Monday, 27 April 2015

Have you seen...the one with a dragon?

Vittore Carpaccio, Saint George Slaying the Dragon, 1502, La Scuola della Schiavoni, Venice


The interior is dark and cool.  I can hardly see the walls at first, let alone make out the pictures adorning them.  Then, a curtain is pulled back, flooding the interior with light and suddenly there he is, a dragon rearing on his hind legs but pierced through the head with a lance, blood pouring from mouth and skull.  It is an inventive dragon: bat-like wings of a bluey green with rusty orange spines and black tips.  Scales as well as feathery fur can be seen on its haunches and front legs, raised as if to pounce, or else in supplication.  The tail is snake-like, curling away and up the left of the picture.  Fearsome though the jagged teeth and claws are, there is a piteous look in the one eye we can see and the ears droop in an attitude of fear and surrender.  The horse, also rearing on its hind legs and forming a triangle with the beast it faces, is larger than the dragon, going against my imagined images of this famous scene, where a tiny Saint George battles a massive hulking beast.

St George himself, almost stands astride his steed in shiny black armour as he thrusts home the death blow, shattering his lance in the process.  The chivalrous knight, long wavy hair flying, wears a look of determined and focused calm on his profile face, reminiscent of Roman coins, while an equally calm princess looks on, clasping her hands as if in prayer. Scattered on the ground in gruesome detail and exemplary foreshortening, lie the dismembered bodies of previous sacrifices and their would-be saviours.  In the background an oriental town sits on the shores of a limpid blue sea.

Vittore Carpaccio's scene of 1502 tells the familiar tale of St George, a wandering Christian knight, Dalmatian by birth, who kills the dragon to save a princess from being sacrificed. When the princess is saved and returned to her people the whole town of Selene is converted to Christianity and baptised by St George.  The story comes from Jacobus Voragine's Golden Legend written in about 1260 in Latin and then translated and printed in Venice in 1475.  It was to be a treasure trove of material for painters, sculptors and patrons alike.  

It is unknown whether Carpaccio chose the story or whether his patrons the Schiavoni confraternity did.  The Schiavoni, originating from Dalmatia, did have an affinity with the Saint, whose cult had taken hold in Europe from the eighth century onwards.  

Images of the saint and visual narratives of his life can be seen in many different parts of the continent.  A wonderful sculpture by Bernt Notke, complete with dragon, dismembered bodies, princess and horse, has a knight bearing a distinct resemblance to Carpaccio's St George in his static, upright stance. The saint is wearing accurate, fifteenth century armour


Bernt Notke, St George, 1489, Stockholm Cathedral, Stockholm

and his horse has metal reins and leather stirrups. The spine of the dragon is made of real elk antler, the body of the horse from a real horse's hide and linen and bristles have been used for the horse's mane.  The marble relief by Donatello, below, made much earlier than both Notke's statue and Carpaccio's canvas, depicts a similar composition with rearing horse, smallish dragon and princess clasping her hands.


Donatello, St George and the Dragonc. 1416, Marble, 39 x 120 cm, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence

St George had been known in England from as early as the eight century and It was in 1222 that the Synod of Oxford declared 23rd April to kept as a holiday in his honour.  However, it was not until the end of the fourteenth century that George was adopted as Patron Saint of England (http://www.britannia.com/history/stgeorge.html).  Images of him proliferate here and Westminster Abbey even housed one of his legs for a while before the dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536 and the subsequent destruction of holy relics.  St George's statue survives though in the corner of Henry VII's tomb, modelled in bronze.  There are several depictions of the most well known episode from his life in our National Gallery, such as Paolo Uccello's depiction (below).  If, however, you can make the trip, I do recommend a visit to the Scuola to admire Carpaccio's canvas and take in the atmosphere of early sixteenth century Venice.  At the same time you will see Carpaccio's other canvases adorning the walls, including the next work I review here: The Vision of St Augustine, or, as I affectionately call it, "The one with a dog".


Paolo Uccello, c.1470, oil on canvas, 55.6 cm × 74.2 cm, The National Gallery, London


Alison Barker

Next time:  Have you seen...the one with a dog?

Sunday, 18 January 2015

Have you seen...the one without a dragon?



Paolo Veronese The Martyrdom of St George, c.1565, oil on canvas, 431.3 x 300.4cm

You may be forgiven for thinking that there are many paintings that do not contain a dragon, and you would be right.  You can probably think of several off the top of your head, not least the twelve paintings featured so far on this blog.  

However, the reason why this painting is so significant for not containing a dragon, is that it was originally supposed to.  Paolo Veronese, the artist who is responsible for this incredible work of art and who also painted the Feast at the House of Levi (see Art Review 21st February 2014), was commissioned to paint an altarpiece for the Church of San Giorgio in Braida, Verona.  There was already a painting in place over the high altar, probably Giovanni Francesco Caroto's St George and the Dragon (below). 



Caroto, St George and the Dragon, 1535

This painting was moved to another church, also with George as its patron saint, hence the need for a new altarpiece at Braida.  Caroto's work shows St George as a knight on horseback having just vanquished the dragon, his broken lance having pierced the beast's neck.  This iconography is quite typical for paintings of this subject.  We can compare those works by Paolo Uccello, Raphael and Giorgio Vasari, to name but a few.  

George himself was a knight from Cappadocia in modern Turkey, living between the third and fourth centuries AD.  There was a city in the area that was suffering under a terrible situation.  A dragon was demanding human sacrifices and people were chosen by lot.  One day, the King's own daughter was chosen and taken to the dragon's home by the lake.  In a miraculous turn of events, George arrived and subdued the dragon.  He bound it with the princess's girdle and led it into the city to show the people and to convert them to Christianity.  They become Christians and George becomes a hero [1].  This story is narrated by Jacobus Voragine in The Golden Legend, and George’s fame spread. In 494 AD under the approval of Pope Galasius, George was made a saint. By the seventh and eighth centuries he had become the Patron Saint of England and his feast day has been celebrated on 23rd April ever since.

Although he is famous for subduing and killing the dragon that been terrorising a city, Veronese does not choose to depict that most famous of moments.  The artist dispenses altogether with the dragon and the heroic knight on horseback and instead focuses on the moment before the saint’s martyrdom.  It is said that George refused to worship pagan idols and was beheaded in Nicomedia on the orders of the Emperor Diocletian in the fourth Century AD.  We see George kneeling, surrounded by people, his armour taken from him and his face raised to heaven.  The old man behind him tries to make him look at, and worship, the statue of Apollo at the far left of the picture, but the knight will not tear his eyes from his heavenly vision.  The Virgin Mary and Jesus look down on the scene below, whilst Faith, Hope and Charity join a Sacred Conversation with Saints Peter and Paul.  A winged cherub is about to crown George with the laurel wreath of victory, and although the executioner makes ready his sword, George has already left his earthly life, emotionally and spiritually, behind him.

This monumental masterpiece, standing at over four metres in height has been described as Veronese’s best work and “the most beautiful painting ever” [2].  Perhaps, after all, it didn’t need the dragon.


Alison Barker

Next time: Have you seen…the one with a dragon?



[1] Zuffi S (ed), Saints in Art, J Paul Getty Museum Publishers, LA (English Trans), 2003, p.144 
[2] Durrant N, The Times, March 8th 2014, p.5