreamy cityscape just above the drifting waters of the river. The lush but ordered state of the trees and foliage. Finally, the soldier, smart in his uniform, lance jauntily by his side, as the descending darkness will allow him to be, positioned before the ruins of an ancient estate, probably guarded in its glory by men much like him, far in the past.
He is juxtaposed beside the lovely bather suckling an infant. The implied relationship between the two of them is probably the biggest real question mark of the whole piece: lovers? guard? chance encounter? We will never know and even those of us who dismiss potential drama, have to admit to the sheer possibility.
As for the woman herself, she is usually described as a gypsy, but at first glance, this description would seen unlikely. By her pale skin, her self-assured manner and her coiffure, she would have more likely been a straight depiction of a woman in the Vendramin household. At any rate, she is no low born woman, who would have been an unlikely subject in those days, at any rate. Not that any of that does or should matter to the modern eye, or real eyes for that matter.
Whatever the full truth of what is probably this tragically short-lived artist's best known work, it succeeds as a dreamscape. Which is probably why it has attracted the devotion of artists, especially literary ones, throughout the ages. It may not be entirely an accidental work, but it is certainly a wonderful example of the painter's magic.
